Penelope (25 page)

“How bad is the
state of the house?”

Theodore
trembled at the duke’s tone, “Most of the wood has rotted and the
ceiling is hanging dangerously low. The walls have cracks in them.
We can’t do much about it except burn the remains and build a new
house from scratch. Don’t worry, sir. I have another property in
mind for Mrs Green’s son …”

The duke
circled a number on the ledger. He handed the book to Theodore and
said calmly, “This is not adding up. I will leave you to finish the
rest of the work here. I have some business to see to. Handle
anything urgent.”

“Yes, your
grace,” he replied, his face wrinkling in confusion.

The duke’s
black shoes clicked down the hallway towards the morning room. He
had last seen Penelope at Lord Henley’s dinner party last night.
This morning she had not come down for breakfast. Everyone had
assumed that she had been tired from all the late nights and had
decided to sleep in late.

“Mother, have
you seen Miss Fairweather? Anne?”

“Charles, we
were just coming to you. She has not been in her room since early
this morning. Her maid was worried and just informed us of her
absence. I hope she did not go out for a walk and is now caught in
this dreadful storm somewhere. It’s been hours, Charles …,” Anne
said worriedly.

“She is a
country girl. I am sure she will be fine. Nevertheless, I will try
and find her. She must have taken shelter nearby and is waiting for
the weather to settle. Calm down, Annie. Mother, I will be back
soon.”

The duke had
spoken soothingly. His heart, though, was pounding. The moment he
closed the door of the morning room, he started running. He stopped
long enough to scan the contents of a map lying in his study.
Thereafter, he made his way out of Blackthorne Mansion and into the
raging storm.

Outside the
world looked more like late evening than mid-morning. Black clouds
engulfed the sun, while the wind snapped branches of trees, ripping
the delicate vines apart. The rain cascaded down like a broken
faucet and the flowers bowed under the onslaught. The earth had
turned muddy, slippery and dangerous.

The duke ran
most of the way, heedless to the wind and rain stinging his face.
When he reached the Desmond house, he found the door was hanging
off one hinge and the wild wind was swinging it madly.

He caught it
and held it, his heart in his mouth. All he could see was darkness,
and the tinder box lying in his pocket was soaking wet.

“Penelope,” he
roared, trying to shout over the raging tempest.

He called her
again and again, his ears straining to hear the sound of her
voice.

“Here,” a soft
call came from the back of the house.

He faltered,
becoming quiet. He wondered if he had imagined it. He stepped
deeper into the house.

The smell of
rain and wind had washed away the stench. A beam had collapsed in
one corner. A soft grey light coming from the broken roof
illuminated parts of the house.

He carefully
made his way over the rotting wood and furniture. Another whisper
of sound reached him and he paused, his breath caught.

“I am
here.”

Hope surged in
his chest. It was Penelope’s voice.

“I am coming.
Where are you,” he shouted.

“Behind the
beam. I can’t get out.”

A large beam
had fallen diagonally across a door in the corner. A small part of
the door at the very top had rotted away leaving a small gap. He
stood on his toes and peered through the gap.

She was huddled
in one corner wearing a dress too big for her; a maid’s dress he
guessed. She was clutching a filthy rag in her small hands, and her
hair and face were smeared with dirt. An empty bucket and a broom
rested against the wall. His heart clenched at the sight.

He started
talking softly while his hands worked at lifting away the broken
beam.

“An unpleasant
day to take a walk.”

“I woke early.
It was fine this morning …,” she said, through chattering
teeth.

“When did you
leave the house?”

“Five.”

“You should
have taken your maid along.”

“You told me to
clean this house alone and with no help. How could I take Mary? I
wanted to finish cleaning. You said if I cleaned you would let me
stay … I was cleaning … Then it started storming and the beam fell.
I can’t clean anymore … The wood is too heavy ….” She fell
silent.

The duke cursed
softly. It was past eleven. She had been trapped for hours not
knowing if she would come out of this alive.

“We will be
home soon.”

“I don’t have a
home. I did not clean … I lost ….”

He stood up,
trying to lift the beam. He caught sight of her face … It was
frozen in shock. He wanted her to scream, shout and throw things at
him. He wanted her to behave like the Penelope he knew. Her voice
was so detached … The beam moved under his hands. He lifted it up
and moved it aside.

“Penelope?” he
said softly, pushing open the door.

She rose to her
feet unsteadily and looked at the duke.

He held open
his arms and the rag fell from her hand.

She took a
hesitant step, her eyes locked on his. She took another step, this
time more confidently, and then suddenly she was sprinting towards
him.

She paused when
they were close enough to kiss.

He smiled
encouragingly.

And that was
when she punched him in the stomach.

He was relieved
rather than hurt. The fire was back in Penelope’s eyes. He lifted
his hand, trying to reach out to her.

She backed
away, choosing to go deeper into the dangerous house rather than
have him touch her again.

She spoke
rapidly through chattering teeth, “You tried to murder me.”

“Don’t be
ridiculous ….”

She spoke over
him, “I had hours to think. The Desmond house is your property. You
had to know what state the house was in. How could you not? You
sent me here knowing that I may be killed. The house was falling
apart even before the storm set in. Did you hope to find my dead
body? Are you disappointed to see me alive?”

“You are being
dramatic. Calm down and listen to me for one moment.”

“No,” Penelope
cried. “I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say anymore.
You have disliked me from the moment you set eyes on me. Your pride
was hurt when I refused to leave, so you planned to kill me.”

“You are
mistaken.”

She held up her
hand. Her entire body trembled with rage.

“I don’t
understand you, not your kindness or your hatred. I don’t
understand why someone as insignificant as me disturbs your
pretentious world. But I do know that I choose life. I would rather
live with Lord Weevil, who makes my skin crawl, and a stepmother
who hates the sight of my face than die in self-pity. I value my
life over and above petty London politics, carriages, jewels and
titles. I want to live, your grace. Live till I am old, grey and
withered. You have won the wager, Duke of Blackthorne. You have got
what you always wanted. I am leaving,” she finished quietly.

“Penelope
…”

“Miss
Fairweather,” she corrected coldly, moving towards the
entrance.

“Miss
Fairweather, let me explain …,” he said, grabbing her arm

She shook her
head refusing to listen to him. Wrenching her hand free, she
covered her ears and ran out of the house.

He watched her
disappear into the storm outside. Her steps were sure and her head
was held high. She had not shed a single tear.

He slammed his
hand on the door, his eyes closing in remorse. She had not lost, he
knew, but won. He stood for a long time staring with unseeing eyes
as the Desmond house fell apart around him.

Penelope flung
open her travelling case. Next, she pulled out her bag of stockings
from the wardrobe and started sorting through them. She refused
take a single item of clothing that the duke had paid for. She had
brought along two stockings, both black and laddered. It should be
easy enough to find.

“Miss
Fairweather.”

She whirled
around and found the duke standing at the entrance soaking wet. He
had not changed but had come straight to her bedchamber.

She backed up
until her shoulders hit the wardrobe.

“I am not here
to murder you,” he said irritably, walking to the other end of the
room. “Go and stand near the door. If I launch an attack, you will
be able to get away.”

“Are you going
to attack?”

“No, but I do
request that you hear me out.”

She didn’t
reply. Instead, she moved to the wardrobe and started pulling out
the dresses.

“I came here to
explain ….”

“Explain? You
should be apologising … Oh, but the great Duke of Blackthorne never
apologises, of course,” she said, her lips curling bitterly.

“Will you keep
quiet until you hear what I have to say? Thereafter, you can go
back to accusing me.”

Penelope’s eyes
flew to his. He was looking sheepish.

“This is
difficult for me. A little embarrassing and I don’t know how to say
this,” the duke said hesitatingly.

Penelope
crossed her arms over her chest. Her packing forgotten, she pinned
her eyes on him. This was getting interesting.

“I am
listening,” she said.

“You are? Well,
don’t you want to continue packing while I speak?”

“No, I want
look right at you.”

“Fine, the
thing is that … Well, it is just that it is a bit unseemly talking
about it to a lady. But then you are not exactly a l—”

Penelope made a
growling noise.

 The duke
rushed on, “When I was seventeen, I fell in love with this girl
Emily. She was a year older than me, and she told me that she loved
me as well. She also told me that she was pregnant with my child.
Shortly after that … I caught her in bed with my footman.”

“Was it Walrus
that you caught her with?”

“Walrus?”

“Bagley, the
footman.”

“Oh no, it was
his cousin. Do you know about this?” he asked, eyeing her
suspiciously.

“No, it was a
guess. Anyhow, you got cuckolded and your heart was broken.
Thereafter, you started to hate all women. The poor duke was
cheated in love and he decided to never fall in love again. Am I
right?”

“Not exactly.
Well, you see, I fell in love again at twenty two. And this time
Elizabeth told me that she was pregnant with my child. Shortly
after that I caught her in bed with the head gardener.”

“Lovell? But he
is eighty.”

“No. Her head
gardener.”

“Right, so you
were cuckolded twice. A lot of people are cheated in their lives,
but that is not a good enough reason to distrust all women—”

“When I was
twenty five,” the duke continued. “Elizabeth informed that she was
carrying my child. I then caught her in bed with my carriage
driver.”

“Same Elizabeth
whom you caught with the head gardener?”

“No, this was a
different Elizabeth. When I was twenty six, I caught—”

“Stop,”
Penelope ordered. “I think I get where you are going with this. You
were cuckolded a number of times. I am now starting to understand
why you no longer want to fall in love.”

“Every time I
fell in love, the girl in question betrayed me,” he said
gloomily.

“I never
thought I would feel sorry for you,” she mused. Then after a bit of
thought, she asked, “But why did they betray you and that too so
many women. And how many women were there?”

“The number
doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact that the ones I only liked
but did not love stayed true to me. But if I fell in love, the
women ended up in bed with someone else. It was a bit of a mystery
and I asked Lor … I mean, Madame Bellafraunde about it.”

“When did you
ask her?”

“The day I
caught you in your corset and bloomers. She met me after your
lesson to explain things. One thing led to another, and soon I was
confessing my dilemma and she seemed like the right person to talk
to. After all, she is the mistress who trains the ladies of the ton
in matters of love and deceit.”

“Oh, I remember
now. It was the day I shot the ceiling.”

“You did what?
You shot the ceiling? I want to ….” He paused and took a deep
breath. After a moment, he continued more calmly, “Never mind about
that now. Where was I? Oh yes, Madame. She said that the reason the
women were forced to betray me was because I took too long in
asking them to marry me. They had to come up with a plan to trap
me. They were not getting any younger, and I am a brilliant catch.
She also said that I was in lust not love every single time. She
tried an experiment with me where she told me to imagine being
married to one of the women that I thought I had loved.”

“Then what
happened?”

“I broke out in
a cold sweat, my ears turned hot, my neck became itchy, and my
entire form started trembling in dread. It happens every time I
think of shackling myself to a woman for the rest of my life.
Madame said that when I do fall in love, the thought of losing the
girl I love should break me out in a cold sweat, and not the
thought of spending the rest of my life with her. Which is why I
decided to look at marriage as a business alliance rather than a
love match. It makes things easier. And I need an heir.”

“Your grace,
when you were younger, did you fall in love every time you
sneezed?”

“It was more
like a seasonal flu.”

“This is all
very heart-breaking, but why are you telling me all this?”

“This is the
first reason why I wanted you out of the house. Now you can
appreciate why I am a little wary of women, especially the ones
that try and seduce me. And you did try to warm my bed that first
night. I was convinced that you would do something devious to trap
me into marriage. You were desperate and Emily, Elizabeth, Lilly,
and the whole lot of them had been just as desperate to marry. I
was frightened.”