Page 35

CHAPTER 34

“I was just about to knock,” Penelope blurted out despite knowing full well that she had been standing outside his door for the past five minutes mustering the courage to knock.

“Is there anything I can help with?” asked the duke, his voice sounding a tad more strained than usual. But Penelope could not blame him, of course.

She was probably the last person he wanted to see right now. And she thought the feeling was mutual until they returned from Willowdale Manor an hour ago and Penelope began double-checking her luggage and scanning her room to ensure nothing got left behind in preparation for tomorrow’s departure.

It had been going well until her eyes landed on the empty spot where the armchair had once been the very first night she had let Duncan into her room, the same armchair that she had attempted to send into storage, but which he sent back, arguing with her until finally it was moved to the library downstairs.

The next thing she knew, her feet were carrying her to the duke’s office’s door.

“Can I come in?” was the only response she had for his question. “Please?”

He eyed her from head to toe, his expression far too stoic for Penelope’s liking. For a moment it appeared as though he would turn her away. But mercifully, he gave her a shallow nod before stepping aside so she could step through the doorway.

“Usually, it’s me who shows up unannounced and asking to be let in,” the duke amusedly remarked, closing the door behind them. “It’s nice to have the favor returned for once.”

Penelope couldn’t help but smile, how typical of him to still be so composed and together while she was on the verge of falling apart.

He crossed the room to sit at his desk, but Penelope was more interested in the sofa near the window, resting her hands on her knees once she had carefully sunk down onto it.

The duke eyed her from his spot. As gentlemanly as ever, he was waiting for her to start—to set the tone and pace for the discussion—so Penelope obliged, “I shouldn’t have said all those things to you that night.”

“Why not?” his words punctuated by the absent-minded drumming of his fingers on the desk. “You were right... about many things.”

“But not everything?”

“No,” he cleared his throat. “In truth, it was my fear of hurting you—not the fear of getting hurt myself—that spurred my actions. I wish I had clarified it that night.”

There was a finality in his tone that confirmed what Penelope had been dreading: it was too late. Almost as though he was saying that if only things had gone differently that night, then maybe—just maybe—they wouldn’t be sitting here like this.

“I wish I hadn’t relied on you so much this past Season,” Penelope sighed, allowing her head to roll back onto the sofa’s backrest. “Perhaps then you wouldn’t have deemed me so fragile.”

She tilted her head slightly, shifting her gaze from the ceiling back to him. “I just wish you had told me sooner.”

He stood from his desk, long legs crossing towards her before settling on the other end of the sofa. “A part of me wishes so too. But who’s to say that you would have accepted me if I did?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You could hardly stand me when we first met.”

“You were the same with me!” Penelope retorted, slamming a palm against the plush of the sofa since he was sitting out of her reach.

She let out a small gasp upon fully understanding his words. “Wait... do you mean to say that you were enamored with me from the start?”

“Don’t let it get to your head now,” he snapped back at her with a familiar cheeky brusqueness, before exhaling softly through his nose,

“But yes, I have always thought you were beautiful. Though it was later...” he made an exaggerative gesture with both of his hands, “much, much, much later when I realized that you were equally as wonderful and beautiful on the inside as well.”

Penelope feigned annoyance at the backhanded compliment. “I was just about to say the same for you, but I fear if your ego grows any bigger, you shall need a separate sack to carry it with you wherever you go.”

He threw his head back in giddy, unrestrained laughter at the remark, an intoxicating sound that Penelope drunk as much as she could, not knowing whether today would be her last chance to hear it.

“God help your imminent husband,” the duke sighed with a smile. “If I liked Gloushire a bit more, I would pray that he doesn’t suffer the same fate as I—a man completely undone.”

“And what about me?” Penelope returned his sigh. “What about my fate as a woman doomed to be forever haunted by you?”

The tension in the air grew heavy as he slid closer to her, the sides of his knees stopping just a few inches away from her own, giving her an opportunity to leave or push him away if she wished.

But she did not wish to do so. Remaining completely still, save for her right hand’s fingers digging into the sofa, anchoring her lest she fall over or crumble under the weight of his gaze.

“Do you truly mean it?” his gruff voice rumbled, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes.” Penelope swallowed, finding herself completely unable to look away from his powerful gaze. “No matter how hard I try, no matter where I go, or where I look, there you are.”

She studied his expression as she spoke, hungry for the way his features twitched as her words seemed to bring him both pain and pleasure.

It took a moment for her to realize that their faces were inching closer together almost of their own accord.

“You were so painfully right about me being a selfish bastard,” he rasped, their noses and lips so close that it would only take a slight breeze to knock them together. “Tell me, what exactly about me haunts you in those moments?”

“Your voice,” Penelope answered without hesitation. “Sometimes your eyes and the way that you roll them whenever I tease you.”

“But not my lips?” he exhaled.

Penelope’s eyes fell to them at his remark and noted that they were flushed a pleasant pink as they hung slightly parted and with an upward tilt at the corners.

She watched in fascination as his lips moved again, not even waiting for her to answer his last question when a second one fell, “Can I... have just one more kiss? Please ?”

Penelope couldn’t trust her voice, so she answered him with a wordless nod instead.

Like the first one they had shared, this kiss was also unbearably tender.

But unlike the first, this one had none of the uncertainty and shaky fervor that coursed through them in the kitchen when they had desperately tried to get each other to understand the muddled emotions their words couldn’t convey.

Instead, this kiss was fuller, slower, and conveyed one solitary, clear message: goodbye.

* * *

“There!” Mother lightly tugged the shoulder of Penelope’s sleeve, adjusting it slightly, audibly fighting back a sob. “You’re perfect! And we even have a few minutes to spare.”

Penelope did her best to smile at her reflection in the mirror. But it was still nowhere near as bright as the smile that Mother wore.

“It's all right to be nervous, darling,” Mother cooed, pulling her into a hug from the side whilst taking care to avoid creasing Penelope’s dress or disturbing her hair in the process. “But to help with your nerves, just think of today as the beginning of all the wonderful things that await you and Lord Gloushire.”

Penelope squeezed Mother’s hand in thanks. Using the rest of her concentration to hold back the sob that threatened to break free from her throat.

She found herself unable to speak even when the servants wished her well and complimented her endlessly as she descended the steps and carefully made her way to the front door.

The next time Penelope found her voice was when she mumbled a short thanks to Mr. Rowley as he helped her climb onto the coach.

But she lost her voice once again when her eyes landed on His Grace watching her from the front doorway. Offering nothing but a small smile before turning his back on her to return indoors.

If it hadn’t been for their encounter yesterday, the sight would have been enough to tear Penelope’s heart right out of her chest.

But their goodbye kiss prepared her for this, having put an end to any hopes that her heart had ever harbored about being with him. The kiss served as a final bookend on the long and messy shelf that had been their friendship and infatuation.

Now they were both ready to move on, fresh slates and all.

* * *

“Duncan!” Mother’s muffled voice called through the door, “Are you sure you aren’t coming, dear? Just throw on your best coat and-”

“No, thank you, Mother,” Duncan called back, leaning fully back in his chair as he lazily sloshed the drink in his glass. “Unfortunately, I have quite a lot to do today.”

The door handle to his office turned and Mother’s angry head poked through. “Is that it, then?” She pushed the door to open it more fully. “You intend to simply sit there while Lady Penelope walks into Lord Gloushire’s arms?”

Duncan had been expecting a scolding, of course—but not about this.

“What do you mea-”

“You can drop the facade, Duncan,” Mother drily cut him off. “My eyesight may not be what it used to be, but even I can see the way you two look at each other. Now are you absolutely certain this is what you want? Because your time is about to run out, my darling.”

Duncan set down his glass and straightened up in his chair, “Lady Penelope and I have actually already discussed it, Mother. It's far too late now. It’ll be easier and better for everyone’s sakes for her to marry Glou-”

“In what sense exactly?” Mother folded her arms. “Are you afraid of causing a scandal for her? Since when did you care about such things, Duncan?”

“Well, that was one factor, yes, but also the pain of-” he looked down at his glass, “Gloushire is a much more... predictable partner. The risk of him hurting her is far lower than-”

“Next excuse, please.” Mother rolled her eyes. “Because I know you would never hurt Lady Penelope, Duncan, no matter what other people may assume of you. Since when have you ever doubted your abilities, Duncan?”

“It's still too late,” Duncan insisted, his leg now bouncing from the tension. “It’s for the best anyway, like I said all those years ago, if should I die before her—or heavens forbid—vice versa, the pain would be completely unbearable anyway. I mean just look at what happened to you, even to Lady Punto-”

He cut himself off when he noticed Mother looking around the room.

“What are you looking for?” he raised an eyebrow.

“For a cane,” she retorted. “I have half a mind to smack your hands for being such a half-wit!” Mother shook her head. “Duncan, I will always thank Providence for giving me a son who took excellent care of me when your father died. But I fear that your focus on the pain has blinded you to all the joy that your father gave me.”

“No, of course not. I just mean why open yourself up to the possibility in the first place? How can you feel the joy knowing that it will all eventually end in pain? That at any moment it could end?”

“I would do it again, you know,” his mother answered, adjusting her shawl as she turned to leave. “Losing your father was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but I would gladly endure it a thousand times over even for but a taste of the joy that we shared.”

His mother reached for the door handle, pausing to add, “The people we love, Duncan, are always worth the risk of pain.”

* * *

Penelope kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, pleading with her legs to help carry her to the altar without causing a fuss. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see heads turn and skirts shift toward her as she walked down the aisle.

By some miracle, she somehow managed to ascend the steps and arrive at the altar to stand before Lord Gloushire, who silently welcomed her with a timid smile. As the priest began to speak, Penelope allowed her eyes to drift to the first row of pews where Lucy and Reggie sat in their Sunday best with their hands neatly folded on their laps.

This isn’t so bad... she soothed herself. In fact, this is actually rather nice. Yes, this could work as long as I-

“Penelope, don’t!” a booming voice echoed harshly across the chapel’s walls, “Don’t you dare!”

Penelope knew who it was even before she turned to look.

“Your Grace?” she whispered breathlessly as the familiar figure bolted down the aisle towards them, only sliding to a halt at the bottom of the altar’s stairs.

Necks craned and whispers and gasps rang out from their guests—including, Penelope noted, Graystone.

“Blackmoore!” exclaimed Lord Gloushire. “What the devil do you think you’re-”

“Shut it, Gloushire. I’m not here for you,” the duke panted, his hair a windswept mess a clear sign that he had ridden here on horseback rather than in a coach. “You can't marry him, Lady Pen.” His eyes looked up at her, “I- I was a coward and a fool, I see that now! Please, please don’t marry him!”

Penelope’s lips quivered as her anger, happiness, and bewilderment coursed through her. “But you- Wh-What would I even-”

“Marry me.” The phrase fell from his lips almost as easily as the next one. “Marry me instead because I love you, Penelope.”

She suddenly found herself unable to breathe as her eyes began to well up. And yet the insufferable man kept going. “I'm selfish and stupid and utterly unworthy of you, but I do love you. And I’ve already royally botched everything between us, but if you’ll let me—if you’ll have me—I swear that I’ll spend every moment of the rest of our lives making it up to you. I’ll always-”

Penelope didn’t know when it happened, but she found herself practically leaping down the altar steps, where he immediately wrapped her up in his arms.

“Is that a yes?” he grinned, cocking an eyebrow up at her.

“You’re absolutely insufferable,” she huffed, landing a soft punch on his broad chest. “But yes, I love you to-”

Her confession is cut short abruptly with a kiss. And despite the uproar in the church filling her ears, Penelope can’t help but think this is certainly their best kiss yet.