Page 57 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

“Does he now?”

Penelope nodded. “He said I’m already very good at it.”

Eleanor bit back a smile. “Well, I suppose we’ll make a fine trio then.”

Penelope dipped her brush in red. “Were you scared?”

“Of what?”

“Of marrying him.”

Eleanor hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but neither did she want to place weight where there should be none.

“I was nervous,” she admitted. “But sometimes, when we’re about to do something important—something that could change everything—it’s normal to be a little scared. It doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Penelope was quiet again. Her little hand moved slowly, painting careful circles.

“Will you still want to be my other mother,” she asked finally, “if I get cross sometimes?”

Eleanor leaned over and dabbed a bit of blue beside the red. “Of course.”

“Even if I throw things?”

“We’ll work on that.”

Penelope giggled.

“And you know,” Eleanor added, “new parents—other parents—we’re still learning, too. We’re not perfect.”

The girl looked up. “You don’t know how to be a mother?”

“I know some things,” Eleanor said. “But I’ve never been your mother before. I’ll need help. I’ll need you to tell me when I get something wrong.”

“Like if you put raisins in the porridge?”

“Exactly.”

Penelope nodded, very solemn. “That’s terrible.”

“I’m relieved to know where we stand on porridge.”

A pause. Then, carefully, Eleanor added, “And your uncle? He’s learning, too.”

Penelope’s nose scrunched. “He’s very bad at it.”

“Yes,” Eleanor agreed. “But he’s trying.”

The girl didn’t respond.

“If he does something you don’t like,” Eleanor said, dipping her brush again, “you can tell him. Kindly, of course, but clearly. He’s a bit like a wolf—big and growly and not always good with feelings. But he listens.”

Penelope tilted her head. “Really?”

“Really. He’s already changed his mind once this week. That’s nearly a miracle.”

The child considered that. “Should I make a list?”

“A list?”