John gazed up the steps outside the Landon townhouse, unable to banish Penelope’s broken expression from his mind. Oh, to be so innocent again. To believe in any sort of magic instead of the bitter truths of the world. Guilt for his behavior gutted him. It had never occurred to him that she might get hurt in this little charade. He’d agreed to the ruse because he’d been curious about Colton’s bizarre request. Of all people, John should have known better than to tangle with matters of the heart. He knew what betrayal was. He never should have left Penelope’s side. He should have stayed and demanded another moment alone with her. He paced a few steps to the left of the stairs, contemplating his options. If he barreled back in, insisting upon an audience with Penelope, it would imply a romantic interest he wasn’t prepared to follow up on. Rules of propriety were strict. If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself at the altar, or at the very least expected to offer for her.
