Penelope (19 page)

“I saw you
ogling the cake when we passed by earlier. I could hardly fail to
notice it,” he replied, sounding a little embarrassed.

“No, I meant
how did you know where I was?”

“An
acquaintance had delayed me across the street. I saw the boy cut
your purse and then I saw you sprinting after him. I followed you,
but lost sight of you just before you turned into the laneway. I
thought you must have gone straight on, but when after a minute I
found no trace of you, I back tracked and took a chance by turning
into the lane.”

Penelope
nodded. The cake no longer looked appetising, but she did drink the
lemonade.

The duke took
the cup from her, and after making sure that she was not going to
go into shock just yet, he said, “I am just going out to have a
word with the driver. I am just outside. No one will enter. See, I
am leaving the pistol here just so you feel safe. Alright?”

It was not
alright, but Penelope smiled bravely.

He watched her
for a moment and then bent his head to brush his lips against her
once more. And then he was gone.

She sat in a
daze, the duke’s brief kisses extinguishing all other thoughts. She
did not know what to make of them. Was it kindness on his part or
pity? Or was it simply the situation that had compelled him? After
all, she too had lost her head for a moment.

She did not
know how long she sat in the darkened carriage. It could have been
minutes or it could have been hours before the door opened and Anne
and the duke entered.

Seeing Anne’s
concerned expression, things fell into place. The duke had kissed
her to give her something to think about other than that man in the
laneway. He had told her he was just going outside to talk to the
driver when in fact he had gone to fetch his sister from the shop.
He had lied to her to keep her feeling safe and knowing that she
was in no condition to face the street so soon. He had asked the
driver to buy her that slice of cake, and he had left the only
pistol with her.

She hugged Anne
tightly, her eyes on the duke. She did not want to think of him as
kind, considerate or caring. She wished he would do something,
anything, to make her hate him again.

The carriage
halted outside the Blackthorne Mansion.

Anne wriggled
across the leather seat and the uniformed footman helped her
descend from the carriage. A moment later she dived back in and
hissed at Penelope.

“What is it?”
Penelope asked, trying to peer out of the window.

Anne grabbed
Penelope’s head and forced her to duck. “For years Dr Johnson has
been badgering Grandfather to take some fresh air. Well, he has
finally decided to take the good doctor’s advice. He is currently
sitting in the garden, and you will have to walk past him to enter
the house … You cannot walk past him, I will not have it. Stay in
the carriage,” Anne ordered.

“But I am hot,
Lady Radclyff. Besides, we don’t know how long Sir Henry is going
to sit there. What if it is hours before he moves?”

“He won’t stay
long,” Anne insisted.

“How can you
possibly know that? The leather seats are already burning through
my skirts and now my buttock—”

“Oh, alright
then,” she huffed. “I will go engage Grandfather in conversation.
Try and sneak by in five minutes. Oh, and remember to crouch really
low and use the bushes to your advantage.”

Penelope waited
for five minutes or at least what she hoped was five minutes and
snuck out of the carriage. She tiptoed her way to the nearest bush
and hid behind it. She parted the leaves and peeked out. Anne was
standing right in front of Sir Henry and gesturing wildly.

If Penelope
read Sir Henry’s expression correctly, then the old man seemed
rather alarmed by his granddaughter’s enthusiasm. He was bending
his entire form as far back as he possibly could from Lady
Radclyff, and his eyes were darting around the garden
anxiously.

Penelope felt a
twinge of pity for Sir Henry. Lady Radclyff could be remarkably
formidable, she thought, scampering away from the sweet briar and
towards the rose bush.

The rose bush
turned out to be sparse and thorny. It barely hid her from the
view. She nervously glanced at Lady Radclyff, who was now putting
on a fully-fledged one woman show for her grandfather. She seemed
to be acting out a scene where she was a rider atop a horse
wielding a whip. Sir Henry was gripping his chair, his eyes wide
and a forgotten pipe hanging out of his mouth. Penelope dragged her
eyes away from the spectacle and scanned the landscape. She found
that the next decently sized bush was a good distance away from
her. If Sir Henry had to spot her, then it would be now. She
prepared herself for the dash when a hand clamped on her arm.

She found the
duke smiling down at her. He was wearing a moustache.

“I am just
trying to get to the house without being seen by Sir Henry.”

“Let me assist
you, Miss Fairweather,” he replied, yanking her arm and pulling her
away from the bushes and straight onto the path.

“Don’t, he is
going to see me!”

“Exactly what I
intend. Come along now,” he said cheerfully.

“But you
promised your mother.”

“I had promised
not to tell him about you. I am not telling him, I am showing him,”
he said triumphantly.

“Miss
Fairweather,” Sir Henry called across the garden.

Penelope pasted
a smile on her face. She had wanted a reason to hate the duke and
he had provided her with one. She walked across the lawn silently
cursing him.

“You said that
I will have a good mother-in-law. How am I supposed to find one if
you send me off to Finnshire?” Her breath hitched the moment the
words came out of her mouth. What had happened right after he had
said that hung heavy in the air.

He was quiet
for a moment, his eyes avoiding her. When he spoke his tone was
light, “I said you will have a good mother-in-law and you will … in
Finnshire.”

Penelope
grumbled something rude under her breath making the duke
chuckle.

The duke had
left her with no choice. She would have to face Sir Henry. From the
corner of her eye she noticed the dowager racing across the garden
path. Penelope slowed down slightly to allow her time to reach
them. Now all her hopes depended on the dowager’s ability to
convince her father to let her stay on. Clenching her parasol in a
deathly grip, she took a deep breath just before reaching the old
man’s side.

“Sir Henry,”
Penelope said curtsying.

“Miss
Fairweather,” Sir Henry inclined his head.

Anne grabbed
her brother’s arm and dug her nails in hard. “Grandfather informed
me that you absolutely insisted that he sit out here at this very
spot around this time because you had something special to show
him. In a day you managed to do something that Dr Johnson could not
do in fifteen years. What is so special about today, Charles?”

“So I did,” he
replied pleased.

“Yes, what did
you want to show him?” the dowager asked, joining the party.

“This,” the
duke said, gesturing to Penelope.

Sir Henry,
squinting his eyes, looked at the duke and then at Penelope. After
a moment of contemplation, he beamed. “Something special is it, or
should I say someone special? Congratulations, my boy. I think she
is simply delightful. I remember how charming she looked at the
dinner table that day. She wore the appropriate amount of
underskirts, and after only one glass of wine she was foxed,” he
chuckled. “What a wonderfully delicate constitution. True, her
conversational skills are a bit lacking, but who needs a wife to
speak to? At least she understands the importance of marriage. It
is hard to find such a gem … If only I had been sixty years younger
… When is the wedding?”

Aghast, the
duke opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

Anne burst out
laughing.

“I am not
marrying her,” he roared.

“Then why is
she special? You said she was special and you forced me come and
sit in this blasted heat because it was important. Your reasons
better be worth it, boy. Now out with it. What is you wanted to
tell me?”

The duke stared
at his grandfather in horror. He then turned a beseeching eye
towards his mother. She shrugged her shoulders in response. He was
prevented from answering when a coughing fit suddenly overtook Sir
Henry.

They waited and
waited and then waited some more for the fit to come to an end. And
just when Penelope started becoming alarmed, all went quiet. It
looked like Sir Henry had finally breathed his last. The duke
gingerly stuck his finger under his grandfather’s nose to
check.

 Sir Henry
snapped open his eyes and caught the duke’s finger between his
teeth and bit down. Hard.

Sir Henry’s
eyes waited for an answer. If the duke wanted his finger back, then
he would have to come up with something good.

“Alright,
alright, I am thinking about marrying her. I wanted your opinion
but nothing is certain,” the duke babbled.

Sir Henry
released his finger and smiled, “Well, then you have my blessings.
The next time I leave Blackthorne Mansion it will be to attend your
wedding to that girl.”

Thereafter, Sir
Henry, flushed rosy from the sun and whistling a chipper tune, was
carried back indoors.

After a few
moments of uncomfortable silence the dowager spoke, “You are
engaged to be married to Lady Lydia Snowly. Are you now also
engaged to Miss Fairweather?”

“I am not. I
couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. I thought he would
never want to see her in Blackthorne again. How was I to know the
daft man actually liked her? I am convinced Grandfather has gone
over the edge, Mother.”

“No doubt of
that, Charles. But now what will you do?” the dowager asked.

“Make Lydia
wear a long opaque veil during the wedding. After the marriage
Grandfather won’t be able to do much,” Anne suggested.

“I am sure
Grandfather will forget about Miss Fairweather soon enough,” the
duke replied confidently.

“I doubt that.
After all, Miss Fairweather is going to be meeting him at dinner
every day from now on,” Anne said gleefully.

“Fine, the veil
it is,” he snapped, before storming off.

“Well, that’s
that. At least you can join us for dinner now. It is a weight off
my mind,” the dowager said pleased.

Penelope smiled
and nodded. Yet at the back of her mind was the knowledge that the
duke would not give up. Every obstacle in his path was making him
hate her presence in his home more and more. It was only a matter
of time before the duke won. How could Miss Penelope Fairweather
from a tiny village called Finnshire compete with Charles Radclyff,
the Duke of Blackthorne?

***

Later that
evening Penelope and Lady Radclyff stood outside Lady Virginia’s
house staring at an ornate doorknob resembling a lion’s head.

“Do you
remember everything Madame told you yesterday?” Lady Radclyff
asked.

“Yes, Lady
Radclyff,” Penelope replied, swallowing a lump of fear.

“Nothing will
go wrong I hope?”

“I promise on
my honour. No one will even notice my presence.”

“Good, then let
us assume that this is your first social gathering and forget about
whatever happened before.”

“Yes, Lady
Radclyff,” she replied, bravely stepping forward towards the
entrance.

“Miss
Fairweather,” the formidable butler announced.

It was a small
gathering with no more than forty people invited for the dinner
party.

Lady Virginia
hurried over to greet them.

“Miss
Fairweather,” the duke introduced.

Penelope smiled
and dipped in an elegant curtsey.

The hostess
swiftly examined Penelope’s delicate and more importantly expensive
silver gown and the genuine pearls woven through her hair. Her
eyebrow rose in approval.

After a short
but warm welcome, Lady Virginia departed.

“That was well
done,” Anne praised.

“Thank you,”
Penelope replied pleased. She had answered Lady Virginia’s
questions in a demure and controlled manner. She was proud of
herself and was feeling slightly more confident.

Fifteen minutes
later, Penelope and Anne were back in the carriage being driven
back to the Blackthorne Mansion.

“What
happened?” the dowager asked when they reached home.

“Lady
Virginia,” Anne said, “was wearing a beautiful gown. No doubt it
was Madame’s creation.”

“It was a long
wispy thing made of pink lace and chiffon that was gathered and
pinned into place on one shoulder. The rest of the cloth was draped
across the body ending in a long trail at the back that swept the
floor,” Penelope added, her face bright red.

“Yes, but why
are you back home so early?”

“Miss
Fairweather was on her way to the refreshment table,” Anne
said.

“Yes and …?”
the dowager said impatiently.

“Lady Virginia
was also on her way to the refreshment table,” Anne continued.

“Anne,” the
dowager warned.

“Miss
Fairweather stood on Lady Virginia’s trail. The cloth was
delicately fastened by a single pearl brooch on the shoulder. It
ripped, the cloth unravelled, and a passing gentleman quickly
whipped out his coat and wrapped it around Lady Virginia. We could
hardly stay after rendering the hostess almost naked.”

“Quite right,”
the dowager muttered faintly.

The smelling
salts and brandy were quickly called for.

This was
Penelope’s third social outing in London and they were at Lord
Abbey’s home. She sighed in relief. Things up until now had gone
smoothly. She had entered the drawing room, greeted the host, and
then retired to the furthest corner of the room. She now stood next
to a salmon pink marble pillar.