Page 8 of His Wild Duchess (Fate & Circumstance #2)

CHAPTER 8

A few days had passed since Lady Tollock’s ball. Penelope’s spirits had been high since then, feeling incredibly proud of herself for being the one to solve one of the Duke’s weighty problems. Not often did it end up that way, with Penelope not being the one to have caused the troublein the first place. She’d take anything, and it was a good win.

In an even better turn of events, the Duke rushed them off early that morning to take a trip out into the country. Eagerly, Penelope dressed for travel, making sure that her two foxhounds, Priory and Pat, were ready for a day out of the townhouse. They were hunting breeds, ones that thrived with some time out in open fields and plenty of room. Not only that, but out of the entire pack Penelope kept, the pair were the easiest to fit in a simple carriage.

“Did you really need to bring them along?” the Duke asked about half an hour into their trip, though he didn’t seem to truly mind them much. Priory, the elder of the pair, rested her head against the Duke’s knee, her eyes shut as she snoozed. He scratched the top of her head pleasantly. “Won’t they run at the first chance?”

“You think they’d run from their source of food and care?”

The Duke shrugged. “You said they were strays. What’s to keep them from straying again?” He gazed down at Priory. “Where did you find these ones?”

“I didn’t, actually.”

“Really?”

Penelope scooted closer to Pat instinctively, letting the younger foxhound lay across the side of the carriage and rest her head onto her lap. Penelope ran her hands through her short fur as she spoke. “Most people didn’t know it, but my father was quite the lover of animals.”

“Well, you had to get it from somewhere.”

“My mother would love to disagree with you,” she said with a laugh. “He enjoyed hunting, and hiking. When the days were hard, he normally spent time out there to clear his head. Sometimes, for hours on end.”

The Duke listened quietly, his hand running over Priory’s head absentmindedly.

“One evening, he came back inside for dinner, and went upstairs to wash up. Everyone else was already waiting for him,” she explained, “and no one quite noticed till much later that there were two sets of muddy pawprints following up the stairs behind him.”

He chuckled. “Sounds familiar to me.”

“When he arrived for dinner,” Penelope said, “He introduced two new members of the family.”

“So, they belonged to him?”

“They were one of the last marks he made upon this world.”

The Duke sighed, his eyes holding onto her. “Perhaps the dogs would enjoy time out in the country.”

“I believe they would, your Grace.”

“We are alone, you know.”

Penelope glanced at the dogs. “Don’t hurt their feelings.”

“We are the only English speaking beings in this vicinity,” he stated, giving her an annoyed look. “Why do you feel the need to use such proper titles?”

She frowned. “It is what I was taught. I wouldn’t say I feel the need for it.”

“Then don’t use them.”

Penelope watched him curiously. “Why does it bother you so much?”

He huffed. “I never said it bothered me.”

“Oh,” she drawled, “Now you act as if your pride is wounded. It’s a simple question, your Grace.”

Leaning forward, the Duke snapped his fingers at her. “Said it again! How about this,” he leaned back in his seat after disturbing Priory’s deep sleep, “Call me by my name, and I’ll answer your question.”

Penelope tilted her head. “Fine. I’m rather curious, now.”

“You first.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Me first what?”

“I’ll only answer if you say it.”

“That’s rather childish of you, you know.”

The Duke grinned. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, darling.”

Penelope yanked her head away, staring down at the way Pat breathed against her legs. Trying to ignore the heat that swarmed to her face, she replied, “Doesn’t change the fact of the matter.”

He leaned forward again, one brow raised expectantly.

“George.”

“Now,” he mused, looking rather proud of himself, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“And you were just about to answer my question.”

George frowned. “We’ll revisit it on the way home, when I’ve had enough time to…ruminate.”

“And by ruminate,” she snapped, “You mean come up with a lie.”

“You offend me, darling.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Want to have a go at using my name next?”

After he let out a sharp laugh, George looked back at her amusingly. “For heaven’s sake, I wish you could understand what a shame it is that you were born in London.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“With the greatest respect, you would’ve flourished in the New World. I’m sure of it.”

Penelope lowered her head to watch the dogs, trying to hide the smile that crept across her lips. “You’re quite the talker, George. Don’t think I forgot my question.”

George sighed, the amusement only lingering across his face. “There wasn’t a moment in my life that I thought I’d wear the title of Duke of Yeats.”

“Really?”

“Not that I was a fool who believed my father to be an immortal man,” he quickly said. “But rather, I never stopped to picture myself within his shoes, and thus thought it to be impossible.”

Penelope tilted her head at him, entirely intrigued by his character, but not wanting to pry too deep. “So being called ‘your Grace’...”

“Feels like you aren’t speaking to me,” he finished, warm eyes falling upon her in an instant. “Penelope.”

Her breath stilled as he held her stare. It was an oddly heavy moment, suddenly, one that Penelope found herself scrambling to recover from. She pulled her gaze away, swallowing down the unsteady anxiety that threatened to rise out of her. When she glanced back at him, there was a small frown twitching at the side of his lip.

Penelope cleared her throat. “I don’t think you’ve told me where we are headed.”

“I was able to locate a cottage that resides an hour and a half outside of London,” he explained, pulling back the curtain to glance out the window. “I can’t tell you if it has all the amenities you require, so I thought we could take a look ourselves.”

Penelope watched him closely. “Thank you, your -,” she whispered.

He raised a finger. “Ahem?”

“Thank you, George.”

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

He frowned. “Like you’re not quite sure if I’m sincere or not.”

“I confess that I am not,?” Penelope mumbled, leaning back in her seat, embarrassed. “I meant no disrespect, but you must understand what sort of enigma you are, in comparison to the rest of the Ton’s gentlemen.”

George sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re about to say I’m not as much of an Englishman as the rest.”

“Gracious, no,” she replied. “But you are…kind.”

He raised a brow. “Kind?”

“Do not take me for a fool,” Penelope quickly said. “I know you only follow through on the deal we made together. I don’t think men of the Ton would think to take me to the cottage.”

“Ah, so you’re saying that American men are outright better than English men?”

She sighed irritably. “No, that’s not what I said at all.”

“Relax, darling, I only tease,” he said coolly. “It is a mighty fine compliment, thank you.”

“Don’t expect it again anytime soon.”

George grinned, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t dare,” he murmured.

Penelope watched as he fell asleep, his hand resting over Priory’s narrow head. It was infuriating, how it all seemed to bother her so. George had a curious way of getting beneath her skin, and making his presence very known. A part of her bristled at the idea of spending so much time alongside an aristocratic man, a rebellious one or not. Another piece of Penelope yearned to linger beside him, to remain in that moment, where he was relaxed enough to sleep, one of her beloved pets resting alongside him.

It all felt rather too good to be true, and it brought a sense of hesitancy to her. What happened when it was ripped away? When the ineveitable catastrophe managed to appear and ruin all her bright prospects for an independent future?

Penelope remained wide awake on the journey to the cottage, her mind racing too swiftly to ignore.

The road leading up to the cottage grew bumpy rather quickly. It was apparent that not many travelers came that way, leaving the path to be one that wasn’t quite kind to carriages from London. Nevertheless, the driver pushed on, and the pair of foxhounds within the compartment restlessly fidgeted around, eager to get out of the cramped conditions they were forced in.

Penelope held her feet up, letting the dogs roam while staying out their way. George seemed resistantto that idea, keeping his legs stretched and toppling the dogs. Eventually, when the atmosphere within grew almost painful, the carriage rolled to a sudden stop.

Scooting past the dogs, George reached for the door, and pushed it open. The dogs leapt out without a moment to lose, pulling a laugh out of Penelope.

“Those - !” George started, looking back at her relaxed expression. “Aren’t you going to call them back?”

“I wouldn’t worry. They’ll come back.”

George scoffed, waving an impatient hand at her before climbing out the carriage. Once he was out, he stuck his hand in to help her out. Annoyed at his own attitude, Penelope pushed his hand away, and stepped out on her own. Immediately, a wash of warm spring air rolled over her, the smells of wildflowers and dewy grass filling her mindwith nostalgia.

“Don’t you just love it?” she asked, face raised to the sun.

“Love what?”

Penelope extended her arms out to either side of her. “This,” she murmured. “All of this. The trees, the breeze, the sky, the sun. The heat. It is magnificent, isn’t it?”

George pulled off his overcoat, tossing it into the carriage before snapping the door shut, wading through the overgrown grass. Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he gestured towards the small cottage that was a few yards down. “Truthfully, I might be able to do without it.”

“Isn’t it hot in the New World?”

“Sure,” he replied. “And cold. And full of storms that rock the earth and shape mountains.”

“I would like…” Penelope let her words trail off, suddenly embarrassed at what she had thought to say. “Nevermind that.” Moving forward, she went closer to the cottage.

George jogged to keep up. “What would you like?”

“I only had the thought,” she started. “A silly thought, at that, to one day, perhaps, see the New World for myself.”

He watched the side of her face as they approached the cottage. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not–”

“I went when I had nothing more than the clothes on my back and money in my pocket,” George said with a shrug. “What’s stopping you?”

Penelope hung back as he continued forward, suddenly feeling quite breathless. George opened the cottage’s front door, slipping inside and talking absentmindedly to himself. He rose his voice as if to speak to her, but she remained further behind, taking small steps to get closer.

She wasn’t sure what it was that she wanted to hear from him after mentioning that. Whatever she sought, it wasn’t what he had said. It couldn’t have been for him to offer the idea of them going together.

It couldn’t have been that…right?

“Penelope,” George called out, his head poking out the front window, “Come round the back!”

Crossing past the side of the cottage, Penelope looked over its wooden walls, the secure roof and space for a garden. Her hope and excitement for the future began to grow the further she walked. As she came to the back of the cottage, her shoulders deflated.

George stepped out the back door, looking over the view of fields and forests. “No barn, it seems,” he said.

“And no stable,” Penelope whispered.

“Not to worry.” He left the cottage, taking a few steps closer to her. “There’s plenty of time to secure one better.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to go through the trouble.”

George raised a brow. “Why not?”

She hesitated, looking away as he drew even closer to her. “L-Let me look inside.”

Before he could say anything, Penelope gathered her skirts and slipped around him, stepping over the underbrush to enter the wispy little cottage.

The wind creaked and moaned against the old floorboards and thin walls. Furniture, simple and inexpensive, was covered with sheets, kitchen supplies tucked neatly within a few cabinets. She moved slowly through it, trying to imagine herself within it. There were plenty of nooks for Butternut to make a nest within, space for dog beds and baskets of toys. Despite the lack of a barn or a table, Penelope allowed herself to stand within the center of the cottage, and dream up her future life, imagining that she already lived it.

“Well,” George said as he stepped in behind her, “What do you think?”

“It is all lovely,” she murmured.

“Then why do I get the feeling that you are sad?”

Penelope turned to face him. “It would be perfect if there were a barn and a stable.”

“Sure,” he said. “There isn’t anything else?”

She held her hands behind her back, watching him through her lashes. “Should there be?”

George hesitated, and glanced around the room before reaching behind his head, swiping away a trail of sweat. “I’ll let the driver know we’ll be departing soon,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “Wrangle your beasts, won’t you?”

Without another word, he passed by her, going out the front exit of the cottage. For a second time that day, Penelope was left unsure of her own thoughts. Was there something else she had wanted him to say? Penelope bit back a bitter little laugh. She was nothing more than a fool. Her heart was reserved for her animals, for the creatures who loved her without challenge or conditions, and she didn’t plan to change that any time soon.Burying the rustling butterflies that tormented her stomach, Penelope went out the back of the cottage. A few yards away, Priory and Pat chased each other through a grassy field. They nipped at each other as they ran, moving at speeds Penelope had never seen them go at before.

She waited a moment more, not wanting to put them back into such a small carriage after they only got a taste of the freedom she yearned to give them. They yippedand barked, tongues lolling out their mouths. Despite being tired, they refused stop and miss out on any of the fun.

Sighing, Penelope took a few steps forward, and stuck her fingers inher mouth, releasing a sharp whistle through the air. Like clockwork, Priory’s and Pat’s heads turned towards her, and they sprinted in her direction. They slowed to a stop around her, both standing on their hind legs to get some excited licks in across her face.

“Good girls,” Penelope cooed, crouching down to give them some pets in the sunlight.

They both fell to the grass, rolling over on their backs to get well-earned belly rubs.

Penelope looked over her shoulder at the sound of feet crunching against the grass. “See,” she called out to George, who watched with crossed arms, “I told you they’d come back.”

George huffed. “You’re lucky they didn’t smell anything.”

“Watch yourself,” Penelope warned playfully, “Come too close, and they’ll smell you!”

“Oh, don’t be -”

Suddenly, Priory’s head shot up, her stare landing on George. He froze, one foot still raised in the air. As if they had one brain, Pat looked up next, even going so far as to jump to her feet. Priory quickly followed behind, and before George had any time to even think about running, the pair of foxhounds pelted towards him, eagerly hopping and jumping to try and play with him.

Much to her surprise, George crouched, extending his arms towards the pair. They barked and yipped, tails wagging wildly in the air behind them. He wrestled with them, rubbing at their stomachs and dodging the playful snap of their mouths beside his arms. A musical laugh left his lips as George rolled backwards, bum smacking against the dirty ground. No doubt it smudged against his pants as the foxhounds scrambledon top of him, licking and licking at his face.

Penelope stood back up, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. George rolled back to his feet, patting the top of their heads and letting them nibble against his fingers. He raised his gaze, meeting Penelope’s. He was lit up and breathless, hair ruffled and turned askew. Penelope’s heart grew in a way that made her cover her mouth, turning her gaze away from him as he leapt inside the carriage.

The foxhounds, not having any patience, climbedup at the same time. Penelope was tempted to do the same.

Before she stepped inside, Penelope glanced over her shoulder at the cottage. The wind brushed through her hair as if it said goodbye, wishing her farewell. She entered the carriage, no longer sure of what her future held, and where her heart lay with the Duke.