Page 62 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

Right. So. Not inclined to horses. Not inclined to history. Not inclined to goats nor to him.

He ran a hand through his hair, vaguely aware he was getting paint on his temple. “You know,” he muttered, half to himself, “I was considered rather charming in Scotland.”

Penelope gave him a long look then went back to her painting.

Ramsay rubbed at his jaw. He was getting the distinct impression he was being studied and dismissed in the same breath.

The door creaked open behind him.

He stood almost immediately. “Eleanor.”

Her eyes moved from him to Penelope then back again, taking in the small, defeated hunch of his shoulders and the purple streak on her face. “How long have you been trying?”

“An eternity,” he said gravely.

Penelope made a small sound, too quiet to be a laugh, too loud to be an accident.

Eleanor crossed the room, her smile patient. “May I?”

The girl nodded.

Eleanor crouched beside her, lowering herself onto the rug without complaint, skirts spreading around her like a calm sea.

Ramsay watched the way Penelope leaned toward her almost at once, how her hand stopped shaking when Eleanor touched her wrist. He tried not to let it wound him, but it did.

“You’re painting Melpomene again?” Eleanor asked gently.

“She needs new wings,” Penelope murmured. “She fell.”

“Fell?” Ramsay echoed, keeping his voice soft. “Is she all right?”

The girl’s brush paused mid-air. Her fingers curled tightly around the handle.

“She was… riding. And then she wasn’t. She hit her head.”

Ramsay stilled. Eleanor met his eyes.

Eleanor stood and walked over, kneeling beside Penelope with practiced ease. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “do you not like horses?”

Penelope’s brush stilled.

She didn’t look up, but she said, voice very small, “They’re too big.”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Ramsay.

His jaw flexed. He stepped forward and crouched beside them, bracing one hand on his knee. “Did something happen?”

Penelope shrugged. “I fell.”

Eleanor’s expression softened. “Were you hurt?”

Penelope gave the tiniest nod.

“Was this in Greece?” Ramsay asked.

Another nod.

He exhaled, slow and quiet. The room suddenly felt smaller. “A big horse?”