The Wallflower Wager - Tessa Dare Page 0,34

even make it through the door.”

“Why not?” The bed creaked as he rolled onto his side. “That doesn’t make sense. Aside from the whole daughter-of-an-earl bit, you’re an amiable person. Far too amiable, in my estimation. Is it the crowds? The noise?”

“No, it’s . . .” Cringing, she turned to face him. “It’s the hedgehog.”

To that, he had no response other than a blank look. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected one.

“I was sixteen the year of my debut. I’d been dreading it for years. At finishing school, I hadn’t fit in with the other girls. I was always more comfortable with animals than people. While the rest of the pupils were painting flowers with their watercolors, I was returning fledglings to their nests. Making friends with hedgehogs. Like Freya.”

She picked at a loose thread on the quilt. “As you can imagine, the other pupils poked fun at me. Laughed at my expense. You know how girls are at that age.”

“Actually, I’m not certain I do.”

“It doesn’t matter. Eventually, I found truer friends. But when I first came to London, I felt rather alone and completely unprepared. My parents were in India, and my Aunt Caroline was—is—a formidable woman. She insisted I enter society. I didn’t want a formal debut, so we compromised, settling on an introduction at Almack’s.”

“Almack’s?” He pulled a face.

“I know, it’s horrid. Do you know they only serve lemonade and biscuits now? I hear they’re not even good. Anyhow, I was so nervous. I didn’t think I could face the ordeal on my own. So I tucked Freya into my pocket.”

“Your gown had pockets?”

“Every gown should have pockets. My Aunt Caroline always insisted, and it’s the one thing on which we agree.” She frowned in concentration. “Where was I?”

“At Almack’s for your grand social debut, eating dry biscuits and hiding a hedgehog in your pocket.”

“Yes. Well, there’s not much else to tell. My first dance was with Bernard Wendleby. He asked me out of family obligation, of course. He didn’t wish to be there any more than I did. Our steps crossed during the quadrille, and his hip collided with mine. I suppose you can see where this is going.”

He nodded slowly. “My mind is painting a picture.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “No need to describe it for you, then.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I want to hear every last detail.”

She’d feared he would say that. “Freya startled, pricking Bernard with her quills. Bernard jumped in alarm, stepping on my foot. I stumbled forward, sprawling onto the floor. And . . .”

“And . . . ?”

“And Freya fell out of my pocket. She rolled across the floor like a ball in lawn bowls. People scattered like pins.”

A low rumble started in his chest.

“Don’t laugh.” She buffeted him with a pillow. “It’s not kind.”

He wrenched the pillow from her grasp. “I never claimed to be kind.”

“I was humiliated. It wasn’t funny.”

“Not at the time, perhaps. Here and now? It is exceedingly funny, and you know it.”

Penny supposed it was. It had been years, hadn’t it?

At the time, her friends had attempted to console her. They’d told her that in time the mortification would fade and the episode would be an amusing story for dinner parties.

Except that she didn’t attend many parties after that.

Now, so removed from that world of Mayfair snobbery, Penny could look back on the scene and appreciate the absurd humor. Once she started giggling, she couldn’t stop.

“The worst of it . . .” She wiped away tears of laughter. “The worst of it was, one of the patronesses—I can’t recall which one—fainted into the lemonade. She was standing behind me when I fell, and when she saw the hedgehog rolling across the floor . . .” She buried a giggle in her palm. “She thought it was my head. That I’d somehow decapitated myself when I hit the floor, and my head had gone rolling.”

He shook his head. “Astounding. I never dreamed I’d say this about Almack’s—but I wish I’d been there.”

“If you want to visit, you’ll have to find someone else to take you. My voucher was revoked,” she said proudly. “For life.”

“A pity.” He propped his head on his folded arm and regarded her intently. “So what’s the true reason?”

“The true reason for what?”

“Your retreat from society. Your life as a wallflower.”

“I just told you.”

“You told me a story about one embarrassing moment, years in the past. I’m to believe an earl’s daughter was exiled from the ton over a hedgehog?” He shook his