There were only two reasons why Penelope was surviving this picnic on her back lawn. One being Lady Farrington, who effortlessly countered every single ridiculous thing that Lady Bucklebee had declared this afternoon. And the second being Colonel Ash—Beckett—who hovered beneath the shade of the giant oak tree nearby. Penelope enjoyed watching his face contort with bemusement as the ladies' comment grew more and more absurd.

He would be quite horrendous at poker.

Penelope did not know why he even bothered lingering about the picnic. Surely there was no danger lurking between the rose bushes or in a group of six ladies of the ton. Surely it was a waste of his time. And yet, there he stood, crossing his arms over his chest with a surly expression.

"Have you heard that Lady Francesca Yates is hoping for a match with Lord Hatherly?"

Lady Bucklebee had not stopped gossiping since they sat down with their lemonade, and Penelope was getting rather bored with it. But she leaned in with feigned interest anyway.

"I do think that she shall have to at least speak to the man, then," Penelope said, laughing. "I have only ever seen her avoiding company at Almack's."

"Not all ladies possess your exuberant nature, Lady Hutton," Lady Winchester cut in, saying the word exuberant as though it were a dreaded trait.

Penelope somehow refrained from making a face.

"Yes," Lady Bucklebee agreed eagerly, her tight curls bouncing in a way that made Penelope want to smack them out of annoyance. "You do not really have a right to speak on the matter, do you, Lady Hutton?"

She made a little cooing sound in the back of her throat that was thick with judgment. Penelope's stomach turned. She had an idea of where this was going.

"You might have gotten Lord Hutton to marry you, but it isn't as though you were able to keep him from straying."

There it was. Even though she had been expecting it, Penelope could not deny the damage she felt to her pride. She flashed a pinched smile, but it became increasingly forced as Lady Bucklebee continued.

"Men wish for quiet women like Lady Francesca. She shall be quite fine, I suspect."

Quiet women, indeed. Penelope sniffed and opened her mouth to retort, but Scarlett got there before her.

"I rather think that a man's departure from a marriage says much more about him than about the lady." She turned her hawkish gaze upon the other ladies who lowered their eyes in response.

Lady Farrington was a woman whom other women knew not to cross.

Not only was Scarlett the most beautiful specimen to grace the ton, but she was also in control of The London Times and friends with the queen. Lady Farrington had the power to make or break a woman with a single flick of her wrist. Even more so because she was also a notorious gossip columnist, Madame Mischief. Not that any of these women knew that. 

"I do believe Lady Hutton was simply saying that to learn if Lord Hatherly is worth marrying, Lady Francesca should perhaps speak to him first. I found that talking to Lord Farrington was very helpful in deciding if we should wed."

Scarlett raised an amused brow as she politely sipped on her drink. Catching Penelope's eye, she winked.

Thank goodness for this woman.

Since none of the ladies wished to cross Scarlett, it grew quiet. The only noise was the rustling of the rose bushes and then the occasional chirp of a bird. Penelope took a moment to relieve the parched feeling in her throat, sipping the watered-down lemonade.

Thankfully, the picnic did not last much longer, and Penelope was finally able to watch the backs of the other ladies as they retreated back inside. She waited, saying she wished to enjoy the sun for just a few moments longer.

Of course, it was a lie. Penelope was a sweaty mess beneath her muslin gown. But she did wish to enjoy some peace and quiet.

They were only a week into this house party, and Penelope dreadfully desired it to be finished.

"I do not know how you do it."

Penelope jumped at Beckett's low voice, having forgotten for a moment that he was there. He strode over to her, hands in his pockets.

"Do what, Colonel?"

"Put up with the lot of them."

"They are not all so bad," Penelope said.

They truly weren't. It mainly was Lady Bucklebee who drove Penelope to insanity.

Colonel Ash did not look convinced.

"You know, you did not need to come. I was quite fine on my own."

He nodded. "I know."

"Tell me, then, why you decided to grace us with your presence."

Beckett shrugged. "What else is a man to do?"

"Perhaps gather intel for the queen on our prime suspect?"

The colonel made a face that told Penelope that was the last thing he wished to do.

"The man is a pompous idiot. I spent the morning riding with him and Farrington, and I simply could not take it any longer."

Laughing, Penelope asked, "Well, did you at least learn anything about Lawton?"

"I suppose, yes." He considered that. "But I do not think it is anything that you need to concern yourself with, my lady."

"Whyever should I not be concerned?"

Beckett drew in a deep breath and looked to the sky for a long moment before speaking. "It is not for ladies' ears."

Penelope had barely opened her mouth to protest before he interjected once more.

"Do not even bother, Penelope. I am not going to tell you."

She sniffed, indignant. "I will simply ask Leo."

The colonel scowled at that, likely because he knew that Leo would end up telling her. But honestly, he could not drop bread crumbs like that and then leave her without dessert.

It grew quiet as Beckett leaned against the brick wall that lined the back of the garden, crossing his legs and watching her closely. It was slightly unnerving. Penelope felt a little shiver go through her despite the heat.

She sucked in a breath. "I should likely head inside soon to clean up before dinner."

Beckett nodded again. His eyes didn't leave her as she stood from the checkered blanket they'd laid over the prickly grass. Penelope swatted at her skirts, hoping to loosen some of the wrinkles that had appeared this afternoon. But it was useless. She sighed and began to turn around.

Beckett's voice stopped her.

"For the record," he said lowly. "I cannot fathom why a man would marry you and then stray elsewhere."

Penelope froze. She swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat before swiveling back to face the colonel.

"No, I imagine you cannot," she said stiffly. "You would not be one to take a mistress, I suppose. A loyal man, aren't you?"

He shook his head and pushed off the brick wall, taking slow steps toward Penelope. "That is not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" she asked breathily.

"I sense you are not a woman to entertain a man after he's gone to sleep elsewhere, no?"

"That would be correct."

"I suspected as much." He nodded. "And any man who would give you up is a fool, Penelope."

He punctuated that by raking his eyes down her body and then walking away.

Leaving Penelope to bask in a different kind of heat.