Page 6

CHAPTER 5

P enelope kicked her sheets off of her. The ball had completely exhausted her. But for whatever reason, she had an irritatingly shallow sleep the entire night.

As she rubbed her eyes, they landed on the very armchair that His Grace had so unabashedly dropped himself into hours ago, immediately prompting her to roll onto her other side.

It’s not because of him, she told herself. It's only natural that I would struggle to fall asleep on the first night away from home.

Now that she was lying facing this side, she could see from the clock that it was about a quarter past ten. Given the late night they had all had, it would be excusable for her to lie in for another hour or so.

But given her restless night, forcing herself to lie still for the next hour sounded like torture.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to get ready for the day. But as she walked to the dresser, the cursed armchair loomed in the corner of her eye once more, prompting her to wonder if the duke had already left to start his day.

That’s it! She grabbed the armchair and began pushing it towards the door. His presence alone was torturous enough, but now even his absence is affecting me!

Once the armchair was halfway through her door, she checked the hallway to see if anyone was around to-

“Oh, good morning!” She greeted a pair of maids dusting the console table and its contents. “I know this is a most peculiar request, but I was hoping to free up some room. Is there someone I can talk to about safely putting this armchair away for the remainder of our stay?”

With the cursed piece finally out of her room, she was already breathing easier. But before heading to breakfast, she paid Mother’s room a visit in the hopes that her first slumber away from home had been more restful.

“Mother?” Penelope softly knocked. “Are you awake?”

No response, as usual.

To be safe, Penelope decided not to attempt to let herself in—just in case Mother was only just now getting some proper sleep.

As she walked downstairs, she ran into Mr. Rowley.

After greeting the butler, she inquired, “Did my mother take her dinner last night, Mr. Rowley?”

“She did indeed, Lady Penelope,” he answered.

“But did she eat well?” She fidgeted with the pendant around her neck.

“One hesitates to comment on such matters, Lady Penelope. But unfortunately, Lady Punton touched very little of her portions.”

I knew it.

Penelope sighed. “And for breakfast?”

“Lady Punton hasn’t rung for breakfast yet, I’m afraid.” The butler pursed his lips sympathetically. “Though such an aversion to food is not out of place for those in grief.”

“So they say.” Penelope smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Rowley. Will you please inform me once she’s awake?”

“Certainly, Lady Penelope.”

She continued to the morning room, where she found the dowager duchess breaking fast by herself, the morning paper lying untouched at her elbow.

“Already up and about, Lady Penelope?” chirped the older woman. “Well, I’ve never had a daughter, so I have no clue how quickly they can recover from a ball.”

“But surely you remember your days as a debutante, Your Grace,” Penelope chuckled.

“Heavens! That was so long ago I fear reaching so far into my memories will knock me out on the spot!” the older woman joked, before gasping. “Speaking of poor memory, I almost forgot, how’s your ankle, darling?”

“In truth, I had almost completely forgotten it myself,” Penelope replied, as a pang of guilt struck her heart.

I mean, it’s still somewhat true. Penelope looked down at her plate. I simply neglected to mention that the reason I had forgotten about it was because it wasn’t a real injury.

The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence, but Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that Her Grace was watching her.

Sure enough, as she lifted her teacup to her lips, she immediately met the dowager duchess’ gaze.

“Is something wrong, Your Grace?” Penelope’s heartbeat quickened, worried that the older woman suspected her of lying after all.

“I wanted to ask you the very same thing,” came the kind reply. “Once again, I’ve never had a daughter, but I doubt the crumbs you’re inhaling are enough to keep up your strength.”

Confused, Penelope looked down at her plate and realized that she too had been unintentionally mirroring her mother’s own lack of appetite.

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “I suppose I could have another slice of toast and butter... and perhaps an egg.”

The dowager duchess lowered her cutlery and dabbed her lips with a napkin. “If you don’t mind me asking, pet, is this because of your father or your mother?”

She widened her eyes in response, pleasantly surprised by how insightful her host was. “In truth, Your Grace, I suppose I’m more worried about Mother than anything else.”

“I thought so.” The other woman nodded. “When we were younger, your mother was quite the morning person. So, you can imagine my surprise when I found out from Rowley that she has yet to leave her room at all today.”

“I’m afraid the grief has practically paralyzed her, Your Grace,” Penelope confessed. “I’ve tried to help, but nothing seems to be working.”

The dowager duchess reached out to gently pat her on the hand. “You’ve already done everything you can, pet. The rest is up to Providence and time to heal.”

Penelope let out a disappointed exhale. “Of course, I too miss Father. But that’s different because he was actually a quite loving parent!”

“Are you implying that he wasn’t a loving husband?”

Penelope hesitated to answer for a moment but then remembered the closeness shared between the dowager duchess and Mother. Besides, someone so averse to gossip was unlikely to go around announcing whatever Penelope told her.

“He was... to an extent,” she mumbled. “He was kind, diligent, and generous, but he wasn’t... loyal.”

The dowager duchess nodded. “Ah yes, I believe your mother mentioned an incident in one of her letters many years ago.”

“There were many more incidents,” Penelope added through gritted teeth. “After everything he put her through, I sometimes wonder how she can find it in her heart to mourn him so deeply.”

Her Grace sat back in her chair contemplatively. “I still remember when your father first started courting her,” she smiled, “With the tenderness he showed, none of us could have imagined he would turn out that way. But I do believe that no matter what transgressions he committed, he always reserved a special place for your mother.”

“Perhaps.” Penelope acquiesced, her eyes welling up. “But it would be better for everyone’s sake if she would just forget him and the pain he brought as quickly as possible.”

“But how can she do that when she was married to him for almost thirty years?” reasoned the older woman. “I’m sorry, my pet, but speaking as a widow myself, I can safely say it will probably be years before she feels any semblance of normalcy return once more.”

Penelope clenched her fists. Everything that Her Grace was saying was perfectly reasonable and sensible. But it was unbearable to think that Mother still had several years’ worth of heartbreak ahead of her.

“Or perhaps she won’t have years left,” Penelope fretted out loud. “I thought she was getting better these last few days, but now she’s back to barely touching a morsel.”

“I’m afraid the roadway out of grief is meandering and torturous,” answered the dowager duchess. “In my case, it seemed like the grief would come and go in waves. People are very complicated, pet.”

She reached for Penelope’s hand once more. “But don’t worry, your mother will get better, especially if we have anything to say about it, yes?”

Penelope mumbled a quiet thank you, grateful to have someone to share the burden with.

But a loud thump above them disrupted their heartfelt moment. The two women shot each other concerned looks. A few moments later, the sounds of a scuffle and commotion came from the staircase.

“Give it back!” the duke’s voice called out.

Both women rose from their chairs to see what was happening, but before they could take a step, a tangle of arms and legs burst through the door and rolled onto the floor.

“Let go!” exclaimed the red-haired gentleman. “This is your penance for lying to us!”

Another gentleman with dark hair appeared in the doorway but seemed in no hurry to stop the brawl.

The dowager duchess cleared her throat, halting the fight in its tracks. Both men immediately shot up, straightening their clothes and hair. Penelope suddenly recognized that the man His Grace had been struggling with was none other than the Duke of Fairhaven, yet another bachelor of questionable repute.

“Shame on you both for behaving like children first thing in the morning!” Her Grace glared. “And in front of our guest, no less! This is highly unacceptable!”

“I couldn't agree more, Mother. But if only it weren’t for this imbecile-” the Duke of Blackmoore elbowed his companion in the side.

“I want to hear no excuses!” tutted Her Grace. “And what could possibly be worth this disturbance in the first place?”

Both men lowered their heads before the Duke of Fairhaven sheepishly held up a boot.

Before she could stop herself, Penelope let out a snort, earning a deadly glare from the Duke of Blackmoore.

“I intended to confiscate it to teach him a lesson, Your Grace,” the red-haired duke bleated. “For you see, last night, he tricked us into-”

“I don’t want any excuses from you either, Fairhaven!” boomed the dowager duchess, turning to the doorway, she continued, “and what are you smiling about, Harlington? I expected better from you.”

This stern telling off immediately wiped the grin off of the dark-haired gentleman’s face.

“We’re very sorry, Your Grace,” the Duke of Blackmoore’s friends mumbled.

“Apology accepted, but only just barely,” the older woman snapped. “For the disruption you’ve caused, I shan’t offer you breakfast. Be on your way now!”

With that, the two men bade everyone a good morning and bound out the door.

“I’m so very sorry about all of that, pet,” the dowager duchess turned to her, hands still on her hips, “but I’m afraid I've been fighting a losing battle against their mischief since they were schoolchildren.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Your Grace.” Penelope grinned. “With all due respect, His Grace’s friends seemed exactly as I would imagine them.”

“And what, pray tell, do you mean by that ?” The duke raised an eyebrow, taking his seat at the head of the table.

“It means she's hardly surprised that a troublemaker like yourself is friends with other troublemakers.” The dowager duchess sighed.

“Hardly!” objected the duke, slicing into his eggs. “Last night I was doing nothing but keeping them out of trouble.”

“Oh really, Your Grace?” Penelope teased. “Because I could have sworn that I thought I saw you in a bit of a scrape in the-”

He shot her a look, halting her mid-sentence.

“In a scrape in the...?” prompted his mother.

“She’s only joking, Mother,” he answered, still not taking his eyes off of Penelope. “By the way, how’s your injury , Lady Pen?”

Now it was Penelope’s turn to narrow her eyes at him.

Mr. Rowley knocked on the door. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Your Grace. But you asked me to remind you about answering Lady Musebridge’s latest correspondence before the afternoon mail gets collected.”

“Oh yes, thank you, Rowley.” Her Grace rose from her seat, and with a stern finger reminded her son, “Behave yourself.”

Once the dowager duchess left them alone, His Grace leaned forward. “Were you just about to double-cross me by mentioning the incident with Lady Jane?”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Penelope folded her arms. “You almost sounded disappointed when you mentioned how you did nothing except oversee your friends last night, so I thought it worthwhile to remind you of some of last night’s highlights.”

He swallowed his food before retorting, “Is that so? Because I’m beginning to get the impression that you weren’t serious about wanting my help after all.”

“I am serious!” she huffed.

“Then it’s time to prove so.” He stretched his hands above his head stifling a yawn. “Thanks to your chosen deadline, we must get to work right away. Let’s go out for a promenade this afternoon.”

Penelope nodded slowly. “Very well, Your Grace. Although, we might have to ask the dowager duchess to fill in for my mother as chaperone.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? Wouldn’t your mother care to join us?”

“At the moment, she doesn’t even care to join us in the waking realm.” Penelope exhaled, keeping her eyes on the table.

But the duke appeared unfazed by this. “Leave it to Mother and me. We shall get her out for the sake of fresh air.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes skeptically. “But how, Your Grace? She won’t even-”

“My family’s always been a most persuasive bunch,” he answered vaguely. “In the meantime, carry on with your day as usual.” He waved her away with one hand while using the other to signal to the maid to retrieve the newspaper from the other end of the table.

With that, Penelope took her leave, but just as she reached the doorway, the duke snapped his fingers as he suddenly remembered, “Ah yes! I hope you like the present I had the servants deliver to your room.”

She tilted her head. “Present?”

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

Great... she groaned, What’s he up to now?