Page 23

CHAPTER 22

“H ere we are!”

Lord Gloushire’s voice startled Penelope in her seat.

“Good heavens, dear! You’re as pale as a ghost!” he gasped, leaning on the edge of his coach seat across from her, reaching a hand to cup her face.

“I’m all right,” Penelope assured him, before intertwining her hands with Mother’s. “But as you can imagine, I am... more than a little nervous,” she confessed.

“While that is completely understandable, there is no need to be so overly anxious. I’m certain they’ll absolutely love you both!” assured the viscount, before turning to Mother. “I do hope you're less worried, Lady Punton.”

“In fact, I’m quite excited, Lord Gloushire.” Mother beamed. “It has been a while since I heard the pitter-patter of little feet.”

Penelope separated her hand from Mother’s so she could place it on her bouncing leg. Despite the reassurance, she was still hesitant to disembark.

It had now been more than a month since Lord Gloushire began officially courting her and everything had been going smoothly. As they grew more comfortable around each other, he eventually revealed that he had two young children.

“I would completely understand if this puts you off seeing me any further,” Lord Gloushire had said, taking an awkward sip of his tea after his revelation, “but my selfish side does cling to the hope that this doesn't have to be the end of our involvement.”

Penelope had then explained at the time that of course, she didn’t mind—for which the viscount profusely thanked her as he planted chaste kisses of gratitude on her hands.

However, after he had left, the full weight of what she had agreed to finally hit her. Based on the rate at which everything was progressing, not only was Penelope anticipating being married by the end of the Season, but suddenly being a mother as well.

The viscount continued to assure her that she would fulfill the role well. But she found it difficult to take his words to heart since he always treated her kindly.

Would His Grace be more honest with me? She found herself remembering his relentless teasing and torment whenever Lord Gloushire would pay her a compliment.

She never expected to one day miss the duke’s irritating smugness. But in addition to having pushed him away, she also rarely got to see him even in the hallways.

Perhaps he was sleeping somewhere else these days? Or perhaps he had already found a new debutante to occupy his time. Her hands trembled of their own accord every time that thought crossed her mind.

It’s no longer any concern of yours, she would remind herself harshly. You have enough problems as it is.

It had now been a full week since Lord Gloushire revealed that he had children, but the dizziness and weight of it all had not yet left her.

It was sudden and overwhelming, but what choice did she have? If she spurned Lord Gloushire now, there was no way she could secure a new match before being forced to go home to Uncle Winston at the end of the Season.

Now here she sat, in a coach just outside Willowdale Manor, just about to meet her imminent step-children.

At Lord Gloushire’s recommendation, Penelope wore a pink dress this morning as it was his daughter Lucy’s favorite color.

“We can try this another day if this is still too much for you,” her suitor offered considerately.

“N-No!” Penelope choked out, “I’m all right, really. If Lucy and Reggie have even a fraction of their father’s charm and kindness, then I know that there’s nothing to worry about.”

She tried to sound as confident as possible, both for his sake and her own. And it appeared to work because, with a quick nod, he signaled to the servant and allowed him to open the coach door for them.

Penelope’s eyes adjusted to the sunlight as she and Mother were helped down. Willowdale Manor was smaller than their own property, but it still had a rather charming air to it.

Linking arms with Lord Gloushire as he led them into the house, Penelope began reminding herself how to breathe.

In... out... she told herself, In... out... Big smile, shoulders straight, it’ll be all right.

When they entered the parlor, both children—along with the small number of household staff—had lined up to greet them.

“Lucy, Reggie...” the viscount cooed, his tone even gentler than usual. “This is Lady Penelope and her mother—Lady Punton. Do you remember we talked about them the other day?”

The children nodded in unison, their wide eyes shyly avoiding direct contact.

Lucy had precious blonde curls that reached her shoulders, her small fingers unable to conceal her sweet features. She was slightly tall for a child of only six years old and bore little resemblance to her father, meaning that she must have resembled her late mother instead.

Reggie, however, looked like an almost perfect copy of his father, with his chestnut hair and large round eyes. At three years old, he only came up just past his older sister’s stomach. He had been named after his late grandfather Reginald, who Penelope suspected the boy also must have resembled quite closely.

At their father’s silent beckon, both children stepped forward, their hands clumsily joined together at the base of a bouquet that they bashfully raised towards Penelope.

“For me?” She placed a hand on her chest, kneeling forward to bring herself closer to their eye level. “Why, thank you both so much! You shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble though.” She smiled, before flashing her suitor an appreciative look.

“I like your dress,” Lucy breathed, reaching to touch Penelope’s sleeve. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you, I very much like yours too.” Penelope grinned, nodding to the bow in her hair. “It’s nice to find someone who also likes pink.”

Taking care to not leave the other child out, Penelope turned her head to ask, “And what about you, Reggie? What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow!” he beamed.

“Ah! Is that why my bouquet has these lovely daffodils in it?” Penelope smiled, holding the arrangement between them.

“I like yellow!” the boy exclaimed, a stubby finger poking at one of the daffodils.

As the conversation progressed, the children appeared to become more relaxed, which in turn relaxed the adults around them.

Just as the discussion was on the cusp of turning sour as the children began to debate whether ponies are preferable to lions, Lord Gloushire lowered himself onto a knee and placed hands on each child’s head,

“Given that we have some very special guests today, we should ensure that we treat them as such.” He raised two mischievous eyebrows. “What do you say about taking Ladies Punton and Penelope to the ice parlor?”

The children erupted into squeals of delight, prompting their father to hastily raise a finger to his lips. But even after they attempted to lower their voices to a more polite volume, the tip-taps of their feet gave away their boisterous excitement.

Soon enough, the family found themselves squeezing back onto the coach as they set off for Lesnall Street. Now that summer was well on its way, it was no surprise that the parlor was filled to the brim with patrons looking to escape the glare.

Even so, the sudden shift in temperature as they entered the parlor sent a shiver down Penelope’s spine. She and Mother followed right behind Lord Gloushire as he carried Reggie in his arms while holding onto Lucy with his other hand.

If this is how supportive and involved he is as a father, then perhaps he was right about me not having to worry too much about my imminent responsibilities as a mother.

“-Lady Penelope?” his voice jolted her out of her thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?” she stuttered in reply.

He nodded towards the menu in front of them. “I said, what flavor would you like?”

“Oh! Just vanilla is perfectly fine for me.”

Mother explained that she only wanted to share Penelope’s iced vanilla, but Lord Gloushire refused to hear it. Soon, their ices arrived, chocolate ones for the children, vanilla scoops for Penelope and Mother, and strawberry for the gentleman.

“I wouldn't have guessed strawberry was your preferred flavor, Lord Gloushire.” Penelope smiled. “It looks delicious.”

“In truth, I normally also quite enjoy vanilla,” he confessed. “But I thought I would keep with the adventurous spirit of the day and try something new.”

Penelope chuckled, “And what, pray tell, is the final verdict?”

The viscount looked around them before lowering his voice, “It tastes a little bit like they simply mixed ice and strawberry jam. Here...” he raised the spoon towards her, “would you like to try?”

A blush crept onto Penelope’s cheeks—perhaps the first time since Lord Gloushire began courting her—as she leaned towards his hand.

“I want to try, Father!” Lucy squeaked, tugging his sleeve.

He almost jolted away from Penelope, clearing his throat awkwardly before giving his daughter a smile. “Of course, dearest. Here you go.”

“Me too!” whined Reggie.

Penelope and Mother shared a laugh as they watched the children’s faces scrunch up in disappointment.

“The chocolate is much better!” the young girl exclaimed, eagerly shoving her own spoon back into her mouth.

Lord Gloushire grinned as he brushed a lock of her golden curls away from her face. “The next time we visit, I’ll be sure to stay on the safe side and get my usual vanilla.”

Even as the discussion drifted forward, the viscount’s ‘safe side’ remained with Penelope.

After all, was she not doing the very same thing? She clung to the safe choice of potentially marrying Lord Gloushire rather than taking a risk with someone more excitable or appealing to her.

Her eyes fell to her own bowl.

Iced vanilla was far from the most exciting flavor, but at least it served its purpose of pacifying one’s hunger in a cooling manner.

Iced vanilla isn’t so bad... she silently remarked, scanning Lord Gloushire’s face.

In the back of her mind, she could hear His Grace’s voice disagree with her assessment. He was probably the sort to order a different flavor every time he visited the ice parlor.

If Lord Gloushire is vanilla, what flavor would His Grace be? Penelope sighed, slowly playing with the tiny ice mound that remained in her bowl.

Perhaps iced lemon. She chuckled to herself. As he is both a sweet and a sour companion.

Regrettably, the duke wasn’t present to approve or refute her conclusion, but knowing him, he’d likely argue against her for the sake of doing so.

Once everyone had had their fill and Lord Gloushire declared that it was now time to go home, he was met with whiny protests from both of his children.

“Please, Father?” Lucy whined, “We’re having so much fun!”

“Yes, dearest, but I’m afraid that I still have some urgent errands to run,” he grimaced, “and Ladies Punton and Penelope need to go about the rest of their day as well.”

“We could watch them on your behalf if you like, Lord Gloushire,” Mother suddenly offered.

Penelope looked at her in surprise—it wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy spending time with the children, but it was the first time in months that Mother had decided against rushing straight home.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you both, Lady Punton.” The viscount waved a sheepish hand. “I’ve taken more than enough of your time already.”

“It’s no bother,” Penelope piped up. “Perhaps you can drop us at the park for a short stroll and then come collect us once you’re done with your errands.”

“Yes! The park! Let’s go to the park!” Reggie exclaimed.

“Are you absolutely sure, Lady Penelope?” he double-checked with worried eyebrows. “These rascals can be quite the handful.”

“I’ll have Mother here to help,” Penelope answered. “My only request is that you leave a footman at our disposal in case anything comes up.”

The viscount’s hazel eyes flitted around the table between his children’s pleading eyes to Penelope and Mother’s reassuring ones.

After a moment, he acquiesced with a limp smile. “Very well, then, to Brydon Park we go.”

As they rose from their chairs, he immediately scooped Reggie up in his arms once more and held onto Lucy with his other hand.

Penelope raised an amused eyebrow as she realized that this time he appeared to be doing so because he needed to stop them from scampering off down the street rather than because he wanted to be affectionate.

After allowing the children to board first, the viscount extended a hand towards Penelope to help her up onto the coach. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered to her as she ascended the steps.

“There’s no need,” she whispered back. “They’re wonderful.”

Brydon Park was just a short trip away and soon enough, Lord Gloushire was reminding his children to behave themselves with Penelope and Mother.

“I won’t be long,” he promised—though it was unclear whether he was assuring his children or their keepers for today. “I shall do my best to be back in two hours or less.”

Fueled by the ices they had just consumed, the children eagerly pointed toward the water fountains and begged to get closer.

And how could she possibly deny such an innocent request?

“Don't touch the water!” she gently warned as Reggie attempted to lean forward into the fountain, earning a hurt look from the little boy.

“Sometimes the birds and other animals use it to take baths,” she added, hoping he would understand.

The small boy let out a disappointed huff as he settled his chin against the fountain’s stony edge, contenting himself with simply observing the water’s shiny surface.

In the meantime, Mother carefully trailed behind Lucy, whose fascination was now captured by the colorful, blossoming flowerbeds.

“Don’t wander too far!” Penelope called after them, but the young girl didn’t seem to hear them.

Hoping she would have better luck with the younger child instead, Penelope extended a hand towards him, “Reggie, why don't we go have fun with Lucy? Hmm?”

But the boy stubbornly shook his head and returned to remaining transfixed by the water.

“Could you please go make sure they’re all right?” Penelope asked the footman that Lord Gloushire had left with them.

“Right away, Lady Penelope.”

As the footman chased after them, Penelope tried once more to persuade Reggie in case the others began to get too far away.

“Reggie...” she cooed once again, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. But to her surprise, the boy aggressively shook her hand away.

Taking a step backward, Penelope worried that she had upset the child in some way. “Is something wrong, Reggie?”

But the boy refused to face her, choosing instead to focus on the surface of the water as he sulked. Bewildered by the suddenness of the change in his mood, Penelope thought it best to let the boy do as he pleased for now.

Her plan seemed to work just fine until she noticed a few minutes later that he was sniffling. “Reggie...” she cautiously began again, “is there anything I can do to help?”

The boy shook his head, wiping his tears on the back of his hands. Digging into her reticule for her handkerchief, she lowered herself and attempted to bring the cloth to the child’s face, but he squirmed at her touch and began to shriek.

Penelope raised a panicked finger to her lips. “Reggie! Please don’t cry,” she begged, using her other hand to bring the handkerchief closer to his face. “Here, let me-”

With another ear-piercing wail, strangers and passersby began to whisper and stare.

Penelope began to feel the sting of her own tears in her eyes as the embarrassment and frustration at her own ineptitude and inexperience began to overwhelm her.

But just as the dam was about to break, Mother swooped in—seemingly out of nowhere—and began pacifying the boy, wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

“What happened?” Mother asked over her shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Penelope swallowed, “I merely suggested that we follow after you both and then he-”

“He probably wants Mother,” explained a wide-eyed Lucy, “She really liked sitting next to these fountains.”

Penelope nodded slowly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lucy.” She cupped the little girl’s hands to squeeze them. “May I ask how long it has been since your mother passed away?”

“Ten months,” the girl answered quietly, her gaze fixed on her teary-eyed brother. “I miss her too.”

“Of course you do.” Penelope pulled her into a hug, unsure of what else to say except to simply repeat how sorry she was for her loss.