Page 19

“ I finished the book you gave me,” Odette announced excitedly.

Penelope had gone into Odette’s chambers just before it was time for her to sleep, and was in the process of brushing her hair to prepare her for bed.

“You are a fast reader,” Penelope complimented. “I only gave you the book a few days ago.”

“Well, it was a good one,” Odette laughed. “I like your recommendations. Will you give me another one?”

“Of course I will,” Penelope nodded. “I’ll have one picked out for you, and ready by the morning.”

Odette clapped her hands together in excitement. It was endearing seeing her like this.

“You have very pretty hair,” Penelope added after a moment.

“It’s always all over the place,” Odette made a noise halfway between a scoff and a huff, though her cheeks turned slightly pink.

“That’s what accessories are for,” Penelope said, “and ribbons. Perhaps you need to start liking them.”

Odette made a gagging noise, “Can we hold off on the ribbons for now? I am still getting used to wearing dresses more often.”

Penelope could not help but laugh. “As you wish, but in time, you’ll find that ribbons and dresses are a part of being a young lady. And you’ll grow to like them.”

Odette huffed again, but Penelope knew that her defenses were slowly breaking down. She was not as resistant as she had been at the start, and that was progress well made.

“Would you like to try this one?” Penelope held up a small silver pin.

“You wore that to the ball,” Odette’s eyes widened.

“I did,” Penelope confirmed. “My sister gave this to me when I was around your age.”

“I liked watching you get ready that day,” Odette admitted suddenly, looking away so she didn’t have to see Penelope’s reaction. “You looked really pretty, like a painting.”

Penelope blinked, touched by the admission.

“You flatter me. But if you’d like,” she said, putting the pin in and smoothing down Odette’s shoulders with a fond smile, “I can teach you.”

“You would?” Odette turned her head a little too quickly.

“Of course,” Penelope said. “We can pick a dress, do your hair.”

Odette’s shoulders tensed immediately, and she shifted in her seat.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, her tone guarded again. “It’s not really my thing.”

Penelope didn’t press. Instead, she ran her fingers gently through Odette’s hair one last time, as if smoothing down the doubt, too.

“That’s perfectly all right,” she said. “But I think you’d enjoy it more than you think. We can make it our own version. No corsets or ribbons you don’t like.”

Odette hesitated. “What would we even do?”

“Well,” Penelope smiled. “We’d start with picking a dress. Then we’ll fix your hair, maybe try a bit of powder. Nothing serious.”

“I don’t want to end up looking like one of those glass dolls.”

Penelope laughed. “We won’t go that far.”

Odette looked at her in the mirror. For a moment, it seemed like she might reject the idea again. But then, with a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. But only because I’m curious.”

“Of course,” Penelope grinned, “And because I agreed to skip ribbons.”

“And only if I get to pick the dress.”

“Deal,” Penelope said, sealing it with a nod. “But I have one condition of my own.”

“What now?”

“You must agree to a piano lesson with me,” Penelope said hesitantly. Alexander had told her that Odette was not fond of those.

“Nooo. That’s so boring!” The young girl scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“You haven’t even tried it yet.”

“I don’t have to try it. I already know it’s boring. It sounds boring. Just… clink-clonk, clink-clonk, forever.”

Penelope laughed under her breath. “That’s an absolutely dreadful impersonation of a piano. It deserves better.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t deserve me.”

“Well, too bad,” Penelope said, “It’s part of the bargain. No piano, no lessons on dressing up.”

“Fine,” Odette said through gritted teeth.

“Accepted.”

As the hour grew late, Penelope tucked a final pin into the young girl’s hair and stood. “Time for bed.”

Penelope gathered her shawl and stepped quietly into the corridor, the soft click of the door closing behind her. She moved down the hallway, and just as she rounded the corner near the main staircase, she nearly collided into a broad chest.

“Your Grace,” she gasped, startled. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” Alexander looked at her, just as surprised. “You’re just now leaving her room?”

Penelope nodded.

“You’re aware it’s nearly midnight?” he said.

“She will be asleep,” Penelope said, lifting her chin slightly. “Eventually.”

“She has lessons in the morning,” Alexander argued.

“Your Grace, I doubt one extra hour will ruin her academic prospects,” she defended herself. “It’s important for her to have these moments.”

“These moments can be had at a better hour,” he rolled his eyes.

“And for what it’s worth,” she added casually, “I got her to agree to pianoforte lessons.”

That got his attention.

“Impossible. She hates the pianoforte.”

“She said she hated it,” Penelope corrected. “But tonight, she agreed to try. All it took was a little compromise.”

“She’s never compromised with anyone before,” he said slowly.

“That’s what happens when you convince someone, rather than command them,” Penelope replied lightly, folding her hands before her.

Alexander was quiet for a moment, and then, to her surprise, he gave a small nod. “You’re doing a good job with her.”

“Well, I’m trying as best I can,” Penelope blushed. It was always such a surprise whenever he complimented her. “And actually I was thinking, she’s not the only one in need of lessons, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m just saying—you spend an awful lot of time around men,” she giggled, stepping past him just slightly. “Might do you some good to have a little more...feminine influence.”

“Aren’t you enough for that?”

“Well, I certainly try,” she nodded. “But I think you need some more insights into the female mind.”

“And what would these so-called lessons entail?” he asked, folding his arms.

“Women,” she said, pausing for effect, “are sensitive creatures. We are nuanced. Multifaceted. And men?—”

“Careful,” Alexander warned.

“Men often lack the skill to understand us properly.”

“Are you suggesting I lack skill?” he stepped closer to her.

“I’m suggesting that your skillset may be one-sided.”

Alexander arched a brow. “One-sided?”

“You know everything there is to know about business, power, and intimidation,” she replied, not backing down even as he towered over her. “But when it comes to women, well, you seem to think that protection and silence are the same thing as understanding.”

“And what would you know about what I understand?”

“I know that you keep everyone at arm’s length,” she pointed out. “Especially me.”

That made him pause for a moment. His eyes scanned her face.

“So you think teaching me to braid hair and talk about feelings will solve that?” he said eventually, his tone dry.

“No,” she said with a little laugh. “Though the image of you braiding Odette’s hair is now stuck in my mind, so thank you for that.”

He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement.

“All I’m saying,” she continued, “is that a little effort wouldn’t kill you. Try listening more. Asking instead of deciding. There’s more to being close to someone than staying in the same house.”

“You want me to be softer?”

“I want you to be aware,” Penelope said carefully.

“I see,” he said slowly, “And this is what you call the feminine touch?”

“It’s what I call being human,” she corrected. “But yes, perhaps women are better at it. Because we’re taught to care, to listen, to consider how others feel before we act.”

“So what does that make me? A brute who only knows how to bark orders?” Alexander’s tone turned defensive.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“I implied that you might benefit from seeing things the way we do. That there’s more strength in tenderness than you allow yourself to believe,” she sighed.

“Well, forgive me, but tenderness is not something that I have ever really desired to emulate,” he said.

“If tenderness is not the right word here,” Penelope racked through her brain, “then perhaps introspection would be a better fit.”

“I introspect,” he said defensively.

“When?” she asked, laughing lightly.

“I am strategic,” he continued. “If you speak to anyone, you will know–”

“Ah. Strategy,” she interrupted him. “The man’s solution to everything.”

“It is a solution because it works,” he reminded her. “I do not expect you to know that, considering you lack the experience.”

Penelope let his snide remark slip aside.

“When it comes to those who we are closest to, strategy is not the best way forward,” she explained. “You can’t out-maneuver feelings, Your Grace. They’re not contracts or chess pieces.”

Alexnader pinched the top of his nose. Penelope could not quite tell whether he was irked, or amused by the whole thing.

“Now you are suggesting that I am unfeeling,” he said, stiffly. “I really wonder where you get these notions from. Perhaps your understanding of what it takes to be a man is just as lacking.”

“Perhaps so,” she conceded. “But you cannot deny that you keep your feelings close to only yourself. I’m not sure even you know what they are half the time.”

“And what would you have me do?” he asked. “Tell you every passing thought I have? Lay them bare like a fool?”

“No,” she said, stepping a little closer now. “But perhaps start by telling the truth when it matters. And asking questions when you don’t know the answer. It’s not a weakness.”

He looked down at her for a long moment. “You want trust.”

“I want honesty,” she corrected softly. “You’re not unfeeling, Your Grace. I know that. I just think you’ve forgotten how to show it. Or maybe you never learned.”

“It takes me a lot to trust someone,” he admitted after a moment of rumination.

“Do you trust me?” The question was bold, and Penelope was scared of the answer.

“I suppose I trust you enough to look after Odette,” he admitted with a sigh. “That is saying a lot.”