Page 1 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

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The closer her family’s traveling coach came to her wedding, the more Penelope Montgomery wished she could turn tail and run.

Her mother’s continuous burbles about the romance of Christmas weddings, as though this had not all been arranged when Penny was a mere child, made her want to scream.

A scream would echo oddly in the coach, likely muffled by the thick curtains that covered the windows and warm blankets that covered Penny, her mother, and Penny’s identical twin sister, Pippa.

Penny looked over at her sister, who had finally awakened after sleeping like the dead all the way from their last change of horses. Pippa lifted the curtain to look out the carriage window with a frown. Mother followed Penny’s gaze.

“Stop that, Pippa. You’re letting in a draft. Your sister will freeze.”

“Sorry, Mother,” Pippa said, without dropping the curtain. “I do believe it will snow.”

“It would be lovely to have snow for Christmas!” Mother gushed. Then she frowned. “But not until all of the guests have arrived. It would be dreadful to have everyone trapped on the road. Your father is still on his way from whatever that business was that sent him to Manchester.”

“If Papa is late, we could postpone the wedding,” Penny said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

Mother glared at her. “Bridal jitters are all very well, my dear, but it’s a bit late now. You shall be married in three days’ time.” She sighed. “A Christmas Eve wedding. So romantic.”

The rumble of the carriage wheels and clatter of the horses’ hooves picked up the rhythm of Mother’s words.

Three days’ time… three days’ time…

Penny had only three more days to escape her fate.

As the coach rounded the drive, she lifted the curtain on her own side of the carriage despite Mother’s fussing about the cold. That same cold seeped into Penny’s already aching bones as she regarded the gray stone walls that rose starkly against the winter-brown countryside.

In three days’ time, this would be her home. Away from her family. Away from her sister. Alone with a man who still felt like a virtual stranger even though they had known each other since they were children.

Barring one half-hearted attempt the previous year, he had never even so much as kissed her.

Not that she particularly wanted him to.

The carriage drew to a halt and the Duke of Kendal emerged from the front door, closely followed by a bevy of footmen. Carefully, Penny unfolded her limbs from the carriage seat. The painful swelling of her joints that had plagued her all through her recovery from the fever that had nearly killed her was becoming less frequent, but the cold, damp weather had made it flare up again. Combined with the rigors of travel, her aching joints wanted nothing more than a warm bed and perhaps some bitter but soothing willow bark tea.

But that could not be allowed, of course. She was the future Duchess of Kendal. The rituals must be adhered to. She must greet the servants, and then attend the reception with the whole family, and then dress for dinner, and then, and then, and then…

Penny shook out her skirts and pasted a smile on her face as the carriage door opened and a footman lowered the steps. Her gloved hand crept into the pocket of her pelisse to make certain the tiny wooden swallow was still there. Her good luck charm.

Before Penny could get to her feet, Mother all but leaped for the open door, startling the waiting footman, and made a precipitous descent, chattering all the way down. Taking a deep breath, Penny put weight on her sore joints and stood, her head stooped to avoid catching her traveling bonnet on the roof of the coach.

As she descended from the carriage, Penny looked beyond Kendal to see a familiar figure standing just inside the door, and her heart made a little leap even as her step faltered.

Hugo had come after all.

It had been uncertain whether Kendal’s younger brother would be able to get away from London, or so Kendal had written her. With Napoleon safely stashed away on St. Helena, Hugo had won his first official command as a post-captain after competing with most of the other captains of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The Navy’s reduction in forces following the Allied victory at Waterloo had left many captains scrambling to find berths, which made Hugo’s accomplishment even more impressive.

Once he had left to be a midshipman, Penny had only seen Hugo once a year, or every few years, depending on his assignment, always with a new tale of derring-do at sea for his younger cousins... and for Penny to eavesdrop on, if she happened to be nearby.

She had always tried to be nearby.

But now the war was over, and he was here.

Penny busied herself with straightening her skirts once her feet were firmly on the ground, her heart pounding. The thought of marrying Kendal was already dreadful, but to have to do it with Hugo watching would be unbearable. He was always… judging her and her frivolous ways. Lurking in corners, frowning at her. Her skin prickled with heat every time she caught him looking at her with those disapproving brown eyes. He had only ever made one gesture that made her wonder if she was wrong about him.

Her hand strayed to where the tiny hand-carved swallow rested in her pocket before she tossed her head and straightened her bonnet. She didn’t care what Captain Lord Hugo Dalston thought of her. Not in the slightest.

Instead, she smiled at Kendal.