Knowing that she burned for him while he thought her a very nice girl was bad enough. But if he knew it and pitied her and tried to be kind-and if he knew, moreover, that she had hoped-

She had to compromise. She would stay and see him every day and never tell him how she felt.

But she knew that she couldn’t do that either. She couldn’t compromise on this. Always before she had been in control of herself, the one thing she could have mastery over, and now she was come to the end of that control.

Nausea washed over her again in dizzying waves. She needed time. Time to think, time to come to terms with herself. Time to hide, she told herself scornfully. And, What of it? she snapped right back. Her head felt like it was inside out; she just needed a little time-

Nev opened the door between their rooms. She turned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She had never felt more unglamorous. He looked fresh and rumpled and happy and handsome beyond bearing, and she could not speak.

“Have a head, do you? You didn’t drink much, it shouldn’t be too bad. After you’ve drunk some tea and had breakfast, you’ll feel right as rain.”

The thought of breakfast made her gorge rise; he must have seen it, because he came forward and brushed her hair back from her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

“I know it sounds all wrong,” he said, and she thought how very dear his voice was, how it was the first thing she had loved, without knowing it, “but bacon and eggs are just the thing when you feel rotten the morning after drinking.”

Breakfast with Nev. She remembered him licking honey off her fingers, and tears stung her eyes. She felt so sick, and she just wanted to lie down and have Nev read to her. Sing to her, maybe.

“What’s wrong, sweet?”

If she went down to breakfast with him she would stay. “I’m going home.” As soon as she blurted it out, she was choked with longing. Her mother might not understand, but she would hold her, she would stroke her hair, she would love her. And Penelope could lie in her familiar bed and eat familiar English food and feel safe.

There was a moment’s pause; then Nev said, as though he must have misheard her, “What?”

“I need some time to think. We both do-Nev, you know things have been awful. And I’m the one who got all your people arrested, it’ll be easier without me. I’ll go stay with my parents for a while. I can’t think here, Nev, everyone hates me-” Oh, God, she sounded like a child. She sounded pathetic and she wanted to slap herself. But it was the truth.

“I don’t hate you!”

She turned her face away.

“Surely this isn’t necessary. Tell me what’s wrong. Surely we can compromise-”

She flinched. “No,” she said. “No. I’ve been compromising all my life.”

“I just-I don’t understand. Last night-” He didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence.

Last night I made it plain to the entire neighborhood that I worship you passionately? Is that what you were going to say? she wanted to shout, humiliated. Instead she said, “I’m very sorry for my behavior last night. I know I must have embarrassed you sorely.”

“Penelope, what is going on? What happened? Are you really serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” she said angrily. “Why is it so hard to believe?” She knew the reason was her own foolish behavior. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t even look at him, not when his disbelief and hurt were plain in his voice. Take it back, a voice whispered. Apologize. You’re being selfish and foolish and all kinds of irrational. But she wanted to be selfish, damn it. She wanted to do what was right for her, just this once. “I can’t stay, Nev. I need to think. I’ll just go home, for a while, and then we’ll see. We’ll talk. Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you keep the money, I promise-”

“Hang the money! This is your home!”

She stared. He stalked toward her, looking as if he would grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Backing hastily away, she trod on a wilted chrysanthemum. The smell made her gag.

“Just tell me one thing. Last night, if I had let you tell me how you felt, is this what you would have said?”

God, his eyes were blue.

“Are you telling me that-that was a goddamned goodbye present?”

She was against the wall now, trapped. She couldn’t let me believe that, but-

The door opened and a white-faced Lady Bedlow flew in. “Louisa’s eloped!” She took in the scene. “Penelope, dear, what on earth are you wearing?”

And so, for the second time in twelve hours, Nev found himself making the carriage ride to Greygloss. But this time, Louisa wasn’t with them. How had everything gone so terribly wrong? It was worse, even, than those two weeks after his father had died, before he had proposed to Penelope. Then there had been hours of books and faulty arithmetic and a faint, persistent grief; now there was a jagged hole inside him. He had thought he had fixed everything. He had thought that with Penelope by his side, everything might come out all right in the end. Just last night, it had seemed as if, maybe, everything was all right.

But he had fixed nothing at all. Instead, he had failed in every way imaginable. His sister was gone. His best friend was gone. His wife was leaving.

Penelope was leaving. God.

What was he fighting for? Who was he fighting for? What was to be his reward when he had pulled Loweston out of the hole it was in? He might as well give up. He might as well go bankrupt tomorrow.

He might as well get drunk and find someone to blow his brains out.

The thought snapped him out of his stupor of self-pity. What would Penelope say if she knew how morbidly he was thinking?

He clung to the last hope he had. He would bring Louisa back. Percy was a faster driver than either of them, but if Nev and Thirkell spelled each other they could overtake him. And when Louisa was safe home, he would talk to Penelope. She was a sensible girl; she would see reason. She had to, because Nev could not imagine how he would live if she did not.

She said she might come back. She said she just needed a little time to think. But what was there for her to come back for? Everyone hates me here, she had said. And the only answer Nev could give her was that he didn’t. If she didn’t want him, then there was nothing for her at Loweston.

He had thought she did. Last night she had been so warm and sweet and she’d wanted him-hadn’t she? She didn’t seem to want him now.

He looked at his wife, leaning back against the seats with her eyes closed and her mouth set in lines of nausea and pain. She looked so pale and tired and unhappy. I’ve compromised all my life, she had said. All he had ever wanted from her-besides her money, he reminded himself bitterly-was for her to be herself. To do and say what she wanted, what she needed. Now she was, and if that meant leaving him, could he really ask her to stay?

They pulled up at Greygloss. Nev put his thoughts aside and ran up the steps. He banged on the door, but it was several minutes before the butler opened it. “I’m sorry to intrude so early, but I have urgent business with Lord Thirkell,” Nev said, grabbing Penelope’s hand and pushing past the startled butler. “If I might just take my family to the breakfast room first-”

“Nev,” Penelope said. “Please-”

He dragged her into the breakfast room and flung her down in a chair. He poured tea and filled a plate with eggs and bacon and toast and set them in front of her. “Eat. It will make you feel better. I’ll be back soon.” He turned back to the butler. “Take me to Lord Thirkell’s room.”

He followed the man to Thirkell’s door and banged on it, hard. There was no answer. Thirkell always slept like a log. Nev pounded harder. “Thirkell!”

“My lord,” the butler said in pained accents, “people are sleeping.”

“And I want them to bloody well stop, that’s the point. Thirkell!”