Page 7

CHAPTER 6

“T o be clear, do you intend to ignore me for the entirety of this promenade? Because if so, you’re wasting precious time that we simply can’t spare.”

Penelope simply lifted her chin higher. She didn’t care if doing so risked attracting attention from the other Brydon Park visitors because she needed to let His Grace know that he had crossed a line.

When she returned to her room after their discussion at the breakfast table, she discovered that the ‘present’ he had alluded to was the return of the armchair that she had asked the servants to put away, plus a second armchair crammed in next to it for good measure.

Naturally, she confronted him about this at once. And upon doing so she learned that His Grace and his friends happened to run into the servants as they attempted to put the armchair in the attic and decided that perhaps if one wasn’t enough to please her, then two ought to do the trick.

After much debate, both armchairs were eventually removed from her room. But even so, Penelope announced that she no longer had any intention of joining him and the dowager duchess for a promenade.

But when they informed her that they had somehow managed to convince Mother to agree to promenade with them, well, Penelope could hardly say ‘no’ then, could she?

Presently, she looked over her shoulder and found Mother and the dowager duchess contentedly meandering behind her and His Grace.

In the meantime, His Grace endeavored to get her to break her silence, but he was also clearly losing patience. “Very well, then! But don’t expect me to answer your questions about any potential suitors you might be interested in today.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, content to stroll with silence for the remainder of their promenade.

Besides, even if I ‘waste’ today’s opportunity, there’s still tomorrow, she assured herself.

But just as they came towards the central collection of water fountains, Penelope locked eyes with a familiar face and waved giddily.

Jerome Campbell—Earl of Graystone—jogged up to them wearing a giant grin. “A very good afternoon, fair Lady Penny!”

“Jerry Gray!” Penelope exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Aren’t you supposed to be running up some mountain in Scotland?”

“Up until last week, I was, actually!” His smile faded to be replaced with a somber expression. “I’m so sorry for missing the funeral, Pen.”

“It’s quite all right.” She pursed her lips. “The church was already overflowing as it was. Besides,” she tilted her head, “if you had shown up in that state, you’d have received a stern scolding from Father’s ghost.”

Her friend shuddered. “You jest, but your father might have actually done it though.”

“What did he threaten you with that one time?” Penelope giggled. “Oh yes! That he was going to harvest-”

“-harvest my hair to make a new broom.” Jerry chuckled, “It worked though, I ran straight home and demanded that my father take me to get my hair cut to ensure your dad wouldn’t benefit from it.”

“Graystone!” Mother called from behind them, pulling him in for a hug. “Good heavens! Did they run out of food in Scotland? You’re all skin and bone!” she exclaimed, pinching his cheek.

The irony of this remark coming from Mother given the state of her own eating habits was not lost on Penelope.

“Lady Punton...” Jerry groaned, playfully rolling his eyes.

But Mother paid little mind to his complaint, taking him by the arm and adding, “I’m certain you remember Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore, and her son—the Duke of Blackmoore.”

“But of course!” Jerry bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Graces! I believe my father was acquainted with the late Duke of Blackmoore, that is, before your family moved away from Pelshead.”

“Why, of course!” replied the dowager duchess. “You were only about this high when we sold that estate, which—I believe —was around when Duncan started at Winsling Academy.”

After several minutes of pleasantries, Jerome asked Penelope if they could speak more privately. With Mother’s approval, they chose a bench in front of one of the fountains—in full view of their chaperones.

Leaning on his palms he asked, “Did you get my last letter or have I somehow managed to arrive before it?”

Penelope shook her head. “Haven’t received it yet, I’m afraid. Why? Any exciting news?”

“Not really.” His expression grew more serious. “It was a response to everything you said about...” he lowered his voice and scanned their surroundings, “...the situation with your Uncle Winston.”

Even just hearing that wretched monster’s name immediately caused her shoulders to drop. “Yes... that situation.”

Jerome twiddled his thumbs. “You didn’t mention it in your letter, but I feel like you already know what must be done.” After a sharp inhale, he looked straight into her eyes and stated matter-of-factly, “You need... a husband, Pen.”

“She’ll have one soon enough,” boomed a voice behind them.

“Your Grace!” Penelope jolted upright, a hand on her chest as she flashed him an irritated look. “With all due respect—which is very little, mind you—this conversation is none of your business.”

“You dropped this,” the duke returned, his hand holding out Penelope’s fan—which she accepted, “and now that it is safely in your possession again, you two are free to gossip to your hearts’ content.”

After this interruption was dealt with, Penelope had the chance to explain that she and Jerry had arrived at the same conclusion and that she was currently in the process of executing the plan while staying at Blackmoore Manor.

“I’ll help out as much as I can,” Jerry assured her. “Not that you’ll need it, of course.” He winked. “In the few minutes we’ve sat here, you’ve turned heads already.”

Penelope punched his arm. “Thank you, Gray—not for the blatant lie dressed up as a compliment—but for being so willing to help.”

“Of course.” Jerry helped her up off the bench. “But I hope you’re properly safeguarding yourself from all monsters.” He discreetly nodded in the duke’s direction.

“I am,” Penelope assured him, “but he’s less a ‘monster’ and more a thorn in one’s side.”

Jerry immediately clicked his tongue in objection, “Whatever you want to call him, the fact is he devours and destroys, Penny.” Jerome looked her straight in the eyes. “Promise me you'll never let your guard down.”

“Of course, Gray. I promise.”

Shortly thereafter, he departed from them with a spoken invitation to dine at Blackmoore Manor soon.

About seven minutes after resuming their promenade, Penelope realized that the duke hadn’t done anything to annoy her, which was most uncharacteristic of him.

Her curiosity thus prompted her to set aside her intentions of ignoring him for the promenade.

“I knew you would tire yourself out eventually,” she grinned.

“Hmm?”

“Similar to how parents allow their children to expend all their energy,” Penelope explained. “Now you have none left to bother me with.”

The duke stretched his arms above him. “I’m merely enjoying a relaxing stroll to the park since you appear to have concluded the husband hunt yourself. Though I would warn against deciding too hastily for-”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Your Grace. What on earth are you rambling about now?”

He let out a dry laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, growing more irritated by the second.

“Please...” He rolled his eyes. “How much of an imbecile do you take me for?” He lowered his voice to mimic Jerome’s. “ ‘You need a husband, Pen.’ ”

So sudden was the disbelief that overcame Penelope that she stopped dead in her tracks.

“He wasn’t offering to become my husband, Your Grace,” she explained, incredulous that she had to do so at all. “Jerry’s happily engaged to Lady Isabelle, Lord Riverton’s daughter.”

He blinked at her upon hearing this, also stopping in his tracks. But his typically stoic expression returned once more as he spun on his heel and quickened his pace. “Is that so? I must have missed the paper that day.”

Penelope tilted her head in confusion and opened her mouth to ask him to elaborate. But then she remembered that most of the duke’s actions didn’t make sense to her anyway. As a result, by the time she had caught up to him, she had already resigned herself to dropping the matter entirely.

“I need to gain a clearer understanding of what you’re looking for,” His Grace muttered under his breath. “Tell me who you recognize here and what appeals to you most about them.”

Her cheeks grew pink, which he must have noticed because he instantly assured her, “We're not jumping straight into choosing candidates. This is more to see what characteristics you want to prioritize.”

With this, Penelope examined the families, friends, and courting couples around them on this breezy April day.

“Well... I always thought Lord Crowsbrook was very nice,” she beamed.

The duke shook his head. “He’s certainly a good man, but aim higher. I thought you wanted someone who could afford to take in both you and your mother?”

“And I thought you said we were simply examining people’s characteristics ?” she fired back.

He held up both hands innocently. “I’m only trying to refine your thought process. Who else?”

Penelope tapped her chin in thought. “Oh! See, someone like Lord Clayspeak would be nice. Obviously, he already has a wife, even so, he’s both kind and well-to-do, so a similar gentleman would be-”

“-would be too weak-minded,” the duke drily cut her off. “Who else?”

Penelope carefully pondered over her next choice, not very thrilled with how His Grace was so readily snubbing each one. But then she snapped her fingers. “The Earl of Bellfrost! Admittedly, he’s not here right now. But I’ve heard-”

“No,” snarled the duke.

“Why?” Penelope returned smugly. “Because you can’t find anything wrong with him to complain about?”

When the duke didn’t answer, she shot him a glance to prompt him but only found his jaw clenched as he looked straight ahead.

“No,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “And I think it's time we drew this exercise to a close, Lady Pen.” His expression softened. “You’ve given me much to think about.”

And he did indeed appear to think over it deeply because even when they ran into other acquaintances, even when they concluded the promenade, and even when they arrived home, he appeared to be lost in thought.

As she climbed the stairs, she stole one last glance at him as he handed Mr. Rowley his coat in the entryway.

A most interesting man indeed.