Penelope (34 page)

“Jimmy, will I
ever see you again?” she asked, setting the mirror down.

“Now don’t get
all teary-eyed,” Jimmy said sniffing and wiping his eyes.

“I hate
goodbyes,” Penelope said, a large tear trickling down her
cheek.

“Then let us
not say it,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Penelope
offered a watery smile, and with a last wave and a swish of the
cloak, Jimmy left her alone.

***

Penelope,
bundled in the purple quilt, followed a flushed young lad towards
the back of the inn. The bellboy refused to look her in the eye all
through the walk up the kitchen stairs. The moment they reached
their room, he scurried away.

“Your grace,
that bell boy thought I was a loose skirt,” Penelope exclaimed as
soon as she entered the room.

“I had to let
him think that. I did not want anyone to discover that we were
travelling alone without a chaperone. I was thinking of your
reputation.”

Penelope
hmmphed.

“Besides, you
look ridiculous.”

“My hair is
tamed.”

He blinked and
eyed her from crown to toe.

“A vast
improvement,” he said softly.

Penelope
blushed. She avoided his eyes and glanced around the room.

Whoever had
decorated the room must have loathed the owner. The colours were
hideous, the furniture appalling and dusty. But that didn’t bother
her. What did bother her was the queen size bed in the corner.

“Come here,” he
said.

 Her eyes
flew to his, and she stepped back until her shoulders hit the
door.

The duke
sighed, “When will you stop backing away every time you see me? I
have breakfast here. I want you to come and eat quickly. We only
have half an hour.”

“We did not
have to stop, not on my account,” Penelope huffed, making no move
to join him.

“I needed to
change horses … Now, will you eat something?”

She gingerly
made her way towards the duke, her eyes wary.

“I am not going
to kiss you, Penelope.”

By now her
cheeks were the colour of ripe tomatoes, but she believed him. She
walked more confidently and took her place next to him.

She finished
scraping the last morsel off her plate when she caught the duke
eyeing her strangely.

She followed
his line of sight and looked down at herself. The quilt had slipped
off her shoulders revealing her thin, pale peach silk nightdress.
The plate fell from her hands with a clatter.

The duke turned
his face away, a hint of red creeping up his neck.

A moment of
uncomfortable silence later, he eyed her once again.

Her lashes
fluttered. She had not managed to cover herself up.

“I said, I
won’t kiss you,” he said, standing up.

“Yes, it would
be a terrible idea,” she replied, standing up as well.

The quilt lay
forgotten on the chair.

He moved
towards her. She met him half way.

“It would be a
terrible idea.”

Penelope nodded
half-heartedly. “Terrible, terrible idea.”

“Why?” the duke
asked, cupping the back of her head.

“Why what?” she
asked dazedly.

“Why is it a
bad idea to kiss? To kiss is good thing …”

“Kissing is
good,” she said, nodding eagerly, “very, very good.”

“Then we
shouldn’t be bad.”

“No, we should
not …”

He didn’t wait
for her to finish. He pecked her.

After all that
intense eye contact, she had been expecting a proper kiss. She
frowned. What the duke had given her was a platonic, dutiful, and
an indifferent little kiss. The sort of peck the duke would give a
dry, boring old grandmother. And now the blasted man was stepping …
Penelope didn’t let him pull away. She caught the back of his head
and pecked him back, her lips lingering a touch longer.

He frowned and
pecked her again.

She gave a
little stamp with her foot, grabbed his head and glued her lips to
his refusing to let go.

He smiled
against her lips and kissed her, not a peck this time but an
achingly soft, sweet kiss.

She laughed and
wriggled closer.

He made a funny
little sound at the back of his throat and tugged her chin.

Her lips
parted, his tongue delved in and the room spun.

Her hands
tightened on his shoulders. And the next moment the two were
wrapped in a passionate duel, the gentleness, laughter, and dusty
little inn forgotten … until an imaginary Lady Snowly caught hold
of Penelope’s ear and pulled her away from the duke.

He reluctantly
let her go, his eyes questioning.

“Lady Snowly
…,” she whispered.

“… is not
here,” he finished huskily.

And then they
jumped right back into each other’s arms and continued where they
had left off.

A moment later
a knock at the door had them flying apart. A maid had arrived with
a fresh pot of coffee and a whole lot of awkwardness. The
awkwardness did not die with her departure.

“Wrap yourself
up,” he said, sounding as if he was in pain.

When her
fumbling fingers refused to work, he roughly pulled the cloth
around her, taking care to touch her skin as little as
possible.

They were both
breathing heavily by the time he finished.

“I am going
down to the carriage. I want you to follow in a few minutes. Make
sure no one sees you. Hide your face,” the duke said, avoiding her
eyes.

Penelope
squeaked something incomprehensible in reply to his departing
back.

A few minutes
later, Penelope poked her head out of the door and found curious
beady eyes squinting at her from the room directly opposite.

They eyed each
other, each acknowledging that something unseemly was going on. The
woman blinked first, breaking the spell.

She smiled and
Penelope fled.

“Someone saw
me,” Penelope gasped, as soon as the carriage door was closed.

“Who?”

“She was oddly
familiar… She looked like a mongoose, with a long body and a small
head …’”

“Lady Plasket,”
the duke said, cursing under his breath.

Penelope paled,
“The same Lady Plasket whose dinner we …?”

“Yes,” he said
shortly.

“But she
doesn’t know that you were in the room as well,” she said
hopefully.

“On the
contrary, I saw an eye peering at me from behind the door. I didn’t
know whose eye it was until you described her. I thought it must be
some dubious fellow concerned about his own privacy. Lady Plasket
must have had an eye stuck to the door, especially after she saw me
leave the room. The woman is a gossip. This is going to be all over
the ton tomorrow.”

“I am doomed?”
Penelope asked, in a small voice.

“Anne had
stopped at this inn. I have sent a man to investigate. We should be
able to apprehend them soon,” the duke said, ignoring her
question.

“I am doomed,”
Penelope announced to the green curtains. “I hope we find Anne
quickly. I need to make a plan.”

“Plan?”

“Yes, I will
have to count my pennies and book myself on the next boat to
Ireland. No man in England is going to marry me after this,” she
said unhappily.

“We will see,”
the duke said, his eyes busy scanning the road.

A grubby child
of ten rapped on the window three times. The duke left the carriage
to talk to his informer.

The duke
returned and almost immediately the carriage started moving.

“They are going
to stop at Lord Rivers’ hunting cabin. It is not very far … They
must have been afraid that I may catch up with them, which is why
they barely stopped at The Golden Pass. They packed their breakfast
and are planning to dine there. It is pure luck that I came by the
information,” the duke told her.

After that,
silence reigned in the carriage, with Penelope dwelling on the kiss
and her dwindling future prospects. Soon her eyes became heavy and
she nodded off, only waking when the carriage came to a halt.

“This is it?”
Penelope asked, her voice husky with exhaustion.

The duke pulled
out a box from underneath the seat. A sparkling sliver gun answered
her question.

The duke
stepped out of the carriage and Penelope followed. He seemed to
have forgotten her presence, his eyes intent on searching the
landscape.

A large hunting
cabin sat in the middle of fat trees. The wild landscape blended in
with the wooden exterior of the cabin. It was a pretty picture.

They made their
way towards the entrance when loud shouts stopped them in their
tracks. The voices had sounded familiar. After a moment of cocking
their ears to ascertain where the noise was coming from, the two of
them raced towards the back of the building.

Penelope and
the duke halted in their tracks, stunned by the vision before
them.

The giant
cabbages growing in the vegetable patch were remarkable, but what
was more remarkable was the fact that Lord Rivers and Lord Poyning
were embroiled in a fight. It was not gentlemen fencing, nor was it
a manly duel involving pistols. No, it was good old fashioned
fisticuffs. They were going at it like enraged school boys, using
hands and legs, and when it warranted, teeth.

Anne, the once
graceful Lady Radclyff, was cheering from the sidelines. She was
jumping up and down shouting encouragement and at times offering
helpful tips. Interestingly, her kind support was all for Lord
Rivers.

“Kick him
between the legs, Rivers … That’s it. Now, punch, punch, punch the
blasted man,” Anne screeched.

Penelope did
not know what to make of it. The duke, too, was looking a tad
lost.

A moment later,
Penelope could take it no more. Taking a deep breath, she hollered,
“Rivers, for goodness’ sakes, listen to Anne. Bend your knee … Now
whack him on the head.”

The duke wanted
to let Lord Rivers continue beating up Lord Poyning, but his mother
would be worried. They needed to get back to her.

Reluctantly he
roared, “Enough!”

Except for
Penelope, no one ever dared to ignore that tone. Neither did Lord
Poyning nor Lord Rivers. They let go of each other, eyes wary like
two stray dogs meeting for the first time.

“Explain,” the
duke said quietly.

Anne slinked
towards her brother. Penelope imagined a tail between her legs.

“I was eloping
with Lord Poyning,” Anne said shamefacedly.

“I gathered as
much. Why were you screeching like a fisherwoman is my question. I
noticed your loyalties have switched. You wanted your intended to
be trounced soundly. Any reason?” the duke asked
matter-of-factly.

“Yes, that was
before I knew …”Anne stopped, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Can we sit
somewhere and talk about this?” Penelope asked, her hands stroking
Anne’s hair.

The duke
hesitated for a moment, but at Anne’s pleading look, he nodded. He
then ordered the two young lords to stay put until he returned.

The duke
refused to enter the hunting lodge. Instead, they made their way
back to the carriage. Once inside, Anne broke down into convulsive
sobs. Penelope soothed her as best as she could.

“He is horrid,
Penny, horrid,” Anne hiccupped, “Lord Rivers arrived just in time
and told me everything. I did not believe him at first, but he
showed me the letters. I had to believe that. I know his hand.”

“Hush, Annie,
tell me from the beginning,” Penelope soothed.

Anne
straightened and dashed a hand across her streaming eyes.

“That day when
I fell off the orange tree … he … he caught me,” her voice became
stronger as she spoke, anger replacing misery, “I thought our plan
had not worked until he pressed a letter into my palm before
leaving. He begged me to meet him at Kitty May’s ball. I met him
and he confessed that he had loved me for two years. I was so
happy. I thought he felt exactly as I had done all this time. He
said that he been frightened of Charles, but he would have pressed
his suit had I given him the slightest encouragement. He was
flirting with you, Penny, to make me jealous and see if I react
favourably.”

“Did you plan
to run away that day?” Penelope asked.

“Yes. He told
me that Charles would never agree to our marriage. He asked me to
elope with him. After that argument with my brother where he made
it clear that he would never accept Lord Poyning, I knew I had no
choice. If I wanted to marry him, then I would have to elope.
Thereafter, Lord Poyning sent me a note with the plan. I was to get
into the carriage parked outside the Blackthorne Mansion at four in
the morning. I did not know that you had tied that string to alert
you if I left.”

“What did Lord
Rivers tell you?” the duke asked gently.

“We reached the
lodge and found Lord Rivers waiting for us. They had a huge fight,
each hurling accusations at the other. Then Lord Rivers tried to
tell me not to trust Lord Poyning. I wouldn’t listen to him, not
until he showed me the letters.” Anne felt silent.

“What letters?”
Penelope prompted.

Anne fidgeted
with the tassels on her shawl, refusing to say anymore.

“Can I guess,
Annie? I think I know …” the duke said softly.

“How?” Anne
asked shocked.

“Did Lady
Plasket see you at The Golden Pass?” the duke asked instead of
answering her.

“Charles, are
you a magician? She was going up to her room when she saw us
ordering breakfast. I ignored her. I thought I would be married so
it did not matter,” Anne spoke in awe.

“I need to do
something. I will be right back,” the duke said shortly. He refused
to say anything more and left the carriage.

“Anne, what
letters?” Penelope asked again.

“I couldn’t
tell you in front of, Charles, but now that he is gone, it will be
easier. Quickly then let me recount what Lord Rivers told me. He
showed me the letters that Poyning had written to Lydia. Lord
Poyning is in love with Lydia Snowly.”