Page 33 of His Wild Duchess
Sitting down at the table, Penelope felt as though the walls were slowly closing in on her as she began to open her first envelope. They were, in fact, everything the housekeeper said they would be. Rather than being exciting literature that managed to keep Penelope entranced, it was nothing more than business talk,questions regarding the future of Yeats Manor and what she planned to see done with it.
“Mrs. Howard,” Penelope asked after she had finished reading the first letter, “How am I supposed to approve these changes if I haven’t seen the Manor at all yet?”
“I’m sure you can imagine it,” she replied. “Or simply think about what it is you’d like to see in your future home.”
Penelope swallowed, the words ‘future home’ repeating in her brain like a mantra. Obviously no one else other than her and George would be aware of their deal and how it granted her freedom in the end. Someone like Mrs. Howard wouldn’t understand, and she’d probably have a few words of her own pertaining to the matter.
Time dragged as Penelope tried to get through the letters. Her gaze would drift to the windows, to the steadily rising sun and slow moving clouds. Everything within her ached for fresh air, to be out in the open with her animals once more. As she glanced out the window, her eyes caught onto the small stables behind the townhouse, where Fiona the mare rested and waited for her.
After a few more silent moments, Mrs. Howard began to gather her things. “All finished with the menus for the week, your Grace,” she said, sliding the paper down the table. “Won’t you take a look for me?”
Penelope snagged onto the sheet, holding it up to read the housekeeper’s neat handwriting. It listed out evening dinnersfor the week, all simple and based on different cuts of rabbit. Though she had always enjoyed whatever came out of a kitchen, there was a newfound anxiety alongside it. If she approved the menu, and George despised it, would that mean she failed in her duties?
Sighing, Penelope handed the paper back. “It all looks splendid, Mrs. Howard.”
“Perfect. I will deliver this to the kitchen. Why don’t you stay here and finish those approvals?”
Before Penelope could even think to argue, the housekeeper bundled up her things and left the drawing room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. Glancing around the room, Penelope began to rise from the table, leaving her half opened envelopes in disarray across the surface.
If she were to be the Duchess, as Mrs. Howardinsisted on reminding her, than what was stopping her from saving her duties for another time? The housekeeper already finished the menus, and Penelope looked over the bountiful harvest enough to know each product from memory alone. And as for the letters, none of the repairs would be going anywhere. The architect would remain at Yeats, and work would resume. Perhaps she’d wait for all the final requests to come through before finishing it.
Penelope shrugged, completely satisfied with her own reasonings as she confidently left the drawing room. But not before stopping by the kitchen for a handful of carrots.
Adrenaline rushed beneath her skin, but she kept it hidden deep within, waiting for the moment she got the chance to break into the outside. The servants she passed all bowed their heads respectfully, the notion still making her feel quite odd inside. As she came to the back of the townhouse, where there was a door that led directly into the land behind it, Penelope made her exit, finally appreciating the title she had gained when marrying George.
Penelope burst out into the outside, the hot spring air grasping onto her and not letting go. Eagerly, she ran down the field to the stables. It had been weeks since she had last ridden on the mare, Fiona, and knew how pent up that made the creature feel. Ready to shower her steed with treats and love, Penelope crept into the stables.
“Hello?” she called out, expecting a stablehand to be nearby.
Silence, besides the movement of the horses, responded back to her.
Penelope grinned. She preferred it this way, anyways. She passed by a few empty stalls before coming across Fiona, her white coat shimmering even in the dim lighting.
“My dear girl,” Penelope called out to her, putting her feet on the bottom of the stall door to lift herself a few feet in the air.
Fiona stepped forward, nuzzling her long snout through Penelope’s rambunctious hair.
“I hope they’ve been treating you well,” Penelope said as she ran her hands through Fiona’s coarsemane. Jumping down from the stall door, Penelope opened it up, and crept inside.
With the ease of long practice, Penelope snatched up a brush, and began to drag it along Fiona’s sturdy body. The horse remained still, her ears twisted forward in a comforting manner. The more she stroked the brush along Fiona’s coat, the easier it was to forget about the time she spent alongside Mrs. Howard. If there was anything that the day proved, it was that the life of a Duchess was not one she ever hoped to see for herself.
Out from within the pockets of her dress, Penelope pulled out her hidden carrots, holding them one by one beneath Fiona’s snout.
The mare huffed with pleasure when she noticed them, lowering her nuzzle to munch the carrots. Penelope smiled, listening to the loud crunches and chews as she continued to brush along her coat.
The stable grew noisy for a moment, as the other horses that rested inside stamped and snorted.
“And it sounds like you have some acquaintances,” Penelope mused once Fiona had finished eating her carrots. Lowering the brush, she left the stall, careful to make sure the door was closed behind her. Curiously, she began to walk through the rest of the stable.
There were a few smaller horses, ones of a size comfortable for Penelope to ride. Near the back of the stable, though, hidden by shadow, was a creature unlike anything Penelope had ever seen before.
Standing taller and broader than a small racehorse mare like Fiona, the beast within moved further back into its stall the closer Penelope came.
Penelope gaped, her eyes growing wide. “Well, I’ll be,” she murmured. “Y-You’re a stallion, aren’t you? I’ve seen artwork or read about you in books but…never in person.”
The stallion stamped a hoof, his ebony coat shining and sleek. A long bushy tail came from his back, thick hair falling down his mane to match. Even his feet bore long black fetlocks. Everything about him was awe-inspiring, from his incredible height to the black of his coat.
“You are a beauty, aren’t you?” Penelope mused, keeping her voice low and steady. Looking down, her eyes glanced over the stable, searching for anything that told her his name or where he came from. Near the upper corner of the stall, a wispy piece of paper had been nailed to the door, a simple word written on it. “Vaun,” she mumbled.
