Page 62 of Five Nights with a Rakish Duke
The volume of these words was so loud that the teacups in the saucers practically rang. Asher struggled to know what to say, yet again, the Dowager beat him to it. She sat back down on the settee and picked up her teacup another time.
“Now, tell me all about the lady that has turned your head. Not the one you are courting.”
“You wish to hear about her?” Asher asked in surprise.
“I do,” she said decisively, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Do not leave anything out.”
* * *
“I suppose you have some explanation for bursting into my house in such a way, child,” Veronica said, looking up from the scandal sheet she had been reading and placing her reading spectacles further down her nose. “I know I said my door is always open to you, but you nearly knocked it off the hinges that time.”
“I couldn’t wait to speak to you,” Penelope explained, trying to catch her breath as she closed the door behind her.
When she had woken that morning, her mind had still been a mess. Her body on the other hand could remember what had happened the night before with Asher, and it clearly longed to experience such a thing again as she kept finding herself return to where she had hidden his gift of the necklace in a drawer and running her fingers over it.
Her mind knew she had to find reason somewhere though, and right now, there was only one person who could help her to clear her thoughts. Veronica. Her godmother placed the scandal sheet down on a nearby table and beckoned Penelope forward to take the seat beside her.
“What is wrong?” she asked. “I thought you spent your fourth night with the Duke last night. Are you not pleased it is nearly over?”
“It is the mere fact that it is nearly over that troubles me so,” Penelope said, sitting down and flopping back until her head was resting on the cushions. “Veronica, what have I done?”
“Hmm.” Veronica sat forward, her husky voice humming into the air around them as she looked at Penelope with narrowed eyes. “You do care for the Duke after all, don’t you?”
“Yes, and no,” Penelope answered.
“You best start explaining because that makes no sense at all.”
“Yes, I care for him, but no, it cannot simply be described in such a way.” She suddenly felt a longing to hide. She lifted her hands and covered her face, blocking out the sight of her godmother as she said the words aloud. “I am in love with him, Veronica.”
“Ah… I see.”
“Ah, I see? Is that all you can say?” Penelope said agitatedly, flinging her hands down and sitting on the edge of the seat again.
“Well, I am hardly surprised, so there isn’t much I can say. Calm yourself dear, you’ll give yourself heart trouble otherwise. The physical kind, not the loving kind. Here, sit back; I’ll arrange some tea for us.” Veronica urged her to rest back again before lifting a small silver bell and ringing for the maid. Within minutes, tea had been ordered, and they were left alone in silence again to discuss the predicament. “Most women are overjoyed to find themselves in love.”
“I suppose most women fall in love with people they could marry,” Penelope said miserably. She abruptly felt the threat of tears and sat forward again, blinking as much as she could to keep them at bay.
“Why can you not marry the Duke? He would be an eligible match, and you are both single.”
“He is courting my cousin!”
“Courting is no promise of faithfulness,” Veronica said with a shrug. “Yes, it certainly sets tongues wagging when a courtship is broken off, but such gossip is small in the grand scheme of things. They are quickly forgotten when the partners marry other people. So, why can you not marry the Duke?”
“Because he does not want to marry me,” Penelope said with agitation, swiping a hand at her cheek as one tear escaped, running down her skin. A handkerchief was proffered in front of her eyes seconds later by Veronica, that she eagerly took. “H-he only asked for f-five nights. That’s all he wants from me.” Penelope stammered around the words as the tears took hold of her.
Despite her attempt to fight them off, she failed. Arms came around her, and she was quickly bundled into Veronica’s arms, crying on her shoulder. As she clung to her godmother, while she was grateful for the comfort, she found herself longing for someone else’s comforting embrace.
My father’s.Had he not been lost to this world too soon, then none of this would have happened. Her estates would never have been gambled away into the Duke’s grasp, and she could have been happy with her loving father still around.
The carriage accident that took her father and her uncle would always remain the single most awful point of her life because of the grief and the turmoil her life had been thrown into since.
“What would my f-father say if he could see me now?” she asked miserably, still stammering through her tears. Veronica’s hand came up and brushed her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. “He would be ashamed of what I have done. Appalled.”
“I highly doubt that.” Veronica tapped Penelope’s chin, urging her to lift her head higher as she attempted to dry her tears. “Your father adored you. In case you hadn’t noticed, nothing you did was wrong. Even when you were a child and misbehaved, he was dreadful at giving you any discipline. He usually roped me in for that.”
Penelope smiled through her tears, recalling the happy memories and knowing her godmother was right.
“He would not be ashamed of you, child,” Veronica said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around Penelope’s shoulder and pulling her into her side. “He would be saddened from the position you are in, having lost your estates and so on, but right now… I think I know what he would say.”
