Silence stretched between them carefully, and thankfully this time, it wasn't awkward. It was measured and tested, the kind that revealed its importance.
Lord Ashbourne studied her in a way that felt different now, less like polite inspection, and more like evaluation. The kind that made her seem carefully assessed, and at the same time, curiously intriguing.
"Then perhaps you should tell me yours," he said at last, an undeniable interest in his tone, going straight to the point.
That again, Penelope found cultured unlike the previous men she'd been with. He was smart. Undeniably smart. And cautious too.
Penelope did not hesitate. "I believe I already have."
His brow lifted.
"I require a husband," She continued, her tone even and unwavering despite the desperation ticking at the back of her mind, and the urgency at the tip of her tongue. "You require an heir."
The air shifted at once, and silence wrapped the room instantly. Long gone were pleasantries or delicate maneuvering, the truth sounded heavier than her thoughts.
A long time ago, men like him were far from her target audience. Those who found compliments trivial, and selfish objectives similar. Those who saw women as breeders, and their buyers.
But what could be worse than her sister passing on to men deemed superior to society? What could be worse than spending the rest of your life marked by debts?
Penelope wanted to ensure she stated her purpose and was not being orbited like a societal animal. Time was a luxury, and she wanted to ensure every second was carefully spent with reasonable prospects.
She had just one week. And week, she thought, moved faster than seconds in a blink of an eye.
"You are remarkably direct," he said again, though there was something quieter beneath the words now, something more attentive, just like she wanted.
"And you are remarkably composed," She returned. "It seemed only fair to match you."
A corner of his mouth curved faintly. "Fairness," he repeated, tasting the word with interest. "A rare preference."
"I find it saves time."
"Time which you have already made quite clear is… limited,"
Penelope's gaze did not waver. "Then you understand why I have little interest in unnecessary games."
"Aye," He said, leaning forward slightly now, his attention fully fixed on her. "And yet you chose to come here."
"Yes."
"Why?"
It was a simple question, quite a dangerous one on her part, but she'd already prepared for queries far worse than these.
Penelope allowed herself a single breath before answering. "Because you are a good man." Rehearsed. It was deliberate, measured, and entirely intentional, she hoped.
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or something close to it. "You say that with a great deal of certainty."
"I made certain," She replied.
His eyes narrowed, just slightly to say, "You investigated me." It wasn't a question, yet at the same time, not a statement as well.
"I informed myself of the basics," She corrected calmly.
A pause transpired between them, just enough for the words to land with definite meaning.
A quiet exhale, almost like amusement, broke the stillness abruptly. Lord Philip seemed to study her intensely and said, "I see."
Penelope watched him closely now.
This was the moment, the point where something would shift, either a crack in the perfection… or confirmation of it. Whatever it was, she was more than willing to accept it.
"Then you already know that I do not make reckless decisions," he emphasized, and Penelope gave a small smile.
"I would not be here if you did."
Another silence passed, but this one felt heavier and more deliberate, the type that spoke clearly without a word of a decision being considered.
And it stretched far longer than necessary. A huge clock rested firmly at the corner opposite a portrait that ticked restlessly, indicating seconds that turned minutes, and a full hour that would soon conclude.
Penelope had barely been here, but she felt she'd wasted more than she could count.
"And yet you propose a courtship of one week," The absurdity of his words didn't quite go unnoticed in her ears.
But Penelope was far too desperate to consider. "Yes."
"That is not a careful decision."
"No," She agreed softly. "It is not."
His gaze held hers, searching, weighing, and measuring something unspoken. "Then it must be a desperate one," he concluded. The words landed without cruelty and without softness either.
Penelope did not flinch. "It is a necessary one."
The air between them shifted, as though the conversation had finally shed its last layer of pretense.
Suddenly, silence became discomforting, and the drawing room became too small to tolerate the sudden awkwardness.
It was a drawn battle between the lady and the lord, a fierce competition of who would break the spell.
Lord Philip moved, leaning away from the chair, resting both hands on his knees. He stippled his fingers, those eyes fixed on the lady before him. "And what happens at the end of that week, Miss Anderson?"
Penelope held his gaze. Her heart raced wildly against her chest, but she still managed a steady, unyielding gaze.
The admission terrified her as much as the truth. What if he changed his mind? What if he doesn't accept me? What if he finds me desperate, someone not worthy enough for his calibre?
Penelope allowed herself a grounding breath, and lifted her chin, as the earlier hesitation vanished into thin air.
Allowing herself the moment of sheer honesty, "At the end of that week, you will either ask for my hand…" A pause followed, enough for her to consider her next words carefully before adding, "…or I will find someone who will."
That's it.
A deep unbroken silence followed, heavy that she could hear the rapid beat of her heart in her ears, and the manner in which the clock ticked, louder than before. Or so she thought.
And for the first time since she had entered the room, Lord Ashbourne did not respond immediately, which Penelope realized was half an answer in itself.
Finally, "How confident are you that at the end of this arrangement, the outcome is not solely in your favor? He inquired, studying her carefully. "What assurance do I have that this is… mutually beneficial?"
Penelope's heart dropped in her stomach. She knew where he was heading. Just like she expected. "I assure you, society has little influence over my capacity to fulfill my role,"
"I find words less convincing, Miss Anderson," he said. "So as rumors. But I would like to be assured otherwise,"
"And what do you suggest, Lord Philip?" She asked, grateful her sudden irritation didn't influence her tone and composure.
"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Anderson," Oh, you can imagine, the words were barely at the tip of her tongue. "I'm merely ensuring that any bargain struck is fair and just,"
"I understand you quite well, my Lord, but that doesn't answer the question," What's with the habit of moving in circles, and not being direct?
But deep down, Penelope knew she wouldn't like what she'd hear next.
"If I am to approve this… contract, then surely I must ensure that all conditions align with my expectations," He said. "And with that being said, if you agree to my terms, I'd require confirmation of your ability to produce an heir."