Page 6 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

Hugo had little knowledge of medicine, but even he knew what that meant. A rheumatic fever often damaged the patient’s heart, leading to their early and untimely death.

The cue clattered from his hand onto the table before Hugo snatched it back up to complete his shot. He hit the cue ball too hard and the targeted ball went spinning uselessly across the table. Rawleigh crowed at finally getting a chance to play, and Hugo stepped back until he was nearly touching the wall.

Uncle Pengarth arched a puzzled eyebrow at him before turning to speak to a cousin on his other side.

Any resignation about the wedding Hugo had clung to shattered into pieces, showing how fragile it had always been. Penny had survived her illness, but her survival was only fleeting. She could potentially die at any moment, betrayed by an invisibly diseased heart.

He made his excuses, scarcely knowing what he said, and walked out of the room to stand irresolutely in the hallway.

It now made sense why her family was still pushing the marriage so strongly even after her illness. As the Duchess of Kendal, Penny would have the finest medical care in the kingdom available to her. Specialists. Spa towns. Her father’s mere riches could not purchase the kind of access the Kendal name would grant her. She would be coddled and pampered her whole life.

However much there was left of it.

Any childish dreams he had had of winning her away from his brother were dead. He could never offer her the life of safety and luxury she would have with Oliver.

She must marry Oliver. It was for her own good.

Hugo set his jaw as he turned his steps towards Oliver’s library. He would leave in the morning. Now that he knew how close to death Penny had been—how close she still was—he could not stand in the village church and watch her wed Oliver. But before he left, he must be certain his brother was prepared to care for Penny the way her health would require.

Hugo tapped on the door of his brother’s library and opened it, not bothering to wait for Oliver to respond. A nearly-drained glass of brandy sat on the small table at his brother’s elbow, and Hugo nodded at it.

“Drinking already?”

Oliver scowled. “I needed to think.”

“About what?” Perhaps Oliver was having qualms about the marriage given Penny’s health.

His brother was silent for a long moment before he shrugged and said, “About the wedding, of course. The vicar sent a note confirming the time, and the ladies of the church are already decorating.”

Oliver’s careless tone grated on Hugo’s nerves, and he crossed to the table that held the decanters. “I think perhaps I shall join you.”

He poured himself a small glass of brandy, surprised at how steady his hand was, and returned to seat himself in the armchair across from Oliver’s.

He must know. He must know what Oliver’s thoughts were on wedding a woman who might die at any moment.

“Has the physician said Pen—Penelope is strong enough to marry?”

Oliver shrugged. “Her father has assured me she has recovered well from the pneumonia that complicated her initial illness. She still has some other small effects, but is otherwise fit. Or so he says.”

Hugo was unsure Penny’s obvious pain when walking and standing meant she was “otherwise fit,” but he let it pass for now. “And what of her heart?”

Oliver frowned at him. “It is an arranged marriage, Hugo. Penelope and I both know it is no love match.”

Hugo briefly closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “No, you blockhead. I meant her heart.”

“Oh! That. The physician said there is no way to predict that with any accuracy. She could be fine for decades to come, or not.”

Hugo could see it had not occurred to Oliver to even consider Penny’s health after her near-fatal illness, and resentment rose in his throat. He would take better care of her, if Penny were his.

He cast his eyes down to his brandy to conceal his expression. “I see.”

Oliver set his glass down with a thump. “I cannot wait any longer, Hugo. We must marry before the loan her grandfather made us comes due when she turns twenty-five next year, or the consequences for our family will be dire.”

Hugo knew that. More than anyone else in the family alive today, he knew how crucial it was for Penny to marry Oliver. The family would be utterly ruined if Oliver or Penny called a halt to the proceedings. The loan her grandfather had made to their father would come due immediately, with interest, and Hugo knew the estate could not stretch to repay it. Oliver had only just managed to make the last of their properties profitable again.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Hugo said, and took a deep draught of the brandy in his hand. It was bitter in his mouth.

There was nothing more he—or anyone—could do. Oliver would do his best, and Hugo could only return to his duty and wait for the inevitable letter that would tell him Penny was gone.