Page 30 of His Wild Duchess
Crossing past the side of the cottage, Penelope looked over its wooden walls, the secure roof and space for a garden. Her hope and excitement for the future began to grow the further she walked. As she came to the back of the cottage, her shoulders deflated.
George stepped out the back door, looking over the view of fields and forests. “No barn, it seems,” he said.
“And no stable,” Penelope whispered.
“Not to worry.” He left the cottage, taking a few steps closer to her. “There’s plenty of time to secure one better.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to go through the trouble.”
George raised a brow. “Why not?”
She hesitated, looking away as he drew even closer to her. “L-Let me look inside.”
Before he could say anything, Penelope gathered her skirts and slipped around him, stepping over the underbrush to enter the wispy little cottage.
The wind creaked and moaned against the old floorboards and thin walls. Furniture, simple and inexpensive, was covered with sheets, kitchen supplies tucked neatly within a few cabinets. She moved slowly through it, trying to imagine herself within it. There were plenty of nooks for Butternut to make a nest within, space for dog beds and baskets of toys. Despite the lack of a barn or a table, Penelope allowed herself to stand within the center of the cottage, and dream up her future life, imagining that she already lived it.
“Well,” George said as he stepped in behind her, “What do you think?”
“It is all lovely,” she murmured.
“Then why do I get the feeling that you are sad?”
Penelope turned to face him. “It would be perfect if there were a barn and a stable.”
“Sure,” he said. “There isn’t anything else?”
She held her hands behind her back, watching him through her lashes. “Should there be?”
George hesitated, and glanced around the room before reaching behind his head, swiping away a trail of sweat. “I’ll let the driver know we’ll be departing soon,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “Wrangle your beasts, won’t you?”
Without another word, he passed by her, going out the front exit of the cottage. For a second time that day, Penelope was left unsure of her own thoughts. Was there something else she had wanted him to say? Penelope bit back a bitter little laugh. She was nothing more than a fool. Her heart was reserved for her animals, for the creatures who loved her without challenge or conditions, and she didn’t plan to change that any time soon.Burying the rustling butterflies that tormented her stomach, Penelope went out the back of the cottage. A few yards away, Priory and Pat chased each other through a grassy field. They nipped at each other as they ran, moving at speeds Penelope had never seen them go at before.
She waited a moment more, not wanting to put them back into such a small carriage after they only got a taste of the freedom she yearned to give them. They yippedand barked, tongues lolling out their mouths. Despite being tired, they refused stop and miss out on any of the fun.
Sighing, Penelope took a few steps forward, and stuck her fingers inher mouth, releasing a sharp whistle through the air. Like clockwork, Priory’s and Pat’s heads turned towards her, and they sprinted in her direction. They slowed to a stop around her, both standing on their hind legs to get some excited licks in across her face.
“Good girls,” Penelope cooed, crouching down to give them some pets in the sunlight.
They both fell to the grass, rolling over on their backs to get well-earned belly rubs.
Penelope looked over her shoulder at the sound of feet crunching against the grass. “See,” she called out to George, who watched with crossed arms, “I told you they’d come back.”
George huffed. “You’re lucky they didn’t smell anything.”
“Watch yourself,” Penelope warned playfully, “Come too close, and they’ll smell you!”
“Oh, don’t be -”
Suddenly, Priory’s head shot up, her stare landing on George. He froze, one foot still raised in the air. As if they had one brain, Pat looked up next, even going so far as to jump to her feet. Priory quickly followed behind, and before George had any time to even think about running, the pair of foxhounds pelted towards him, eagerly hopping and jumping to try and play with him.
Much to her surprise, George crouched, extending his arms towards the pair. They barked and yipped, tails wagging wildly in the air behind them. He wrestled with them, rubbing at their stomachs and dodging the playful snap of their mouths beside his arms. A musical laugh left his lips as George rolled backwards, bum smacking against the dirty ground. No doubt it smudged against his pants as the foxhounds scrambledon top of him, licking and licking at his face.
Penelope stood back up, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. George rolled back to his feet, patting the top of their heads and letting them nibble against his fingers. He raised his gaze, meeting Penelope’s. He was lit up and breathless, hairruffled and turned askew. Penelope’s heart grew in a way that made her cover her mouth, turning her gaze away from him as he leapt inside the carriage.
The foxhounds, not having any patience, climbedup at the same time. Penelope was tempted to do the same.
Before she stepped inside, Penelope glanced over her shoulder at the cottage. The wind brushed through her hair as if it said goodbye, wishing her farewell. She entered the carriage, no longer sure of what her future held, and where her heart lay with the Duke.
