Page 23

“ O h, Your Grace,” Nancy gasped, clucking her tongue as she unfastened the buttons down the back of Penelope’s sodden gown. “You look like you fell into the pond.”

Penelope winced as the cold fabric peeled away from her skin.

“Not quite fell, I was pulled in.”

“Pulled, Your Grace?” Nancy’s eyes widened.

“Firmly. With intent,” Penelope amended with a blush. She still had not quite gotten over what had happened earlier.

Nancy’s brows shot up. Penelope sat down before the maid could ask more questions, toweling off her arms.

“Begging your pardon, but you’re flushed.”

“It was cold,” Penelope blinked.

“And you’re smiling.”

“I am not,” she replied too quickly.

Nancy gave her a look. “Were you with His Grace when this happened?”

“Yes,” Penelope replied, feeling her cheeks warm again.

“That explains it,” Nancy smiled. “It is good to see you both enjoying yourself, though I cannot say much about the fate of your dress. I’ll try soaking it, but I make no promises that I can get the stains out.”

“Enjoying ourselves?” Penelope snorted. It had been an argument.

Well, at least it had started off as one.

She thought back to how Alexander had looked at her in that moment, when they were both soaked and breathless and close enough to kiss.

She shivered again, though it had little to do with the cold.

Nancy laid a fresh robe over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch a chill if you don’t warm up soon, Your Grace.”

“Yes,” Penelope said faintly, wrapping it around herself. “I imagine I will.”

“Shall I prepare a bath?” Nancy knelt to unlace her muddy boots.

“Please,” Penelope nodded, then paused. “A hot one.”

As Nancy left the room, Penelope stood and moved to the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed.

He had apologized. More than that, he’d said she and Odette were his family.

Penelope sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, her heart still fluttering.

Just as Penelope gathered the robe tighter around her and reached for a towel to wrap her damp hair, the door opened again.

It was Odette.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked immediately, eyes flicking between Penelope and the pile of wet clothes Nancy had left behind.

“No, darling. You’re not in trouble,” Penelope said, laughing at the mess.

Odette stepped a little farther into the room. “And what happened to you?”

“I fell into a puddle,” she admitted, laughing again. “And so did your father. You were lucky to get out when you did.”

“I wish I’d seen that,” Odette said, giggling now as well. “You and Father both soaked and scowling.”

“I think you would have enjoyed the scene, yes,” Penelope smiled. “And don’t worry, I took all the blame. Told him it was entirely my idea.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Penelope shrugged lightly, still drying her hair with the towel. “Well, someone had to. And between the two of us, I’m the one who should’ve known better. Now hop along, I will handle this mess.”

Odette gave Penelope one last look before walking out of the room again.

“You’re getting slower,” Alexander said, tossing his gloves to the side as Oliver flopped down on the leather bench beside the ring.

“I’m getting older,” Oliver grunted, rubbing at his ribs. “Or maybe you’re just in a mood and taking it out on me.”

Alexander had decided to meet up with Oliver for a quick sparring session. After the week he had, he needed a healthy way to release the tension.

Alexander reached for a towel, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. “You left yourself open. Again. How many times have I told you not to do that?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come at me like a darned freight carriage,” Oliver muttered, then grinned. “What’s going on with you? Where is all this pent up energy coming from?”

Alexander said nothing, toweling off in silence. With Oliver, he knew that the less he said was better.

Oliver narrowed his eyes, not letting go of the topic.

“If I did not know any better, I would suspect that it has something to do with your marriage,” he grinned shamelessly. “Tell me then. I’m all ears, and most eager to know.”

Alexander cast him a sidelong glance.

“My marriage is fine, thank you,” Alexander retorted. “You do not need to worry.”

“Then why are you all riled up in the ring?” Oliver grinned. “You’re not telling me something, and I know it.”

“Why are you so eager to know more about my marriage?” Alexander asked, shooting his friend a look.

“Well, I don’t have a missus of my own,” Oliver laughed. “So I might as well live vicariously through you.”

“Please don’t,” Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Come on. At least give me something.”

“It’s been… manageable,” Alexander settled on the words carefully. Though he thought back to the other day, how the both of them had been pulled into the puddle.

It was ridiculous. But a part of him enjoyed it, even though he would never admit it out loud.

“Manageable,” Oliver repeated, mimicking the tone with a smirk. “That’s the most affectionate word I’ve ever heard you use.”

“Don't push your luck.”

“Oh, I’m serious. If you start saying things like pleasant or god forbid, admit that you’re happy, I’ll assume you’ve been replaced by an imposter.”

Alexander snorted, standing to stretch his arms.

“Stop dodging the question,” Oliver shot back. “How is it, really?”

Alexander took his time answering. He folded the towel neatly and laid it on the bench. “The house feels… different now that she has moved in.”

“Different is good. But what do you mean exactly?” Oliver raised a brow.

“Less quiet,” Alexander said. Then, after a pause, “In a good way, I suppose.”

“Hm.”

“She and Odette get along. Recently, she convinced her to take pianoforte lessons, which I have been trying to unsuccessfully do for years.”

“The Duchess is better at your job than you are,” Oliver teased.

Alexander’s lips twitched slightly.

“Penelope has a way of… navigating her moods. I am not sure myself how she does it,” he admitted. “The only thing is that she is trying to give her too much freedom, which I don’t think is wise.”

“Odette is a young girl. What does too much freedom even look like?” Oliver laughed. “I doubt the Duchess is taking her out to pubs.”

Alexander shot him a glare.

“Not that kind of freedom. I meant more in the sense,” Alexander paused for a moment. “Penelope wants her to have more freedom of movement. But I think it’s a stupid demand. The estate is big enough to do whatever they might need.”

“I’d be careful with that,” Oliver shrugged. “The more restrictions you put on Odette, the more rebellious she is going to learn to become. There’s always a balance with these things.”

“You say that like you have children of your own,” Alexander replied.

“No but I’ve had to grow up with four younger siblings,” Oliver replied. “I think you don’t understand these things because you had no siblings of your own. Every kid is different, and you have to deal with them differently.”

Alexander shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, that is Penelope’s thing to solve now. She’s quite patient so I think she’ll find the balance.”

“You have a lot of faith in her,” Oliver teased.

“I do have faith in her management abilities, yes. She keeps the staff on their toes,” Alexander replied. “Rearranged half the drawing room last week because she decided the light was better on the other side.”

“And you let her?”

“It’s her home now, too.”

Oliver tried and failed to suppress his grin.

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like a reasonable man for the first time in your life.”

“I am reasonable,” Alexander scoffed.

“Since when?”

“Since always,” Alexander stressed. “Besides, I’ve come to realize that she’s not like the others.”

Oliver’s brows rose.

“The others ? Walford, I didn’t realize there were others .”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Oliver said, laughing. “I’m just happy that you’re finally coming around to talk more about it.”

Alexander got up from the bench and began to make his way towards the door.

“I think I would have sang a different tune if she wasn’t so good with Odette,” he admitted. “It really helps that she is.”

“That matters to you a lot,” Oliver noted.

“Of course it does.”

He wanted to say that it was the only thing that mattered. But he realized that would not be the truth. In reality, he also enjoyed spending time with her as well.

“You know, you sound different now,” Oliver mused.

Alexander scoffed.

“Let me explain, at least,” Oliver said. “You sound like a man who’s… what’s the word.. content. Like you finally have someone to share a burden with. A life partner, if you will. Marriage looks good on you.”

Alexander gave him a look.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Fine, fine.” Oliver held up his hands in surrender. “But I’d like to meet her. I need to see this miracle woman for myself.”

“Only on one condition,” Alexander’s expression was dry. “You’ll behave.”

“I always behave.”

Alexander snorted.

“Tell me one thing, do you like her?”

Alexander’s jaw shifted slightly as he considered the question. “She’s easy to be around.”

“That’s not a no. Now. The next question. Do you love her?”

“You are getting ahead of yourself again,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll reel back then,” Oliver said as he followed him toward the door. “But first, you’re inviting me to dinner.”

Alexander and Oliver had barely stepped into the front hall when the sound of raised voices caught their attention. A sharp crash rang out, glass breaking, followed by a low grunt.

Alexander froze for only a second. Then he was running towards the source of the noise.

Oliver was right behind him. Inside, two footmen were trying to separate Lewis from a red-faced man who was swinging wildly. The man appeared quite drunk.

Lewis had taken a blow to the jaw but was still standing, blocking the man from getting any farther into the club.

“Who is that?” Alexander muttered to Oliver.

“I’ve seen him around before,” Oliver replied, “I think he’s some minor noble man, though his exact name escapes me at this time.”

“I said I just need another blasted hour!” the man shouted, trying to shove past Lewis again. “You can’t keep me out, this place is built on men like me. You need me more than I need you.”

Lewis made no move to retaliate, just held his ground.

“You were asked to leave. You’re not welcome tonight.”

“Let me handle this,” Alexander sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He stepped forward without hesitation. “That’s enough. I think you, gentleman, need to leave my establishment.”

The man turned, his eyes narrowing as he realized who had spoken.

“Easy for you to say, Your Grace,” The man sneered. “You’ve got more coin than you know what to do with.”

“Lewis, see him out, please.”

At that, the man lunged forward at Alexander, though his swing was wild and untrained. In his defense, Alexander stepped into him cleanly and caught his wrist mid-air, twisting just enough to send him off balance.

The man staggered and reached for the duke’s coat with his free hand. Alexander’s grip shifted and he slammed the man’s shoulder against the doorway, keeping him upright only long enough to shove him backward into the arms of the approaching staff.

“Get him out,” Alexander ordered again, curtly.

Lewis, wiping the corner of his mouth, gave a sharp nod and assisted the footmen in hauling the man toward the entrance. The door slammed shut behind them a moment later.

Alexander exhaled, adjusting the sleeve of his coat, only then registering a faint ache in his wrist. It felt like a sprain.

“Are you all right?” Oliver asked, already stepping closer, “Confound it . That was something, wasn’t it?”

“I’m fine,” Alexander replied, flexing his fingers once, then again. The discomfort was mild, but very much so present.

“I am not sure I believe you,” Oliver gave him a look. “You’re not fine. You’re doing that thing where you pretend you’re not in pain.”

“It’s nothing. A strain, maybe. I’ve had worse from fencing,” Alexander rolled his wrist slowly, testing it.

“Still,” Oliver said, watching him. “You should wrap it.”

“I will. Later.”

“You won’t,” Oliver muttered. “You’ll go home, and act like nothing happened. I hope to God that your Duchess notices, because you really do not know how to take care of yourself.”

“She won’t notice,” Alexander gave him a withering look. “Nor do I think I need to bother her with something so small.”

“It’s always small when it comes to you,” Oliver shook his head. “You know, I’m glad that you have a wife to return to. I can bet that she will notice your discomfort.”

“What a strange thing to bet on,” Alexander murmured, though the pain grew sharper. He winced slightly.

“Oh, I have bet on worse,” Oliver grinned. “Why don’t you place one with me? If she notices, then I owe you land in the countryside. If she doesn’t…”

“Then nothing,” Alexander said, sharply. “I don’t place bets.”

“Fine, then nothing. But my end of the bargain still stands,” Oliver said. “She’s observant, from what you have told me about her.”

Alexander said nothing, but his expression flickered. He flexed his wrist again, slower this time. The ache had settled a bit, and he was sure that it was still manageable.

But even if it wasn’t, Alexander would deal with that. It was not the worst of his injuries and certainly not the last one.

“Take care of yourself,” Oliver patted his friend on the back as he saw him out the door. Fergus was waiting by the carriage.

“You need it more than I do,” Alexander replied, sarcastically.

It was just a strain. Nothing to worry about, and definitely not something that Penelope should bother herself over.

But as the carriage left, he found himself wondering if Oliver would be proven correct.

Would Penelope notice? Suddenly, he felt like he had stakes in the matter. It was a dangerous thing to hope, but the seed had been planted, all without him even intending it .