He flushed and took his glasses off with an abrupt gesture. “I know it’s wrong. But any fool can see he doesn’t deserve you. He’s making you miserable.”

She wanted to defend Nev, but she was still too shocked by Edward’s shocking proposal. It was so very unlike him. “But Edward, I would be ruined. Think of the scandal! Think of what Mr. Meath would say!”

“I have thought of it,” he said grimly. “I have been thinking of it ever since I walked into this house and saw you crying. But I would face it for you, Penelope. I love you. I always have. You shall always have a place to go as long as I am breathing.”

Was it possible that all the things she had never felt for Edward, he felt for her? Or did he love her like a sister? It didn’t matter; he had just offered to sacrifice everything he believed and everything he wanted for her. He was her oldest friend and-she found herself crying again.

His hands tightened on hers. “Penny! Give me the word: we’ll go now, this moment-”

She yanked her hands away just as Nev walked into the room. She saw his stunned expression, saw the blazoning of guilt on Edward’s face, and began to laugh through her tears. “Oh, Nev. What a Gothic novel our life has become!”

He just stared at her. So did Edward. She was becoming a madwoman. Perhaps Nev would lock her in the attic and hire Agnes Cusher as her keeper.

“Penelope,” Nev said. “May I speak to you a moment?”

“Of course.” She wondered what she would tell him. Would she tell him what Edward had said? “Edward, if you’ll excuse us a moment.” She followed him into the steward’s sitting room.

“Amy’s woken up,” he said. “They think-they think she might be all right.”

A mingled pang of relief and fear smote her. She did not know what to say. This, then, was the source of his dazed look. Like everything else, it had nothing to do with her.

“She’s asked for me. I-I have to go. But-”

“Of course you must go,” she said, numbly. She wished he would go, and leave her in peace.

But he didn’t. He stood there, his cinnamon hair falling into his downcast eyes, his hands knotting together. “Penelope-I know I’ve no right to ask, especially tonight. But I can’t go without you. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“What exactly is proper about taking your wife to visit your mistress?” Penelope snapped.

Nev looked stricken. And he was right, of course. She could not understand why she hadn’t seen it at once. He could not visit Miss Wray alone without scandal.

Miss Wray had been Nev’s constant companion for a year and she had almost died.

Penelope passed a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long evening. Of course you must go. Let me get my cloak and my boots.”

“Thank you, Penelope.” The gratitude in his voice brought fresh tears to her eyes. “I-thank you.”

Amy was awake. Amy would very likely live.

Nev knew he should be overjoyed. He should not be replaying in his mind, over and over, the moment he had walked into the steward’s room and seen Penelope crying, seen that bastard Macaulay leaning toward her and holding her perfect hands in his. Of course they’d been in the damn steward’s room: the room that inevitably made him feel like a dullard, the one room in his own house where he did not belong and never would.

Edward belonged there; anyone could see that. What if Edward belonged with Penelope? She let him see her cry. She had never let Nev see that, not willingly.

And now he had driven a deeper wedge between himself and his wife by asking her to go with him to see Amy. It was hardly a request calculated to endear to her either him or Loweston. But Amy had asked for him. She would be frightened and alone, and he could not fail this responsibility too.

He did not know what to say, so he said nothing, only watched his wife’s face and tried to trace the tear tracks in the moonlight. He couldn’t.

Amy was thin and pale and dirty, and her eyes were full of unhappiness. She had always seemed so happy before.

But she smiled a little when she saw him. “Nev.” It was her, her voice-raspy and weak, yes, but not that strange restless mumble it had been this past week. Something eased inside Nev.

He smiled back. “Amy. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“Why am I here? Did you-?”

He shook his head, ashamed. “Your mother asked Mrs. Brown to help her remove you to the country, and Mrs. Brown asked Penelope to take you in. Neither of us had any idea it was you until you arrived. You gave me the fright of my life, Amy-we all thought you were done for.”

“Did I make a lot of trouble for you with your wife?” Amy asked in a small voice.

“Not really.” Nev was fairly certain it was a lie. “Penelope’s been very good about the whole thing.”

Amy shrugged a little. He could see the bones in her shoulders. “Doesn’t love you.”

“That’s not fair.” Nev knew he shouldn’t upset Amy when she was still so weak, but he found he was quite incapable of letting such an insult to Penelope pass. That is-of course she didn’t love him. But that wasn’t why she had been so kind about Amy-was it? “She’s been good about it because she’s a kind, principled girl. It would be a dreadful scandal for her if it got about you were here, and she hasn’t breathed a word of reproach to me, only sent you chickens and fuel. She agreed to escort me here tonight, even though she was visiting with an old friend. She’s better than I deserve.”

Amy’s lips twisted. “You’re very happy, then?”

That gave him pause. “I don’t know. I hope-I hope I will be.”

Her gaze sharpened, but she said, “That’s good, Nev, I’m glad.”

“Oh, Amy. I’m so sorry. You should have told me what was wrong, that night at the theater. You should have known I would help you.”

Tears glittered in her eyes. “Should I have?”

He took her hand. “I’ll always help you, Amy.” Finally he said what had to be said. “It was mine, the baby, wasn’t it.”

“Who else’s should it be?” She turned her face to the wall, a very un-Amy-like tremor in her voice, and Nev felt worse than ever. “Are you very angry with me?”

How could he be angry? “No. What do you want to do now?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Nev. Gain back some of this weight, first of all. I just don’t know, I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Will you come and see me tomorrow?”

He felt a flash of irritation and resentment at the request-Penelope would be hurt and angry again, and he had so much to do already-and then guilt at his own selfishness. “If I can. Of course.”

“I’d like that. Stay with me till I’m sleeping, won’t you?”

He nodded.

When she was asleep, he went out into the other room. Penelope sat at the table in earnest conversation with Mrs. Bailey. She looked up at Nev, her face grave. “I think perhaps we ought to find another place for Miss Raeburn.”

“Certainly, if it’s too much trouble for Mrs. Bailey,” Nev said, puzzled.

Mrs. Bailey gave him a pleading look. “That ain’t it, your lordship. Everyone hates us now on account of Jack peaching. And Sir Jasper’s been to visit her, and that doesn’t help none. People have been-a rock came through the window in there and almost hit Miss Raeburn on the head, this morning.”

Nev rocked back on his heels. “Oh. Well, then. Certainly. And-I’ll find someone to guard the house. The children ought to be safe.”

Penelope was unsurprised when she woke up the next morning with her stomach in knots. She barely made it to the basin in her dressing room before casting up her accounts. Thank God Nev hadn’t slept in her bed last night.

Her stomach rolled again. He hadn’t touched her, not after talking to Miss Wray. It was too much, all of it-the poachers and Edward and Miss Wray. She wasn’t strong enough. She had never been strong enough, not at school and not now. She was a weak, silly, nervous girl and she felt like crying.

She wiped her mouth and looked at the Hogarth engravings. Edward’s anger didn’t trouble her anymore, and yet the sharpest sting of the engravings remained: the unequal marriage that ended in disaster. Had Hogarth and Edward and Lady Bedlow been right after all?