For a moment, she did not know what to do with it.
Penelope cleared her throat softly. "You needn't concern yourself with what Lord Bexley considers himself entitled to do," she said at last. "I am quite accustomed to men believing they possess some claim over my decisions."
Something shifted in Anthony's expression.
It was not sympathy—Penelope would have found that almost intolerable. Nor was it the smug satisfaction of a man who believed he had uncovered some secret weakness.
For a moment, he looked at her. Then his gaze moved away. "That is a rather unfortunate thing to be accustomed to," He remarked.
She almost laughed. Unfortunately, it wasn't because the observation was amusing, but because it was so utterly useless.
Acknowledging her misfortune would not change it. She did not need him to tell her that society was cruel to women who lacked fortune, influence, or the protection of a powerful husband.
