Page 10

CHAPTER 9

“W hat about here, Mother?” Penelope gestured to the stone bench.

“Yes.” Mother nodded with a smile. “This has just the right balance of shade and sunlight.”

For the first time since Father had died, in fact, for the first time since Father had fallen ill, Mother and Penelope had finally resumed their afternoon garden strolls.

As the two women took their places on the bench, Penelope retrieved her book from the basket before sliding it towards Mother, so that the latter could retrieve her needle and threads.

Penelope did her best to read but couldn't help but sneak worried glances at Mother out of the corner of her eye every now and then.

After breakfast, the rest of the morning passed by rather quietly and uneventfully, which Penelope had been most grateful for as it allowed her to make up for the sleep lost last night.

By the time luncheon rolled around, she finally felt back to her usual self. It was actually the dowager duchess who brought up the idea of an afternoon garden stroll.

Penelope concurred at once, presuming that Her Grace was addressing her alone. However, to her surprise, the dowager duchess took a moment to swallow her cake before turning to Mother to add, “Make sure you put on a shawl, Sophia, dear. As pleasant as the spring breezes are, you would do well to guard yourself against them in your weakened state.”

Even more unexpected was the way that Mother had hardly protested at all.

His Grace wasn't exaggerating when he alluded to how persuasive his family can be.

The three women had agreed to give each other some time to get dressed, grab their personal affects, and meet near the rear entrance of the house. However, when the time came, Mr. Rowley informed Penelope and Mother that Her Grace would run a little bit late as some urgent correspondence had suddenly arrived.

In hindsight, it was also entirely possible that Her Grace was doing this as a way of giving Penelope and Mother a chance to converse privately. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at this thought because it appeared like the exact sort of orchestration the Duke of Blackmoore would be guilty of himself.

Like mother, like son, I suppose.

And now that she had been given this opportunity, Penelope had to make sure to take full advantage of it.

“It's so good to see that you’re embroidering again.” Penelope smiled softly.

“Darling, you know I wouldn’t have slowed down at all if it weren’t for my joints.” The older woman sighed, momentarily putting down her embroidery to examine her hands. “Truthfully, they’re still a bit painful, but I’ve missed embroidering so very much.”

“I’m not surprised at all.” Penelope chuckled. “I distinctly recall numerous picnics and tris where you were perfectly content with your embroidery while Father and I played in the grass.”

Mother exhaled slightly through her nose. “Your father used to always tease me, saying that I might as well have stayed at home if I wasn’t going to so much as touch the grass.”

She met Penelope’s gaze, her eyes now wet. “Now that he’s gone, I wish I had listened. I wish I had spent more time with-”

Penelope furiously shook her head. “Mother... if there is anyone to be blamed for you and Father not having spent enough time together, it would be Fathe-”

“Penelope!” her mother snapped, her eyes welling up even more so now. “How dare you say something so heartless about your own-”

Penelope leaped up from her spot, “But it’s true! If he had spent more time at home instead of gallivanting with-”

Mother didn’t let her finish, jumping up from the bench with a sob and running towards the house, pushing past the Dowager Duchess and the Duke of Blackmoore as she did.

“Sophia?” the dowager duchess called after her, but to no avail.

Only just now realizing that they were here, Penelope blinked her tears away, but new tears came to replace them. The dowager duchess sent Penelope a sympathetic look before turning around to follow after Mother.

For her part, Penelope threw herself back onto the bench and buried her face in her hands. As she sobbed, she felt something soft touch her fingers.

Lowering her hands, she found His Grace offering her his handkerchief wearing a limp smile. She silently accepted it from him and began dabbing her eyes.

As she did so, she met his gaze accidentally and sighed, “Just say whatever it is you want to ask.”

“Hmm?” The duke blinked at her. “I wasn’t thinking of asking you anything, Lady Pen. Aside from whether you’d like me to have some water brought for you, of course.”

Her hand froze mid-air when she heard this. “It's a most uncharacteristic thing for you to not be poking your nose where it isn’t wanted, Your Grace. Did something happen to you as well?”

The duke let out a snort. “Always so suspicious of me.”

Gesturing to the bench, he asked whether he could join her. Leaning back comfortably, he continued, “In truth, I don’t need to ‘poke my nose where it isn’t wanted’ because I’ve had quite a few arguments with my mother in the past and well, I’d recognize the looks in both your eyes anywhere,” he sighed, looking skyward.

“It just came out of nowhere.” Penelope clasped her hands together. “I didn’t mean to upset her, but I was just so tired of watching her bear the blame for everything that was his fault to begi-”

Penelope stopped herself, but realized that it was most probably too late; she shared too much—that is, assuming that the dowager duchess hadn’t already told him what Penelope had shared in confidence before.

Likely sensing her apprehension, the duke awkwardly cleared his throat, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re completely right.”

Intrigued, Penelope shot him a perplexed look but when he didn't meet her gaze, she followed his line of sight and realized that he was watching a family of sparrows happily use the bird bath.

“After all, I'm sure you've noticed that I’m rather protective of my own mother as well,” he exhaled.

Penelope’s eyes drifted to the cloth mother had been embroidering as she replied through gritted teeth, “I should have protected her better when he was alive.”

“How do you mean?” The duke furrowed his eyebrows in worry. “Was he... a violent sort of man?”

“No, thank Providence.” Penelope scowled, looking down at her hands once more. “His problem was that he was too... friendly . I never confronted him about it because well, Mother never did. And even now that he’s gone, she’s doing exactly what she did when he was alive—locking herself away in her room to drown in her tears and sorrow.”

Turning her body a little away from him, Penelope angled her head to lean against the bench’s backrest. “I just wish I could understand why she would put herself through so much for all those years.”

The duke let out a deep sigh. “For love, one can withstand even the most torturous of pains.”

She looked over her shoulder to find the duke had also similarly laid his head on the backrest and was looking straight into her eyes.

“Have... you been in love before, Your Grace?” She blinked at him.

With a snort, he answered, “Heavens no! And I thank Providence for that every day.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Then how do you know about withstanding ‘even the most torturous of pains’?” She turned to face him. “Come now, Your Grace, I’ve told you so many of my secrets, isn’t it fair that you share at least one of yours?”

He scanned their surroundings before finally letting out a sigh, “It’s not really a secret, but when I was younger, I called off an engagement with the Duke of Hollowston’s daughter.”

Penelope’s eyes widened, this must have happened either before or just immediately after she was out because she didn’t remember hearing about this at all. “Which one? Lady Amelia?”

“The very same,” he answered with a bitter smile. “Her father—understandably—took great offense because the engagement had already been announced four months prior and the wedding was barely two months away, so he made it his duty to warn the ton about me.”

“But surely you didn’t call it off for something trivial, Your Grace,” Penelope gasped, “Didn’t you give him your reason?”

“I had one, of course,” His Grace averted his eyes, “but I knew explaining myself wasn’t going to make a difference, so I figured it would be smarter—and far less humiliating—if I kept it close to my chest instead.”

“What was it though?” Her curiosity prompted her to slide a little closer to him.

He cleared his throat, “Love, well, more accurately, the fear of love.” He also adjusted his posture, putting even less space between them now. “You see, my parents never had eyes for anyone other than each other. So, when I saw my mother being torn apart from her grief,” his voice began to sound constricted, “well, I decided to spare myself the pain while I still could.”

“Wasn’t it still painful to lose Lady Amelia, however?”

“No.” He shrugged. “Our fathers arranged it, and I went along out of convenience, but the longer you stay, the higher the risk of growing to love someone. So, I called it off.”

As he sat before her, bathed in speckles of the afternoon sun’s golden rays that found their way through the canopy of leaves, Penelope wished she could do more than sit here sympathetically.

If it were Graystone telling me this, I’d have no problem pulling him in for a hug.

“But you’ve somehow still managed to find yourself in pain, Your Grace,” she reminded him. “I know you're more self-assured than most, but the deadly glares and hushed whispers that get thrown your way at events must sting even just a little bit.”

“A little, yes.” He chuckled, before his eyes darkened once more. “But then I remember that it doesn’t hurt nearly a fraction as much as it does to lose someone you love. I mean, you’re seeing it now with your own mother, right?”

Penelope looked at the clouds lazily drifting above them. “Yes,” she choked out.

“And aren’t you worried about suffering the same fate after you’re married?” inquired the duke.

Penelope shook her head confidently. “After having witnessed all the terrible things he put her through? There is absolutely no chance I would ever allow myself to be so weak. I simply need a means to get away from-”

She stopped herself again.

He held up a hand reassuringly. “Like I said, I won’t pry, Lady Pen. But since you’re still determined to continue in your quest for a husband, we shall conduct your first official lesson in my study at nine o’clock tonight.”

“Lesson?” She tilted her head.

But he was already stretching his arms above his head as he walked away. “I hope you studied well,” he called over his shoulder. “I don't like to waste time.”

She watched him walk away for a little bit before chuckling under her breath, “I know, Your Grace. I know.”