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CHAPTER 14

P enelope adjusted her skirt a final time before turning away from her dresser.

She chewed her lip contemplatively as she stared at her bedroom door. Much like her mother, she had spent the better part of the last two days confined to her room.

For the incident in the drawing room had served as a cautionary lesson, a reminder that Penelope had done the very thing she swore she never would—she had let her guard down.

She didn’t necessarily blame the duke for this. After all, it was hardly his fault that he was so naturally alluring.

No, this was her fault. She knew better, but still allowed herself to get swept up. As a result, things between them were now unbearably awkward.

Penelope had been doing everything she could to avoid him, but she didn’t want to worry the dowager duchess unnecessarily, so she still had to show up for meals and pretend that everything was normal.

She glanced at the clock.

Ten minutes to seven. She smiled, I still have plenty of time .

Penelope made her way to the morning room, where the only person who it wasn’t awkward for her to converse with now sat.

“Good morning, pet!” greeted the dowager duchess.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled, taking her usual chair. “Is there anything of note in today’s paper?”

The dowager duchess shook her head. “Not this morning, I’m afraid. Except for how Magliozzi’s understudy had to take over for her last night and surprised everyone with how well she did.”

“Is that so?” Penelope acknowledged, spreading butter on her toast. “Well enough to possibly star in her own opera soon?”

“The Herald certainly thinks so.” The dowager duchess nodded to the paper. “After all, there is no way Magliozzi’s loyal supporters would ever allow her to be ousted as such.”

“I don’t think anyone would ever wish for Magliozzi to retire,” Penelope answered, biting into her toast with a satisfying crunch. “I still remember the first time I ever saw her perfor-”

Penelope’s voice caught in her throat when, to her dismay, the Duke of Blackmoore waltzed through the door—despite it being about forty minutes earlier than when he usually took his breakfast.

“Good morning,” he greeted the room.

“Good morning, darling!” cooed his mother. “Are you in a rush today?”

“Not really.” He smiled, taking his place at the head of the table. “Just thought it would be nice to get an early start to my day.”

Penelope let out an annoyed sigh as she bit into her toast once again.

Up until this point, she had been successfully running into him at breakfast by arriving early and finishing her food as quickly as possible.

But now that he was here, she couldn’t simply get up and leave.

“Sorry, my pet, what were you saying earlier about Magliozzi?” asked the dowager duchess.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything important, Your Grace,” Penelope answered sheepishly, “I was merely recalling the first time I caught one of her performances.”

“Poor Magliozzi,” tutted the duke. “They say she collapsed in her dressing room last night.”

“Good heavens! The paper said that she couldn’t perform, but not that she had collapsed!” exclaimed Her Grace. “What happened?”

“No cause has been confirmed as yet,” shrugged His Grace. “I myself only heard it from Harlington, who in turn heard it from a friend of one of the understudies. But perhaps London’s favorite opera angel has been pushing herself too hard.”

As he kept talking, Penelope seized the chance to finish the last of her toast and polish off her tea.

By the time the dowager duchess had begun warning her son about the dangers of working himself too hard, Penelope was ready to excuse herself.

“Finished already?” gasped Her Grace.

Penelope grinned. “His Grace has inspired me to also endeavor to get an early start to my day.”

As she turned to leave, the duke casually called after her, “Be sure you don’t strain yourself, Lady Pen. We wouldn’t want you falling asleep on your plate at tonight’s dinner party.”

His reminder stopped her in her tracks. “Dinner party…?”

The duke clicked his tongue, “Did you forget? Surely Rowley must have reminded you at some point yesterday.”

Penelope let out a gasp in realization, Ah… so that’s what he was talking about.

To clear her head of the embarrassment that haunted her since the drawing room incident, Penelope had been pouring herself into her paintings.

She had informed the staff ahead of time that she would be taking her tea in her room yesterday. But Rowley happened to deliver her tea at the worst possible moment—right as her frustration boiled over because despite her best efforts, her paints refused to produce the particular shade of ombre she needed.

As a result, when the butler arrived and set the tray down for her, she barely heard a word he said and mumbled a hasty thank you as she continued the battle against her palette.

Now that I think about it, Mr. Rowley did seem perplexed when he left my room yesterday.

“Of course, I didn’t forget,” she chuckled—though her voice sounded a little less convincing than she had hoped.

“Wonderful,” smiled the duke, “because there are quite a few fascinating people who were also invited tonight. Including one or two friends we may have discussed the other day.”

For the first time since he had entered the room—perhaps even since they had parted ways in the drawing room—Penelope met his gaze.

Lord Direpeak? she asked wordlessly.

He also answered wordlessly by means of a smug smile and a shallow nod.

“Oh, are you expecting to see someone you know there?” chirped the dowager duchess. “How lovely.”

“Yes, Lady Pen should have a lovely time indeed,” winked the duke.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously once more before she finally got to leave.

What are you up to this time, Your Grace?

* * *

No sooner had they finished greeting and thanking their hosts—the Marquess and Marchioness of Inglesfield—did the duke nudge Penelope in the side.

She shot him an annoyed look, but instead of his usual mischievous expression, his face appeared quite serious.

He nodded slightly, indicating that they take a few steps away from the small group that was forming around the dowager duchess and their hosts as they fawned over each other’s clothing.

“So, I managed to pull a few strings,” the duke whispered urgently, “and you’ll be seated next to both the Earl of Direpeak and the Marquess of Newshore.”

Penelope’s heart dropped.

The Marquess of Newshore was the third gentleman on the list of practice suitors that the duke had provided her with. But since being reminded about the party this morning, Penelope had poured all her energy into brushing up her knowledge on Lord Direpeak and none of the others.

“Your Grace!” she hissed, “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I was looking for a way to let you know during breakfast,” he answered drily, “but you were out the door before I could even smell my tea.”

Penelope wrung her hands in guilt. “But even so! Why did you have them seat both of them next to me? Why not just Lord Direpeak?”

“Think of it as killing two birds with one ston- Good evening,” he said with a forced smile as a guest walked past them. “I didn’t even know Newshore had been invited until yesterday evening when I spoke to Inglesfield.”

Penelope shook out her hands in an attempt to dispel her nerves.

“Don’t worry,” the duke assured her, “I’ll be sitting right across from you. If the conversation starts to get too dry or overwhelming, just touch your nose to let me know I should intervene, and I’ll do my best.”

“Touch my nose?” she furrowed her eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we choose a more subtle signal?”

“No…” His Grace waved a finger, “because a subtler signal would tempt you to call on my help more often than may actually be necessary. This way you’ll be forced to call on me only as a last resort.”

“Oh, darling, look!” Her Grace waved, locking arms with her son. “Lady Wrenslot and her whole family are here. Let all three of us go say hello.”

The next hour proceeded in much of a similar manner, with Her Grace recognizing a familiar face or two and then dragging Penelope—and when he could be found, His Grace—along with her to engage in polite conversation.

Indeed, by calling this a “dinner party”, the Marquess of Inglesfield and his family were being rather modest.

If Penelope wasn’t so worried about the seating arrangements, she could have probably taken advantage of the introductions and acquaintances Her Grace made for her here tonight to add to her family’s repertoire of connections.

At last, dinner had arrived and just as His Grace had said, Penelope found herself between Lords Direpeak and Newshore.

Penelope knew it would be easier to start with Lord Direpeak, but the marquess was the first to offer to replenish her bowl of soup.

“Thank you, Lord Newshore,” she just about managed to squeak out, earning a glare from His Grace.

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, the marquess offered her a reassuring smile. “Isn’t this spread rather impressive, Lady Penelope?”

“Indeed, Lord Newshore.” She cleared her throat, “We're practically up to our eyes in food.”

“If you want to speak about drowning in food...” Lord Direpeak finally joined them, “then you simply must hear about my visit to Saint Leys.”

“Not this again, Dee,” groaned the marquess.

Penelope was surprised to hear them speak so familiarly with each other.

“If this story bothers you so much, then look the other way, Newshore,” huffed the earl. “I’m addressing Lady Penelope.”

“Now that’s not fair,” tutted the other gentleman. “Anyone can see from her demeanor that Lady Penelope is far too kindhearted to turn down your boring stories.”

Penelope let out a chuckle. “Your kind words are much appreciated Lord Newshore. However, I fail to see how any story about ‘drowning in food’ could be boring.”

As their spirited discussion carried on, Penelope—once again very aware that she listened attentively for the next few minutes for opportunities to apply everything she had learned.

However, she barely had to exert herself as the conversation flowed freely. Yes, it was somewhat challenging having to balance her attention between the two gentlemen.

But whenever she did manage to get a quip in, Penelope could swear that His Grace’s face lit up every time, which only added to her elation.

Duncan also had a lady sitting on either side of him, but the one on his right didn’t seem as interested in speaking to him. However, he didn’t seem to mind because Lady Cecilia appeared to be more than enough to occupy his attention.

With so many guests present—and with two bubbly gentlemen to pay attention to—Penelope couldn’t hear everything His Grace and Lady Cecilia were saying, but she did hear the other lady giggle as she let out a, “Your Grace, you’re just too much!”

What was even more fascinating was how His Grace managed to elicit such a reaction seemingly without breaking a sweat. As his companion giggled, sighed, and twirled her hair, the duke’s smile remained easy, his shoulders relaxed, and his expression polite.

It seems His Grace has a fondness for blondes. Penelope quietly noted, not knowing why she felt a twinge of disappointment as she thought this.

No, I’m not disappointed, I’m grateful that I have reddish-brown hair instead.

“...rather preposterous!” Steepwharf declared, snapping her out of her daze, “But then again, perhaps a woman’s insight would serve us better. What do you think, Lady Penelope?”

Both gentlemen looked at her expectantly.

“Er...” Penelope answered slowly, “I... believe both sides make excellent points, perhaps it’s all simply a matter of... timing?” Her inflection rose a little higher towards the end of her remark, betraying her uncertainty.

It was unclear how long Penelope had allowed her mind to wander, but it was apparently long enough that she now didn’t have even a crumb of a clue of what they were talking about.

But her listeners didn’t seem to mind. Lord Newshore even appeared impressed. “Now that is a fascinating point about timing.” He looked past her at Lord Steepwharf. “For example, in Somberley’s case, my suggestion be preferred to-”

This was her chance to catch up on whatever was going on, but Penelope simply couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering across the table once more.

What could he possibly be saying to make her laugh so much? she wondered.