Penelope (10 page)

He tried to
look non-threatening as he said, “Calm down, I am here to carry you
downstairs for breakfast.”

Penelope slid
further back in her bed and clutched the sheets in a deathly
grip.

The duke
scowled and said, “I don’t want to carry you down any more than you
want to be carried by me, but my mother requested it. I don’t want
to worry her any further.”

“Can’t I eat in
my room?” she asked.

“No”

“Well I don’t
want any breakfast.”

“You were
willing to cook your pet a moment ago.”

“Fine, I don’t
want you to carry me. There, I said it.”

“Did I not tell
you that I do as I please? And right now I choose to please my
mother.”

“You wanted me
to stay away. I am following your command, your grace.”

“I am pleased
that my direction registered in your thick skull. My next command,
as you call it, is to never argue with me.”

She scowled and
then stilled.

He was walking
towards her with a strange smile on his face.

“I shouldn’t
have kissed you.”

Stunned, she
stared at him for a moment.

Penelope’s
breath came faster and her eyes darted to his lips. “You
didn’t.”

“Almost”

He had almost
kissed her? She wondered how she had missed that bit of interesting
information … and he had wanted to kiss her?

She frowned and
said, “Is that an apology?”

He scooped her
up and walked towards the door.

“Is that an
apology?” she asked again, gripping his shirt tightly.

“I never
apologise.”

She stared at
him in confusion. Why had he mentioned the kiss if he hadn’t wanted
to apologise? Perhaps, she mused, the words had slipped out? He did
seem to be regretting telling her now … Her thoughts stopped short
and became entirely muddled when she noticed the warmth of his
hands seeping through her clothes and heating her skin. She was in
his arms, she realised, once again. Her chest constricted and for
some odd reason she started tingling all over.

In an attempt
to distract herself from this disturbing new development, she said,
“You could tell your mother I tried to … about last night I mean.
She will send me packing.”

“Your face is
beet red. Don’t tell me you have never been this close to a man
before. I won’t believe it, just like I know you are shamming that
sprain in your foot. As for telling my mother, she may send you
packing or insist I marry you. If she does insist on marriage, then
extricating myself from you will be slightly more difficult. And
don’t you dare tell her either, or I will personally make sure that
your life is hell.”

He paused, and
then slightly loosened his hold on her, threatening to drop
her.

Her arms shot
out and grabbed his neck. She held on for dear life, her nose
buried in his chest.

“I won’t say a
word,” she quickly promised.

“We will see,”
he said, his arms once more holding her securely as he resumed
walking.

“I do want to
leave. I really do, and you are right, I can’t face the season. I
am not prepared.”

He chuckled,
“So you want to go home, do you? My grandfather will make sure of
that after last night’s debacle, whether you truly want to or
not.”

“Do you have to
doubt my every word?” Penelope asked irritably.

“Are you going
to stand there holding her and arguing or are you going to put her
down?” Lady Radclyff interrupted, watching the couple with a gleam
in her eye.

The duke looked
up, startled to see he was standing in the breakfast room.

***

Two cups of tea
and a slice of toasted bread later, Penelope had stopped feeling
like a giant unwanted giraffe.

The dowager
broke the silence, “Now that we are fortified, Charles, I want you
to stay and discuss this … this predicament. An hour of your time
is not too much to ask for, is it?”

The duke smiled
and said, “Of course not, Mother. I can spare an hour or two, but I
truly think it’s a lost cause. Grandfather will never agree to have
her in the house.”

“Then find a
solution. That is what you do, isn’t it? Solve other people’s
problems. Then apply your mind to this little pickle as well,” Lady
Radclyff said.

“Don’t be
silly, Anne. It’s not the same thing. As a duke, I do have certain
responsibilities, but not of this kind.”

“As a duke you
have to sort out personal as well as financial issues apart from
handling the law and order on your estate. This is no different,”
Lady Radclyff argued.

“Annie, you
know Grandfather as well as I do. He will not agree. Miss
Fairweather will have to go home.”

“You are not
even trying,” Lady Radclyff complained.

For the first
time Penelope felt thankful for the duke’s presence. He, at least,
without meaning to was on her side.

The dowager
frowned thoughtfully, “Charles, I have an idea. It will ensure that
my father is not troubled by Miss Fairweather’s presence, and she
can stay on and have her season.”

“Let’s hear
it,” the duke said sceptically.

“Father only
comes down for dinner. He stays in his rooms otherwise. I propose
that we bend our rules a little and let Miss Fairweather have her
dinner in her room.”

“He will never
know she is here,” Lady Radclyff said, clapping her hands in
glee.

“Impossible,
Mother. How can you even suggest such a thing? The Blackthorne
house has never broken any rules in two centuries. Besides, how can
you even conceive of deceiving your own father?”

“You break a
rule every night by having a candle burning until midnight, and I
have found pastry crumbs on your bed clothes all through your
adolescence,” the dowager replied.

The duke
spluttered.

“And what about
the time you sneaked off to—” Lady Radclyff said.

“Enough,” the
duke cut in.

“As for
deceiving my father, what he doesn’t know cannot hurt him. We will
simply keep silent about her presence, never agreeing or
disagreeing. A few weeks and he would have forgotten what she looks
like. We can then present her all over again and this time without
any mishaps,” the dowager continued, ignoring her son’s flushed
face.

“I refuse to
lie to Grandfather,” the duke said firmly.

“You will stay
silent though. If he asks you directly, then you can confess,” the
dowager pleaded.

“No guest has
ever broken a rule in this house,” the duke shot back.

“You caught
Lady Henley in bed with Lord Stone, and we found Henrietta the
scullery maid with—” Lady Radclyff mumbled under her breath.

“Fine, do as
you please, Mother. I will have no part of it.”

“That’s all I
wanted to hear. And, Charles, one more thing,” the dowager said
smiling.

“What now?”

“You have to
claim the first dance of the season.”

“Eh?”

“Penelope’s
first dance should be with you. It is expected.”

“Mother, I am
not going to dance with this … this …”

“Please,” Lady
Radclyff said pitifully.

“Fine, I will
dance with her. Keep the first for me,” he snapped at Penelope.

Penelope
blinked. This was not how she had imagined her season to begin or
how her dance card would be filled.

“Now, Miss
Fairweather, shall we discuss …” the dowager paused and turned to
address her son. “That’s all, Charles, you may leave.”

The door banged
shut behind him.

“Now that’s
taken care off, Miss Fairweather, lets deal with our other pressing
problem,” the dowager said.

“You want to go
home don’t you?” Lady Radclyff asked.

“Yes, I am
sorry, I think it’s best if I leave …” Penelope said.

“But things
will only get better from now on, my dear. Things like that don’t
happen every day. It was a case of extraordinary circumstances,”
the dowager soothed.

“But I am often
falling into such pickles,” Penelope replied.

“You get
drunk?” Lady Radclyff asked in delight.

“No, but if
something bad has to happen, then I normally end up being in the
middle of it,”

“But why?” Lady
Radclyff asked fascinated.

“I don’t know,”
Penelope replied gloomily.

“Well, nothing
terrible is going to happen from now on. You have us to guide you
in the right direction,” the dowager said firmly.

Penelope was
touched by all that the dowager was willing to do for her. They
were willing to break rules and hide her presence from Sir Henry
Woodville. What she couldn’t understand was why. She had only
caused chaos since stepping into London.

The dowager
searched Penelope’s face and understood her apprehensions. She
pulled out her knitting and with her hands busy, said, “You have
met my father, Sir Henry Woodville, and you saw how strict he is?
His views on women … Well, I am not going to tell you a long story
on how he became that way. In short, he has always been a miserable
old fool,”

Lady Radclyff
giggled.

The dowager’s
tone turned sombre as she continued, “My mother became ill one
winter while we were staying at our country house. Father thought
it best to send me off to the nearest ladies academy while she
recovered. He couldn’t be bothered with a snivelling little girl. I
stayed at the academy for five years and returned home only after
mother’s death. I had been painfully shy during those initial days
at school. A cheeky young girl called Grace found me crying one
day. She consoled and befriended me. We were complete opposites. I
was a miserable, silent child, while she was life, laughter and
joy. She pulled me out of my shell and taught me how to live. For
the first time in my life I sat in the sun without caring about my
complexion, broke rules and felt thrilled instead of fearful. We
teased and fought with each other. We laughed, sang and danced. I
learnt to have fun. It was a happy carefree time and I cherish
those memories. I am grateful to her …”

The dowager
paused to wipe her eyes. “A few years later I received a letter
from Grace. We often wrote to each other. She was cheerful and
happy in her letter telling me how pleased she was that she was
soon going to be a mother. She asked me for advice, since I had
already given birth to Charles. She did not tell me that she was
ill or suffering. The only hint I had that things were not well was
from the last line in her letter. She asked me to take care of her
baby’s future if anything happened to her. I immediately wrote back
promising to take care of her child. My status and word as a
duchess and our long standing friendship allayed her fears. Or at
least I hope it did, as that was the last letter I received from
her. She died giving birth to a beautiful baby girl called
Penelope.”

The only sound
in the room was of the three women softly crying.

Penelope went
and hugged the dowager. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“I have a more
selfish reason for helping you,” Lady Radclyff announced after
wiping her eyes. “You may find this hard to believe, but I actually
like you. The season is a bore, but with you around, I am sure
things are going to get a lot more exciting.”

Penelope choked
out a laugh and then sobered, “I don’t want to embarrass you. I am
grateful for your kindness, but I am afraid I am not ready for the
season. I understand your reasons for helping me, your grace, but
…”

“That is where
we come in. We have a week and by the end of it you will be worthy
of being a king’s bride. Trust us,” the dowager coaxed.

Penelope was
conflicted. On the one hand she wondered if it was possible for her
to learn the nuances of polite society in so short a time. She
doubted it. She also wondered if it wasn’t better to return to
Finnshire than make a fool of herself and embarrass the Radclyff
family in front of the ton.

On the other
hand she knew that if she married well, she could help her sisters,
her father and herself. Besides, the dowager’s words had made her
feel less like an unwanted burden, and she wanted to help the
dowager honour her promise. Perhaps if she applied herself she may
just manage to attract a man.

A vision of her
own haggard face in a grey uniform and a spinster’s cap running
after someone else’s brats flashed through her mind. She shivered.
This was it, a crossroad where a happy home was within her grasp,
and on the other side lay years of loneliness and misery

She eyed the
two elegant women in front of her. She could not ask for better
teachers than the dowager and Lady Radclyff, and if she refused
this offer, then she would forever wonder. What if?

“I am willing
to try,” Penelope said, her heart racing in excitement.

“Then let’s not
waste time and prepare you for the first ball of the season, Miss
Fairweather,” Lady Radclyff said, leaping of her chair.

Penelope smiled
weakly and nodded in agreement.

The duke had
been thwarted in his attempt to send Miss Fairweather packing, but
the war was not over yet. He was back on his feet with a plan and
he knew he had to act fast because if that rural pest got a whiff
of what he planned, then she would waste no time in finding a way
out. He smiled; if a slight tilting of his lips could be deemed a
smile. With great deference, he led an elderly gentleman towards
the Blue Room.

“Charles, what
brings you here? I have never seen you out of your study at his
hour,” Lady Radclyff said, eyeing her brother suspiciously.

“I am simply
here to do my duty as a good host. I was pained to see Miss
Fairweather suffering due to that sprain in her ankle. We cannot
have her uncomfortable, now can we? Therefore, I have brought a
remedy,” he announced, looking rather smug at the ingeniousness
solution to all his problems. He moved aside to let an old man
through.