Page 36 of His Wild Duchess
Undoing the fasteners, Penelope lifted the saddle off Vaun, holding it above her head and replacing it against the hook where it was displayed on the wall. “He seemed to want a ride,” she said matter-of-factually. “All I did was -”
“What? Help him out?” George scoffed. “It’s not like you can talk to him.”
“Sure, if you expect him to answer back in the waywetalk, then no he can’t.” Penelope considered. “Though if he could, he’d likely be more polite than you.”
George raised a brow. “So, hetoldyou to take him for a ride.”
Ignoring the way he sounded, Penelope grabbed a brush from the wall and began to drag it along the base of the horse’s stomach. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t patronize me.”
Remaining quiet, Penelope could feel George’s stare on her, watching as she finished brushing Vaun. The stallion remained still, not showing any signs of hostility or discomfort. His heartbeat beneath her palm was steady and strong. Not once would she have assumed that he was a half-feral horse, unwillingly to let any riders near him. Vaun never gave her that impression, and she never walked in assuming it. She glanced at George for a split second. He looked rather impressed, and it sent a heated blush across her face.
“Perhaps you should treat him like any other steed,” Penelope said as she began to leave the stall, slipping by George. “Rather than let him sense your unsteadiness and nerves.”
“Nerves,” he repeated with a raised brow. “What nerves?”
She scoffed, shaking her head but not rebutting. Leaving him standing there, Penelope reached into Fiona’s stall to run her hand over her snout. “If you’ll excuse me, I left Mrs. Howard in a rather rushed manner. I should find her before she thinks I’ve abandoned her completely.”
CHAPTER 10
Life alongside Penelope was more heart pounding than George ever expected it to be. Where he went to seek out a marriage that would better his chances of being acceptedby the Ton, he found something else entirely instead. Not only was Penelope the exact opposite of the kind of woman he expected to find, but she quickly became the answer to all his questions, solving the problems he thought would take more effort than it needed.
George paced around in his study, waiting for the butler, Mr. Moderno, to appear and announce the serving of dinner. A newfound anxiety prickled beneath his skin, something he was not used to experiencing.
As if right on cue, a short knock came from the door. Mr. Moderno stepped inside, dressed in a neat suit and short cropped black hair, with streaks of grey sprouting at the sides. “Good evening, your Grace,” the butler said, bowing his head respectfully. “Dinner will be served upon your arrival. Her Grace will arrive momentarily.”
Before the butler could make a quiet and quick exit, George shot his hand up.
“Mr. Moderno,” he called out, “Won’t you do me a favor?”
“Better yet, your Grace, I might just whatever you ask.”
George gave him a look, an amused smile perking up at the corner of his lip. “Most amusingof you, Mr. Moderno.”
“My apologies, your Grace.”
“I refuse to accept them,” George said. “I quite enjoy a bit of amusement. Keep at it.”
Mr. Moderno frowned. “Of course, your Grace. What else might I do for you?”
Standing beside the window, George pulled back the curtain as the setting sun made the land behind them look as if it were on fire. A deep orange glowcascaded across the grass, lighting up the frame of the stable. He watched as the stablehand moved in and out, doing his nightly chores before locking the stable up for the evening.
His mind drifted, and all he could think about was Penelope and that stallion, how the wild steed acted so kindly to her when the only experience he had with it was ducking out the way when it bucked. How did a lady manage to earn the respect of a mighty beast with only a simple touch?
George shook his head, turning back to the butler. “Could I ask you something?”
The butler nodded. “You may ask me anything, your Grace. I can’t promise answers, but I have an ear that works well enough to listen.”
“Have you always been here in London, as a butler?”
“For the majority of my life, your Grace,” he said. “I have always had work within London. You might not remember,” Mr. Moderno moved further into the room, hands twisted behind his back, “But I tied your shoes every day when you were only a boy.”
George couldn’t help but smile. “Why you? Wouldn’t that be someone else’s job?”
“How could I say no to tying a young boy’s shoes,” Mr. Moderno replied, “When I had no children of my own?” He smiled fondly at him. “You were a good young sir, your Grace, when you were growing up.”
George smirked. “Can’t say the same now, can you?”
“There is nothing wrong with going your own way, your Grace.”
