Page 11

Odette appeared in the doorway, attempting very hard to appear as though she hadn’t spent the last half hour debating whether to come . Without a word, she took a seat directly across from Penelope.

Penelope shot the butler , who looked on with great surprise, a satisfied smirk.

“I’m glad you’re here. Good morning, Odette.”

“Well,” she said, already impatient, “I’m here now. I did what you asked. So where is it?”

“A good morning from your side would have sufficed, as well.”

“You said there would be a book,” Odette narrowed her eyes.

“I did,” Penelope replied, folding her napkin neatly in her lap. “And there will be. But first, I thought we might greet the morning like civilized people. Perhaps with tea. What do you think?”

“You promised me a book,” Odette slumped in her chair.

“Yes,” Penelope said calmly. “And I shall fulfil that promise. But if you are going to spend time with me, you might as well learn the first rule of any proper lady’s life.”

“Which is?”

“Patience,” Penelope smirked. Somehow, she knew that the word was foreign to the young girl. No one had ever made her wait before. No wonder she was behaving so poorly.

“That’s boring,” Odette stifled a yawn.

“Necessary,” Penelope corrected. “In romance, in society, and especially at the breakfast table.”

“Besides,” Penelope went on, sipping her tea, “what kind of heroine demands her reward before the first course? That’s not how it works in your novels, you know.”

“I thought this breakfast wasn’t about talking,” Odette muttered .

“It wasn’t ,” Penelope said, smiling into her cup. “But I changed my mind.”

“I should have guessed you’d be vexing in the morning,” Odette glared at her.

“Manners, my dear,” Penelope reminded her gently. “You have to at least pretend like you are happy to be here.”

Odette did not say anything. Instead, she dug straight into her breakfast. They ate in near-peace for a few moments, save for the occasional sigh from the young girl.

Finally, Penelope leaned back, deciding to end her turmoil. “You’ve been very patient.”

Odette rolled her eyes at the acknowledgment.

“So much in fact that I will let that little eyeroll slip,” Penelope asserted. “Patience is always rewarded, and so… ”

She reached to her side and pulled the book into view. Odette’s eyes immediately dropped to it, and despite her best efforts to remain aloof, her entire expression shifted. She brightened with joy at the sight and reached out to grab it.

“ A Secret Vow ,” Penelope announced. “It was the first romance novel I ever read that truly made my heart flutter.”

“What’s it about?” Odette grabbed the book eagerly, already sifting through its pages.

“A viscount who makes a vow never to fall in love, of course. And then promptly falls in love with a woman he shouldn’t.”

“That sounds predictable,” Odette snorted, unimpressed.

“Of course it is,” Penelope grinned. “That’s the best part. You know what’s going to happen, but it still manages to surprise you. The writing is terrific, you will see. There’s a scene in the garden that….”

Thump.

A sudden nudge struck her shin beneath the table.

Penelope jolted slightly, blinking down in surprise. Another swift tap.

Her eyes snapped up to Odette, who was staring very pointedly at her teacup, face perfectly blank. Penelope wondered what had gotten into her suddenly until she realized that they had company.

Alexander took a seat at the table moments later.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said, though even he seemed surprised that his daughter had shown up this morning.

“Your Grace.”

Odette, on the other hand, had gone completely still. “Good morning, Father.”

“I trust breakfast has been enjoyable?”

“Very,” Penelope replied with exaggerated brightness. “Odette and I were just having a conversation about…”

Another kick underneath the table.

Penelope’s mouth clamped shut mid-sentence. It dawned on her that Odette did not wish for her interests to be discussed in front of Alexander.

“About?” Alexander waited for Penelope to finish her sentence.

“Nothing of consequence,” Penelope covered quickly, “we were only discussing what she has been learning with her tutors.”

If Alexander was suspicious, he did not press further.

“I should go,” Odette announced suddenly, pushing back her chair with a soft scrape. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“But you haven’t finished your?—”

“I’m not very hungry.”

She stood, clutching the book tightly to her chest and scurried off without another word.

Penelope looked across the table at the empty seat, then up at Alexander, who was watching the door Odette had just exited through.

“She was in good spirits before you arrived,” Penelope murmured, unable to help herself.

“You’ve been talking with her,” he noted, turning his gaze to her now. “She doesn’t usually talk during breakfast. Or at all, really.”

“I suppose she finds my company tolerable,” Penelope answered, diplomatically. She did not wish to give too much away.

“You’ve made more progress than most,” he noted, “That was well done.”

Penelope blinked, taken entirely off-guard. It was not so much what he said that startled her, but how he said it. For the first time, there seemed to be no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

She could hardly remember the last time someone had acknowledged her efforts, least of all him.

“Thank you,” she muttered. It was the best she could do while she tried to keep the color from rising to her cheeks.

“No need to mention it,” he was watching her closely now. Penelope hated how transparent she was being at that moment.

His eyes hadn’t moved from her since the words had left his mouth. Was he… enjoying her discomfort?

She reached for her teacup again, just to have something to do with her hands.

“I suppose progress should be acknowledged. Even if it is the bare minimum.”

He shook his head, “You are underestimating yourself there. It is a miracle that she even showed up to breakfast, let alone spoke with you.”

“Oh, I’m quite familiar with miracles,” she bluffed. “You have not seen anything yet.”

Alexander watched her, transfixed. She wondered if she had finally discovered the key to getting his approval. The thought alone sent a small shiver down her spine.

She was only half-joking, but he didn’t know that. At least, she hoped he didn’t. He didn’t need to know how much effort it had taken her to win even a sliver of Odette’s trust.

“Careful, Your Grace. If you keep staring at me like that, I’ll begin to suspect you’re impressed,” she said to break the tension, for he had not stopped looking in her direction.

“Would that be so unthinkable?” he said, not taking his eyes off her. Stubbornness, it seemed, ran in the family.

“I… well,” she faltered, then recovered with a sniff. “It would be suspicious, certainly.”

“I am finding that you are full of surprises,” he commented. “I’m only trying to determine whether that’s a good thing.”

“I’ll save you the trouble, it is a wonderful thing,” Penelope rolled her eyes, mostly to distract herself from how very warm her cheeks felt.

“And I am meant to take your word for that?”

“You ought to,” Penelope looked away, annoyed at how easily flustered she was in his presence. “Actually, there are some things I would like to discuss with you regarding the estate.”

Alexander noticed the abrupt change of topic, and for a moment, Penelope wondered if he was going to call her out on it. But to her relief, he nodded.

“Go on, then.”

“There are repairs needed in the west wing, and the paths near the orchard have been left completely wild. I thought we might clear them,” she said quickly.

Talking about impersonal things was exactly what was needed here, she thought. It was a bit too close to comfort otherwise.

“And you are asking me because?” he said, sounding bored.

“I thought that it should be brought to your attention.”

He dismissed her with a subtle flick of his wrist. “There is no need for that. You are the Duchess now. Asking for permission for things like this is not necessary.”

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly. His response was so unlike the controlling image she had of him in her mind.

“You’re serious?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Do I strike you as the sort to jest?”

“Forgive me for being surprised,” she defended herself. “But you were the one who handed me a list of rules the day I came into this house. It is not entirely ridiculous that I thought I would need to get these things approved from you.”

Alexander shook his head, “Different things.”

Different things, Penelope thought to herself. But conveniently, only he seemed to know the distinction.

“But in case you are still unclear,” he continued. “Let me remind you once and for all. You are the duchess, and you are free to do whatever it is that you wish with the estate.”

Penelope looked up, blinking once. The words struck her with far more impact than she was prepared for. You’re the Duchess.

The blush that she had been trying hard to control now surged up to her ears. Her mind scrambled to form a response, though none came.

“Right. Of course. Well then, I should… go… do… Duchess things,” she stood up, abruptly.

“Duchess things?” he repeated, clearly amused.

“Yes,” she asserted with more force than required. “I am quite busy today, actually.”

In earnest, she did not have much to do. But she did not wish to give him that impression. That was when an idea occurred to her.

“Before I forget,” she turned to face him again, “I’m planning a small picnic. Just something for Odette. I thought it might be nice… for her to see us all together. If you’re free.”

“A picnic?”

“Yes, a small one in the garden only,” she said, the plan taking shape as she spoke.

“You’ll come ?” she asked.

Alexander took a moment to respond, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest each second that she waited for his answer.

“Very well, then. I shall see you there.”

“Excellent,” she said, as evenly as she could manage. “It’ll be nothing elaborate—just some sandwiches, a few sweet things, perhaps a lemonade or two. Simple.”

“I have no great objections to sandwiches,” Alexander replied, his mouth twitching into something dangerously close to a smile.

Was that a joke? Penelope tilted her head, half-amused.

“You’re in a strange mood this morning.”

“Strange?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re almost... pleasant.”

“I am glad you think so highly of me,” he muttered sarcastically .

“Oh, I’ve not even begun,” she replied. She was still not used to this side of him—this version of Alexander that teased and watched her a moment too long. It made it difficult to remember that this marriage was supposed to be one of convenience.

Not curiosity. Certainly not... whatever this was. She took a careful sip of her tea to steady herself.

“When were you thinking of having this picnic?” Alexander asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps?” she suggested. “If the weather holds.”

He gave a brief nod. “That can be arranged.”

Penelope blinked. “You mean, you’ll truly come?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” His tone was matter-of-fact. Penelope, however, could hardly picture him there.

“Well,” she said, “I’m glad.”

As she turned to leave the breakfast room, she paused near the threshold. “Thank you,” she said, without quite turning to face him.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come. It means more to Odette than she’ll likely ever admit.”

“I suspect it means more to you, too.”

Penelope did not have a straight response to that. She could only blush, because he was right. Perhaps it did mean something to her.