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CHAPTER 17

“G raystone!” Penelope exclaimed in delight. “Goodness, I suppose they weren’t exaggerating when they said the entire ton would be here.”

Once Jerry had exchanged greetings with both Penelope and the dowager duchess, he inquired at once about Mother's welfare.

“She’s still in the full-mourning period, of course,” answered Penelope, “but at least she no longer confines herself to just her room. In fact, every so often, Her Grace even persuades her to go shopping.”

As Jerry expressed his elation at the good news, a pang of guilt struck Penelope’s chest. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that aside from an awkward “Good morning” or similar sentiment, Mother wasn't currently speaking to her.

The master of ceremonies declared the next figure and Jerry suddenly straightened up. “I believe that’s my number.”

He turned back to her with a giddy smile. “May I have this dance, Little Penny Punton?”

“Why yes, you may, Jerry Gray,” she laughed, putting her gloved hand in his.

As they danced, Penelope couldn’t help but appreciate how their hosts had managed to maintain a consistent level of orderliness, elegance, and high spirits on such a grand scale.

When she expressed this sentiment to Jerry, he agreed wholeheartedly. “I didn’t think it was possible, but the Sunbourne’s somehow outdid themselves this year, didn’t they?”

“It’s incredible!” Penelope concurred, gazing at the chandeliers above them.

The sound of Graystone chuckling called her attention back to him. “What?” she huffed.

“Don’t worry, Penny,” he assured her, “It wasn’t a laugh of derision, but of delight.” His expression softened. “I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but you seem... different somehow. You never used to laugh or smile so easily.”

“Jerry Gray! I hope you aren’t implying that I was miserable company,” Penelope joked, “because if so, it would be quite tragic to find out after so many years of friendship.”

“That's not what I’m saying at all.” Her dance partner squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Only that you are even more pleasant company than before.” He leaned closer to ask, “Am I to assume that this is because you’ve managed to secure a fiancé?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Penelope sighed. “I thought I had come rather close a handful of times. But knowing that this ball was coming up, I decided it would be easier to catch someone’s attention here.”

Her old friend’s smile faded. “Penny, I know it’s hardly my business, but aren't you worried that leaving it until now is quite risky?”

Of course, I’m worried! she wanted to yell. But if she had said so, she would then inevitably have to explain that it was actually His Grace’s advice to hold back for so long.

“I never thought the day would come where I would be saying this to you , Jerry Gray,” she smiled, “but you’re worrying a little too much.”

Her friend opened his mouth—likely to protest, but evidently changed his mind. “As you say, Penny. Just promise me you’ll get it sorted out soon.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

After their dance, he escorted her back to the dowager duchess, thanked them both, and left to mingle with the other guests.

Soon after Jerry had separated from them, Lord Steepwharf happened to pass by. As usual, greetings and inquiries about the other person’s welfare were made.

Thanks to her latest lesson with His Grace, Penelope now noticed just how much gentler the viscount’s demeanor was towards the dowager duchess, who in turn showered him with praise and sincerely reminded him about how proud his parents would be if they were here.

When other guests approached to speak with the dowager duchess, the viscount asked Penelope about how she was enjoying the ball so far.

After she gave her positive reply, Lord Steepwharf asked another question, “And what of the Duke of Blackmoore? How has he been keeping these days?”

“He’s well, Lord Steepwharf,” Penelope smiled, scanning the room, “but if you’re looking for him, I think I spied him talking to-”

“No need to send for him.” The viscount waved a hand. “I’m glad that he’s doing well. I also hope you’re not too disappointed that he’s flitting around the party instead of staying by your side.”

“Why would I be disappointed?” Penelope chuckled. “Such behavior is perfectly characteristic of His Grace. If he was staying put, now that would be cause for concern.”

The viscount let out a polite laugh upon hearing this, but something about the way his eyes shifted told her that he wasn't fully satisfied with her answer.

Perhaps he meant something else? she worriedly asked herself.

But Lord Steepwharf didn’t pursue the subject any further and after bidding her and the dowager duchess to enjoy the rest of the ball, he separated from them too.

She fidgeted with her thumbs as she patiently waited for His Grace. He had promised to introduce her to the fourth and fifth names from her practice list: the Marquess of Wayshell and the Duke of Montguard respectively. But it had been over an hour since they had arrived at the ball, and she still hadn’t been introduced to either of them.

With Jerry’s words still gnawing at her—in addition to her own worries—Penelope decided she needed to be more active in seeking out new prospects.

With so many guests present, it would be practically impossible to catch the attention of someone on the other side of the room, so she would have to aim closer.

Stealing a discreet glance to her left, she spotted a trio of gentlemen several yards away. Two of the men seemed deeply engrossed in whatever the discussion was about while the third appeared to only be listening half-heartedly.

He looks to be about my age and with an unassuming air despite being tall.

True, Penelope knew absolutely nothing about him. But she needed the practice so she decided to push forward.

With these many guests present, it would take more than an exaggerated movement with a fan to draw her target’s eye—even though the technique had served her well at the garden party.

Instead, she carefully scanned her surroundings so that no one was watching her just yet. On the chair to her right, the dowager duchess was making pleasant conversation with another chaperone.

As discreetly as she could, Penelope tossed her fan under the table next to her, where the draped tablecloth proceeded to hide it. She then slowly rose from her chair under the guise of wanting to stretch her legs.

Pacing back and forth near her chair, she knew this alone still wouldn’t be enough movement to get her target’s attention.

So, she walked around the table’s circumference—putting as much distance between her and the dowager duchess as she could—before pretending to frantically search for her fan.

She made sure to lower herself to the floor as swiftly as possible, hoping that the movement she had created would have been just enough to capture even the peripheral vision of her target.

Lifting the tablecloth, Penelope made sure to heave her shoulders up and down to indicate clear relief as she reached for her fan and rose to her feet once more.

Now to see if all of that effort worked.

Resuming her guise of wanting to stretch her legs, Penelope paced back and forth once more. But when she faced the trio’s direction this time, she caught her unassuming target watching her.

Before she celebrated inwardly, Penelope made sure to flash him a sheepish smile, as though she were embarrassed that he had happened to see her mishap with the fan.

He smiled back.

Yes! she squealed inwardly. Now it’s simply a matter of stealing glances at him until he decides to make a move.

But her plan was foiled almost at once—albeit for a happy reason—as Rebecca and William approached with a chestnut-haired gentleman in tow.

Penelope was so pleased to see her childhood friend again that she set aside all other plans. The dowager duchess evidently already knew all of them.

So it was only to Penelope that the chestnut-haired gentleman was introduced as the Viscount Gloushire.

“Oh!” Penelope snuck a glance at Rebecca realizing that this was the gentleman she wanted to introduce Penelope to that fateful night at the Duke of Ashfordshire’s ball. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gloushire.”

This match appeared to be a good ten years or so older than Penelope, but based on his stance and kind smile, she already felt at ease with him.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Penelope,” he answered. “The Duke and Duchess of Danton have had nothing but lovely things to say about you.”

“Oh, Rebecca tends to exaggerate,” Penelope replied sheepishly, “so it would be wise to take anything she says about me with a grain of salt.”

“Now, Pen!” tutted her friend, “If anyone’s exaggerating, it’s you with regards to how harshly you put yourself down. Fortunately, I warned the viscount you would try to do this.”

“It’s true,” chuckled Lord Gloushire. “I'm glad that we have finally been introduced so that I can ascertain the truth myself.”

Penelope felt her spirits lift—perhaps tonight wouldn’t be fruitless after all. With her chaperone’s permission, Penelope spent the next dance with Lord Gloushire and had a perfectly pleasant time.

She somehow felt even more at ease with him than she had with Lord Steepwharf despite having known the latter for longer. He wasn’t as excitable or spirited as any of the other gentlemen Penelope had encountered since beginning her quest, but she didn’t mind. His more laidback yet sensible demeanor felt more natural to her.

After the dance, Lord Gloushire escorted her back to her seat where they found the dowager duchess conversing with His Grace and two other gentlemen.

After barely acknowledging Lord Gloushire, His Grace immediately began introductions between Penelope and the gentlemen who turned out to be Duke of Montguard as well as the Marquess of Wayshell—whom Penelope had been waiting for and anticipating since arriving at tonight’s ball.

She attempted to keep herself interested in the discussion, but when Lord Gloushire excused himself and began walking away, she couldn't help but feel that she was now wasting time as well as an opportunity that held any real promise of bringing an end to the seemingly endless hunt.

With this in mind, she also excused herself—much to His Grace’s visible shock and bewilderment—and began searching through the crowd for him.

Just when Penelope thought she had spotted him again, she was caught off-guard by the dowager duchess locking arms with her and whispering, “Pet, this lovely gentleman has just asked to be introduced to you.”

Penelope couldn’t hold back her exasperated sigh as the dowager duchess herded her back towards their table. “I thank you, Your Grace, but I was hoping to visit the powder- Oh.”

Evidently, the gentleman who had requested the introduction was none other than the very one whose attention Penelope had worked so hard to catch with her fan.

“Lady Penelope, it is a pleasure to introduce the Viscount Fernside,” Her Grace chirped. “The very moment he saw that you had finished your conversation with the others, he bolted over to request that I introduce you both.”

“Your Grace...” the viscount half-heartedly protested, before bowing towards her. “How do you do, Lady Penelope?”

Penelope couldn’t help but smile at his nervousness. From this close, it was easy to tell that he was either exactly her age—or perhaps a year or so older. His skittishness very much reminded Penelope of herself when she was first learning how to flirt.

“I’m very well, thank you, Lord Fernside,” she chuckled, attempting to put him at ease. “I do hope you can say the same. Are you enjoying the ball so far?”

“Yes, thank you.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “But it would be more enjoyable if I could perhaps have a dance wit-”

“Lady Pen!” hissed the Duke of Blackmoore, grabbing her arm. “Can I speak with you?”

“In a moment, Your Grace.” She shook her arm free. “As you can see, I am busy at the moment.”

The duke turned to her companion unsmiling and bemused. “Fernside, you may leave us now.”

“Yes, Your Grace, of course,” the younger man hastily answered, flashing Penelope one last sheepish glance as he left.

“What was that for?” she asked indignantly.

“Please...” His Grace rolled his eyes, “A scoundrel like Fernside isn’t even worth practicing on.”

“He was perfectly sweet!” she protested, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

The duke clicked his tongue. “Did you learn nothing from our latest lesson? Fernside is far from ‘sweet’, he’s a gambler who latches onto anyone and everyone who could potentially lend him money.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. “I beg your pardon? That bundle of nerves couldn’t have possibly been-”

“It’s true,” His Grace drily insisted. “It’s rather unfortunate, but he got into races and cards when he was quite young. He's one of the few who managed to get barred from Gillingham’s for a reason, you know.”

He whispered even lower, “But never mind that now, what on earth has gotten into you? Do you know how long it took for me to pry both Montguard and Wayshell out of the other guests’ palms just to have you dismiss them without even giving them the time of day?”

Penelope exhaled, “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I believe I was making real headway with Lord Gloushire.”

“Gloushire?” His Grace frowned. “As in the Viscount Gloushire? Didn’t you say you were going to aim higher?”

“That’s what you advised.” She took out her fan, feeling her blood growing hotter the longer they spoke. “And look at what we have to show for it! I might actually stand a chance with Lord Gloushire—who’s perfectly agreeable and upright—but somehow even he isn’t good enough. So then tell me who is?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere. Tell my mother that you’re going to the powder room, then meet me in the West Gardens, near the hanging wisteria archway.”

Penelope shot him an annoyed look, incredulous that immediately after she had lamented where following his orders had led them, he was now giving her even more to follow.

“Please...” he gave her a small smile, “trust me just one more time.”