“Nun, wenn sie einen Ehemann bekommen will, muß sie ein wenig abnehmen. Männer mögen keine beleibten Frauen.”
Translation. Well, if she wants to find a husband, she needs to lose some weight. Men don’t like portly women.
She moved away, walking toward the bar. It looked like she would need something stronger.
“Hän on ruumiinrakenteeltaan äitinsä kaltainen.”
Translation. She’s built like her mother, that one is.
“Ainakin Diana muistuttaa meidän sukuhaaraamme.”
Translation. At least Diana took after our side of the family.
Embarrassment flashed through her system. Two elderly women sat, hats perched on their silvery heads, drinking tea and gossiping about the people around them.
Gossiping about her.
Did anyone remember she spoke several different languages? Including the Finnish her father’s cousins were speaking now. She had a good mind to walk right up to them and tell them off in Finnish.
She turned away, catching sight of her sister and brother-in-law dancing together, smiles on their faces. George was standing next to his impossibly gorgeous boyfriend.
When she’d been a child, they’d called her a changeling. Diana and George were tall and statuesque. Penny had been short and could never get a handle on her weight. Her blonde hair kinked and never laid sleek and beautiful the way Diana’s did.
“The poor girl couldn’t even find a date.”
She didn’t need to translate that. It was spoken with a perfect British accent. Apparently her relatives didn’t think she could hear either.
She took a long drink and decided to head out. She smiled at the waiter who took her glass, but refused another. She didn’t have to stand there and take it. There was plenty to do at home. No one would miss her.
“Hello, Pen.”
She turned and Peter was standing there, looking at her, his blandly handsome face smiling down.
“Hello, Peter.”
He was dressed in a suit that was slightly too big for his lanky frame. There was not an ounce of muscle on Peter Bolling. Now that she really looked at him, he resembled a baby bird, his face soft and round, his body long and ridiculously lean.
She’d slept with him. She probably weighed more than him.
She was practically petite compared to Damon Knight.
His thin lips curled up in a semi smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” Polite. That was what she needed to be. She would be polite and he would go away.
Why on earth was he even here? She glanced around and realized the answer to her question. Beatrice wasn’t paying attention to her bridegroom. She was leaning in, whispering to her sister and pointing at Penny.
Bitch. She’d set up the meeting.
Penny had absolutely no idea why her cousin hated her, but Bea had worked hard to make her life as much of a living hell as possible. From childhood, the woman had teased and bullied her about everything from her weight, to the way she dressed, to her lack of a boyfriend.
So she gave Peter a brilliant smile. Well, she hoped it was. “You look good.”
If Bea thought she was going to break down, she was wrong. She had to be strong. She was going into the field soon. She couldn’t be some girl who cried the minute she saw her ex.
Now that she was standing here looking at him, she had to wonder why she’d ever cried over him. He’d been her fiancé, her only lover, and she hadn’t really thought about him in over a year.
He smoothed down the lapels of his suit. “Yes, well, I have been working out, you see. I’ve been promoted. And I suppose you heard about me and Susana.”
Susana Henderson? Her cousin? “No. I hadn’t heard anything.”
He flushed a bit. “Oh. I thought someone would tell you and all. Uhm. Susana and I are seeing each other.”
“We’re doing a bit more than seeing each other,” a saccharine-sweet voice said. Susana was tall, her blonde hair stick-straight and lush. She was always perfectly made up and dressed as though she’d walked off a fashion runway. “We’re getting married.”
She showed off a magnificent ring, at least two carats.
When they’d been engaged, he’d claimed she didn’t need a ring. He’d convinced her they should save their money in order to purchase a flat of their own.
She felt her face heat as she realized everyone was looking at her, whispering behind their hands. George was making his way toward them, a worried look on his face.
“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Susana said in a way that let Penny know she wasn’t sorry at all. “No one wanted to tell you. Everyone feels sorry for you because they know you can’t keep a man yourself, but I’m sick of not being able to celebrate. I’m not going to let you ruin my happy time.”
“Susana! Peter.” Bea made her way over, a sly smile on her face. “Oh, let me see that ring.”
Everyone knew Peter hadn’t bought a ring for her. That’s what they would all be talking about now. Poor Penny. She didn’t even warrant a ring from her fiancé.
“I’ll let you get on with it, then.” Penny took a step back, desperately wanting to get out of the situation.
Her heel slid on the marble floor, and before she could catch herself, she landed on her bum, her dress bunching around her knees.
Tears filled her eyes. Everyone was looking at her. She was a thirty-two-year-old woman, but in that moment she was back to being the awkward girl who watched as the world passed her by.
“Pen?” Her brother was suddenly at her side. “What the hell happened?”
Humiliation threatened to overtake her, but she tried to put a stupid smile on her face. “I just slipped. I might have rolled my ankle a bit.”
George got down to one knee. “Don’t move. Let Harry take a look at your ankle.”
Harry, George’s incredibly handsome boyfriend, was also a doctor. He dropped down beside her, pressing past the now burgeoning crowd. “Let me just check, Penny. It looks perfectly fine, but tell me if anything hurts.”
“Good god, who the hell is that?” George asked, his eyes wide. “Harry, you know I love you, but I’m afraid I’ve just seen an actual Greek god.”
Penny looked up as the crowd began to part, everyone looking to the new guy.
Damon Knight’s suit fit him perfectly, as though it had been custom made to fit his massive, muscled body. The dark suit contrasted with the pristinely white dress shirt and blue silk of his tie. Dark haired, with deep gray eyes, he didn’t walk into the ballroom. He strode in like a lazy panther looking about for his supper.
“That’s not a Greek god,” Harry said with a smile. “That’s sex on two legs, mate. If you can manage to sleep with that, I’ll high-five you. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s looking for a boy.”
Damon turned, his every movement graceful and masculine. His eyes searched the crowd, not paying a bit of attention to the stir he was causing. He ignored the women who sent him looks, brushed past the waiters. He was on the hunt. Damon Knight was looking for someone. He was looking for her.
His eyes flared when he finally found his prey, and she would have sworn she saw anger there. She was fairly certain it wasn’t directed toward her, but a nervous thrill flared up as he stalked across the ballroom.
“Hello, darling.” He reached out a hand. “Had I known you were going to be treated like this, I would have gotten here sooner.”
She was almost afraid to take that hand, but something about the deep quality of his voice had her moving before she could properly think it over. “I slipped.”
“Really?” George asked, getting to his feet. He stared Peter’s way. “It’s interesting that you tripped just as this arsehole shows up.”