Thirteen
John slid across the floor on his back with a furious Colton on top of him.
“You were supposed to court her, not marry her,” Colton raged, plunging a fist into John’s jaw.
Trained in the art of warfare and a skilled fighter, John swung an arm up around his brother’s shoulders, and, using his legs, easily flipped Colton, successfully reversing their positions. John pinned his brother’s shoulders against the floor. “You gave up any say in the matter when you became engaged to Miss Featherton.”
Despite his disadvantaged position, Colton continued to fight. “It’s a code of honor, brother.”
“You know nothing of honor.” John dodged another fist and slammed Colton back into the unforgiving floor. “What sort of honorable man bribes another to pay a woman court?”
Colton’s only response was another punishing fist to John’s shoulder.
“Enough of this!” Penelope cried, rushing forward. She grabbed John’s upper arm, yanking him backward. “Help me please!” she cried to the stunned crowd of onlookers.
Several gentlemen rushed forward to aide in separating the brothers.
John slid off of Colton, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. Penelope knelt beside him. “If you wanted Penelope you should have married her yourself.”
“I couldn’t,” Colt spat, face flushed red with rage. “She has no money. I lost a fortune to Featherton last July. Marrying his daughter was the only way to cry off of the debt.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
John rocked back, releasing his breath in a long whoosh. The fight drained from his bones as he gazed at his brother. “Gambling debts.” John shook his head. “I should have known.”
Colton was visibly deflated, breathing heavily.
“One day you will learn the true meaning of value,” John said quietly. He could think of nothing profound or encouraging to say. Only Colton could make the decision to grow up and learn responsibility.
“Beginning today,” a woman’s voice cut the silence.
Colton’s eyes widened. Regret and full-on fear cascaded down his face. “Miss Featherton.”
A pretty young lady with chestnut brown hair, garbed in a pink and white lace gown sashayed forward. She wrenched a diamond engagement ring off her finger and dropped it in Colton’s lap. “Consider your debt null and void. The same can be said for our engagement.” She turned on a heel, showing Colton her back. “Use your freedom wisely, Your Grace.”
Miss Featherton gracefully exited the ballroom. Her father followed immediately. Michael Featherton appeared absolutely murderous—understandable given the turn of events.
The low hum of conversation began to buzz through the crowd.
Gentle fingers wrapped around John’s bicep. He turned to find Penelope kneeling beside him. Expression soft and caring. Her eyes alive with excitement. “This night will have tongues wagging for a month.”
John grinned. “Perhaps longer.” He sobered, worried that she may yet refuse him and dampen his heart. Now that the duke was back on the market, would she go back to Colton? Rona’s wounds ran deep, as did the doubts accompanying the scars she’d left. “What say you?”
“John—”
“Lady Penelope, get away from him.” Colonel Holbrook rapidly approached, his pompous air dripping self-importance. How typical that the colonel had only approached once the fighting was over. Holbrook stopped, standing over John with a dark glower. “How dare you propose to my fiancé before the entire ton?”
“Your fiancé!” Penelope leapt to her feet, anger flushing her cheeks a brilliant red hue. “I never had any intention of marrying you, Colonel.”
Holbrook flushed. “No intention. But you… I…” His voice trailed off as he glanced about the room, the full import of public humiliation striking him.
John couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction.
Holbrook glared down at John. “This is your fault,” he growled.
“Consider us even,” John replied, climbing to his feet.
Penelope’s big green eyes snapped to John’s, understanding pooled in the depths. “You mean…”
John nodded gravely. “Yes,” he answered simply. Years ago Colonel Holbrook had seduced John’s young wife and gotten her with child.
Penelope glared at Holbrook. “You are despicable.” She promptly turned her back on the colonel, and John could have kissed her—Lord knew he wanted to.
She scooped the engagement ring John had purchased that afternoon from the floor and faced John, eyes aglow. She handed him the ring. His heart clenched with a moment of fear and regret. She was going to refuse him.
Penelope beamed. “A quiet life in northern England sounds like heaven.” She held out her left hand. “John, I would love nothing more than to marry you. I don’t know how it happened so quickly, but I love you too.”
Slipping the engagement ring onto her finger, John grinned. Pure joy fused the old scars marring his soul. Amazing, but Penelope healed him, made him a whole man again. He slid an arm about her waist, and, proper or otherwise, tugged her close. “Is this madness?” he asked.
“Perhaps.” A slow smile stretched across her tempting lips. “Or a bit of magic, but I think madness is necessary while falling in love.”
She tilted her head back and he claimed her mouth in a possessive—thoroughly scandalous—kiss.
The entire ballroom cheered. It was Valentine’s Day after all.
The End
