"The only way I would believe that," she said slowly, "is if I see him. This supposed twin brother of yours."
"The Queen's Ball," Lord Ashmore said immediately. "He'll be there. I'll make certain of it."
"Fine," Penelope said. "I'll wait until the Queen's Ball to decide whether you're a liar or not."
"But you must promise," he added urgently, "to keep this between us. Don't tell your family. Don't tell anyone."
Penelope frowned. "Why would you want to keep that a secret? If your brother is the real criminal, why not expose him?"
"It's..." He sighed, looking more troubled than she'd ever seen him. "It's complicated. Family matters always are. Please, Lady Carrington. I have not done much to earn your trust, I know that. But I'm asking you to give me until the Queen's Ball. I will explain everything then. I promise."
The rain was still falling, though less violently now. It had settled into a steady rhythm, more soothing than deafening.
Penelope considered. She should say no. Should march straight home and tell Anthony everything. But the emotion in his eyes was enough to make her pause.
"Very well," she said finally. "I'll keep your secret. Until the Queen's Ball. But if you don't make good on this promise—"
"I will," he said quickly. "I swear it."
An awkward silence fell between them. The rain pattered on the remaining roof tiles, and Moonbeam shifted, her hooves squelching in the mud.
Then Lord Ashmore smiled, his sardonic, knowing smile that had first irritated her so thoroughly. "I see Lord Ellington has gotten your attention."
Penelope felt heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with his cloak. "What? Of course not!"
"No?" His smile widened. "You seemed quite cozy with him at the races. Laughing, placing bets together, having intimate conversations..."
"I am just helping a friend," Penelope said firmly. "That's all."
"Is that so?" He tilted his head, studying her in that unnerving way he had. "And does this 'friend' know you're helping him? Or does he think you've suddenly developed a tendre for earnest earls who step on ladies' toes when they dance?"
"How did you—" Penelope stopped herself. "Were you spying on us?"
"Hardly spying. You were at a public event. I merely observed." He leaned against one of the stone pillars, seemingly unconcerned about the rain still dripping from his clothes. "So what is it? Trying to make another suitor jealous? Playing matchmaker? Or have you actually fallen for Ellington's fumbling charm?"
"It is none of your business," Penelope retorted, but she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips.
"Everything about you is my business, Lady Carrington," he said lightly. "You're far too entertaining to ignore."
"There you go again," she said. "Comparing me to entertainment. Should I be flattered?"
"Absolutely. I'm very particular about my entertainment."
Penelope laughed despite herself. "You're insufferable."
"So you've mentioned. Multiple times, if memory serves." He glanced up at the sky, where the clouds were beginning to part. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle. "It appears the storm is passing. You should get home before your family sends out a search party."
He moved toward her, offering his hand to help her mount Moonbeam. Penelope accepted it, surprised by the warmth of his palm against hers even through her wet riding gloves.
As he helped her settle into the saddle, she couldn't resist asking: "What were you doing in the forest anyway? Truly?"
His eyes flashed, just for a moment, something that might have been panic or guilt or something else entirely. Then he looked down, his expression smoothing back.
"I walked around here last week," he said. "I misplaced my watch. It was very dear to me, so I've been searching for it whenever I can."
Penelope frowned. "Really?"
"Of course." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a watch, old, beautifully crafted, with intricate engravings on the case. "Found it this morning, actually. Just before the rain started."
Penelope studied the watch, then his face. "Hmm. I believe you."
She didn't, not entirely. But whatever he had actually been doing in the forest, it seemed he wasn't going to tell her the truth. Not yet, anyway.
Lord Ashmore suddenly slapped Moonbeam's rump, startling the mare into movement. "Go on, then. Home with you."
Moonbeam's tail whipped around in response, catching Lord Ashmore directly across the mouth. He sputtered, wiping horse hair from his face, while Penelope dissolved into laughter.
"She doesn't quite like that," Penelope managed between giggles.
"Clearly a horse of impeccable taste," he said dryly, still picking hair from his teeth.
Penelope gathered her reins, still smiling. "I shall be expecting you to make good on your claims next week, Lord Ashmore. At the Queen's Ball."
"I will," he said, his expression turning serious again. "I promise, Lady Carrington. Everything will be explained."
"It had better be. Goodbye, Lord Ashmore."
"Goodbye, Lady Carrington."
Penelope urged Moonbeam into a trot, then a canter as they left the shelter behind. She didn't look back, but she could feel his gaze following her until she disappeared between the trees.
She was still thinking about him when she reached the stables, where Calliope stood waiting with a very disapproving expression and a very dry blanket.
"You're soaked through," her cousin said accusingly.
"I know."
"And you're smiling like a fool."
"I know."
"Penelope Carrington, what on earth happened in that forest?"
Penelope dismounted, accepting the blanket and wrapping it around Lord Ashmore's still-warm cloak. "I think," she said slowly, "I might have been wrong about someone."
"Who?"
But Penelope just smiled and headed toward the house, leaving her cousin sputtering questions behind her.