The forest fell silent again.
Heat bloomed across Penelope's face. It wasn't merely from humiliation, though there was certainly enough of that to set her aflame. It burned with indignation, with outrage, and with something else she refused to name.
Penelope lifted her chin, attempting to summon what little dignity remained to her. "Well?" she snapped. "Must you continue standing there like a statue?"
His mouth curved, barely, for one to acknowledge as a smile. "I find it remarkable that you remain so spirited considering the circumstances," he said slowly.
"Spirited?" Penelope sputtered. "I am being seen, by someone who clearly lacks decency!"
"Yes," he replied mildly, clearly unbothered by her outburst. "You have mentioned it several times."
She glared at him with enough force to wither an oak. "Turn. Around."
The stranger sighed, though it sounded more amused than inconvenienced. "As you wish."
Thank goodness!
He straightened, taking all the time in the world. But to Penelope's utter horror, the man stepped forward and rose from the lake.
Water streamed down his figure as he climbed onto the rocks with the unhurried ease of someone entirely untroubled by the situation.
Penelope gasped and jerked her head sharply away. What-?! Her face burned hotter than ever.
What—?! How—? Shameless creature! Finally, she had a mind of her own. A scandalous man! To move about so freely without so much as a warning—
Gods, she wanted to explode!
He might at least have said something! Penelope fumed internally. A cough! A word! A declaration that he intended to rise like some barbarian sea god!
Behind her, she could hear the quiet sound of water dripping onto stone as he stepped onto the shore and the rustle of fabric followed, but she refused the internal temptation to steal a glance.
Although from the corner of her eye—entirely against her will—Penelope caught a fleeting glimpse of him moving across the bank.
He was tall. Extraordinarily tall, in fact. Even from the water she could see how his height commanded the space around him as he crossed toward the trees. With broad shoulders, long stride, and the careless confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
Oh heavens.
Her stomach twisted, and she immediately looked away again. Not in her most raucous dream did she ever imagine herself in such a position. Not for once did she think or reckon on a scandalous encounter such as this.
"You could look, if that is what you desire." His voice floated back toward her, stealing a small amount of her breath.
Penelope flushed violently. Taking a deep breath to steady her tone despite the chaos of her beating heart, "I desire nothing more than your absence,"
A chuckle followed. Penelope almost forgot how to breathe. How can a mere chuckle sound so… Captivating? "How disappointing."
Another rustle of fabric suggested he had begun retrieving his clothes, and she shook away the sudden reverie.
After a moment he spoke again with a tone infuriatingly conversational that Penelope found unavoidable. "You might consider dressing soon."
"And whose fault is it that I cannot?" she snapped.
There was an indefinite pause that followed before his voice broke the silence. "The dress," Penelope clenched her teeth when she heard him say. "It would require assistance for the laces, if I am not mistaken,"
"I am perfectly capable!" Why would a man know and speak of aiding her with her dress?! And of all things, that was the most dishonorable assistance she'd ever known.
"Of course."
Another beat passed.
Penelope remained immovable as a rock, keeping a straight face as the rustle of clothes continued. She buried her body even deeper into the lake, so the water wrapped her neck.
"Though should you require assistance—"
"I would sooner drown myself in this lake."
His laughter this time was unmistakable, and for the nth time, Penelope's breath hitched. Why did it sound so... "I admire the conviction."
Penelope heard the sound of boots against the earth as he moved farther from the water, "Are you quite certain you would not prefer help fastening it?" He added lazily.
"I would prefer that you leave this forest entirely." She shot back.
"As you wish," he said, and something about his tone shifted slightly into becoming more serious when he added, "You may have noticed your screaming carried rather well. The forest is not always as empty as you believe," he continued, and Penelope froze. "If anyone heard…"
He left the sentence unfinished, and her stomach sank. He was right. Entirely, most-aggravatingly right. If someone had heard her screaming, then they would have been alerted to proceed towards this part of the forest.
Oh heavens. What have I done? She thought, cussing the mannerless coward of a man. Had he not announced his presence the way he did, perhaps, just perhaps I wouldn't have screamed that loud! And why on earth would a man be found naked under a lake with a naked woman?! What honor was left of her then?
Penelope wanted to burst in sheer anger and embarrassment. She glared fire and ice at the tree trunk she could find, wishing she could glare at the man with such propriety.
A long silence followed before she heard the faint jingle of harness and leather. A horse? She thought. Moments later came the unmistakable sound of hooves shifting on earth.
"Good afternoon, Fiery," he said, and Penelope's breath caught.
Fiery?
She had not told him her name, but she doubted anyone in the ton was unaware of her identity. The spinster, she was mostly known as, while popularly called The Withered Debutante.
Penelope wouldn't have been surprised if he had addressed her as any of the titles. She'd grown accustomed to several names more than that, and more that is to come. Although hearing such a name, made her speechless.
Before Penelope could demand an explanation,
"You might also consider that solitude is rarely guaranteed in forests," he said casually, before adding, "and perhaps next time, I'll be gentlemanly to turn around,"
How dare he!
Hot fury blinded Penelope that she opened her mouth to retort, but then came the sound of a horse mounting before galloping hooves thundered through the trees.
Penelope swallowed her words as the sound faded quickly, engulfed by the forest until silence returned.
For several long moments, Penelope did not move. She remained frozen in the water, listening carefully, waiting for the slightest hint that he might still be nearby. However, there was nothing but the soft lapping of the lake against the shore.
At last, she inhaled a slow breath, then another, and very cautiously, Penelope turned her head and was greeted by the sight of an empty bank.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
There was no stranger. No towering, infuriating man leaning against the rocks, but the quiet trees and the gentle afternoon light filtering through the branches.
Her horse, Eloise, stood exactly where she had left her, reins tied loosely to a low branch and tail flicking lazily at flies.
Penelope stared for a moment, and her gaze shifted towards the hoofprints in the dirt beside the water.
Another horse had been there.
The realization struck her with startling clarity. How carried away had I been? To storm through the forest in such a temper… to undress… to march straight into the lake… Without noticing an entire horse standing nearby.
Heat bloomed across her face again. "Wonderful," she muttered.
Quickly rinsing the last traces of lake water from her skin, Penelope waded toward the shore.
The moment she reached land, the cool breeze brushed against her bare arms, reminding her very quickly of her predicament and she hurried toward her discarded garments.
First came her undergarments, which she slipped into with relief, and then she picked up her dress. But she stopped, staring back at the bodice that looked at her like a silent enemy.
The back laces dangled helplessly and Penelope groaned, recalling the words of the stranger, and the meaning that followed suit. "Of course."
The gown she had worn to Lady Hartwell's ball was one of the more elaborate pieces in her wardrobe, constructed with a fitted bodice that required at least two pairs of hands to fasten properly. Hands she currently did not possess. Normally a maid would secure the laces with efficient ease. Here, however…
"Urgh!"
Penelope twisted her arms behind her back, attempting to reach the strings. The attempt lasted all of twenty seconds. Then thirty. Then a full minute of awkward twisting and tugging, but the laces barely moved.
She exhaled sharply and stomped her foot. "Wonderful," she repeated bitterly.
On ordinary days she visited the lake wearing something far simpler like a light muslin walking dress that could be slipped on without assistance. Today, however, she had come directly from the ball. And now she was stranded in the forest wearing nothing but her undergarments and a half-laced monstrosity.
"There is no possible way I am riding home like this," Returning after dark was equally impossible. The estate would notice her absence long before nightfall. "What should I do?" she muttered helplessly.