She had not come here to defend her entire existence, but to apologise for a slap. And yet she was standing before a gathering of strangers, being made to account for the fact that she had dared to refuse a marriage she did not want.
"I have apologised for striking you," she said. "I shall not apologise for refusing a marriage I did not wish to enter."
"Then I am afraid you have misunderstood the purpose of this conversation," he said, his voice losing its genial warmth. "I did not ask you to explain your decisions. I asked you to apologise for your conduct."
"And I have done so."
"Have you?" He glanced around at the witnesses. "I wonder whether the assembled company would agree."
Penelope felt a wave of humiliation so sharp that she almost forgot to breathe.
There it was again: the audience, the appeal to public opinion, the implication that her own understanding of what she had said was somehow insufficient.
