Penelope spent the better part of the afternoon trying not to think about Lord Ravenport, but failed miserably. It was particularly irritating because she had managed to forget him for nearly ten whole minutes.
Ten.
Francesca placed the rose he had given her into a vase in the drawing room, reminding her yet again of the infuriating man. Penelope stared at the flower from across the room. Naturally, it was a beautiful rose, but even the flower had apparently decided to be irritating.
Lady Margaret walked into the drawing room, collecting the empty teacups from the table one by one. As she passed Penelope, her eyes briefly followed Penelope's gaze toward the flower resting in the vase.
The older woman gave her a knowing look.
Penelope caught it immediately.
Her eyes darted away, suddenly far too interested in the folds of her gown, as though she had not been caught staring at the flower at all.
She reached for her teacup, only to discover that it had gone cold.
Wonderful.
