Page 20 of His Wild Duchess
George’s head popped up. “I beg your pardon?”
“For my brother, Owen. I need you to care what they say.”
“That wasn’t a part of our deal.”
Penelope grimaced, crossing her arms. “Neither was attending balls and pretending to be head over heels for you.”
George watched her, the end of his quill brushing against his chin. “I don’t think you have room to bargain, darling.”
That pet name again! Penelope pulled her eyes away, swallowing the blush that threatened to spread across her face and ignoring the anger that bubbled beneath the surface. “If you make me do this, I will make a fool out of myself.”
George narrowed his eyes. His lips parted, but he quickly shut them, shaking his head as though he changed his mind. Opening his books back up, George pulled his attention away from her. “I don’t know what you’re squabbling about,” he muttered. “This is why I married you.”
Penelope bristled.
“If you want your cottage, you need to prove to the Ton that you love me and that I am a perfectly respectable Duke.”
“Splendid,” she mumbled sarcastically. “The easiest job in all of England.”
George snapped a book shut, staring at her irritably. The corner of his lip perked into a humorless smirk. “Perhaps I waited too long and married the wrong sister.”
Her head shot over to him, mouth gaping open. The words stung more than she ever expected them to. While most of the pack still slumbered in Penelope’s bedroom, the mastiffAntony rested beside her feet, lifting his head at the change of atmosphere.
“Perhaps you did,” Penelope snapped, pushing her chair back to leave the table. “Tell me, your Grace, does our schedule remain unchanged?”
George looked up at her, surprised at her suddenly leaving the table. “Yes,” he replied. “You have two months.”
Penelope nodded and gave him a short curtsy. “Then I suppose I need to make sure I have a dress to wear.” She turned, crossing the room to the door.
“What happened to using our names when it’s just the two of us?”
Pausing at the door, Penelope barely looked over her shoulder at him. “Maybe if you had married Alicia,” she hissed, “She’d be more willing to do so.”
And on that note, she left the dining room, Antony close to her heels.
The townhouse was quiet as Penelope slowly walked through the halls back to her bedroom. Now, more than ever, she craved the outside, the freedom that seemed to quietly drift further and further away from her grasp.
“Your Grace,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Howard, called out from behind her.
Penelope paused, turning. “Good morning, Mrs. Howard.”
The housekeeper glanced warily at Antony before she continued. “Your lady’s maid has arrived from Yeats Manor. Her name is Clarissa, and she is quite new to the position. While she was prepared to assist you at the Manor, the townhouse and your…guestsmight be a bit overwhelming.” Mrs. Howard gave a stretched, placid smile. “If you could offer her some patience, your Grace, I’m sure it would be very much appreciated.”
“Of course,” Penelope replied.
Giving Mrs. Howard a bow, Penelope quickly excused herself, walking faster towards her bedroom. She could only imagine the poor girl, overwhelmed and terrified at the pack of large beasts that slumbered in the bedroom. Antony trotted alongside her as if he were fully aware of the situation as well.
Coming around to the room, a shred of light peered out from the slightly opened door. Low howls and quiet barks echoed out into the hallway, shadows dancing across the door. Penelope entered and threw a hand over her mouth.
A young girl, possibly no older than eighteen, jumped on Penelope’s bed. The maid’s bonnet the girl wore had been flung off and was sticking out of Brutus’s mouth. Blonde ringlets framed the girl’s rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes cloudy with tears. All the dogs ran amok in the room, knocking over books andshelves. Penelope tried to do a quick head count and realized that not all the animals were in the room. The girl was far away from the beasts, but she yelped and screeched from the bed, squeezing her eyes shut.
Penelope let out a sharp whistle. One by one, the dogs fell into line in front of her, most of them panting with excitement. Walking into the room, Penelope pulled the bonnet out of Brutus’s mouth and approached the shaking girl.
“You must be Clarissa,” she quietly said. “My name is Penelope.”
“Oh, y-your Grace!” The girl tried to curtsey, staggered, and scrambled to regain her balance on the bouncy bed. “You must be so ashamed. I am so sorry!”
“Ashamed?” Penelope repeated with a laugh. “What’s there to be ashamed of?”
