Page 39 of His Wild Duchess
“Since when do younottease me?”
George waved a hand in the air. “Sure, you have a point, but I was being serious. You have a natural talent, something that was not taught, something that you were just born with. It is an incredible gift that I spent years in western America trying to master.”
A blush began to burn brightly against her tanned skin as she glanced away. She cleared her throat. “While we are discussing horses,” she began, quickly changing the subject off of her, “I should let you know that I sent a letter to Mr. William Fitzburgh.”
“Who?”
“My acquaintance at London’s premier track,” she said. “Mr. Fitzburgh worked with Fiona when she was a racehorse. He cared for her very well, unlike some other men at the tracks.” Penelope took a sip from her cup. “He is a very kind man, George, who can help your business endeavors if you’re good to him.”
George leaned back in his seat, just watching her. “How a well-bred lady like you manages to have acquaintances at London’s premier racehorse track is beyond me.” He smirked at her. “Youdoknow that men gamble at those things, right?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she quickly said. “Of course I know that men gamble on horses! You make it sound as if I’ve never been to the tracks myself!”
George’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, now, don’t tell me that such a well-bred lady -”
“There you go again with that ‘well-bred’ nonsense,” Penelope interjecting, letting out a loud laugh. “Who gave you that idea?”
“Why wouldn’t you be a well-bred lady?”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Ask any member of the Ton and they’ll tell you I’m…” her words trailed off, the confidence leaving the more she spoke. She narrowed her eyes, looking back down at her food. “Never mind.”
“Well,” George quickly said, “I want to hear. What’d they tell me?”
“Forget it.”
“My, my, darling. You act like I’m the one who brought it up.”
Penelope shot him a glare. “They would tell you that I am and have always been a spinster at heart, even before I was of age. In recent years, the Ton have been able to say it without having to speak around it. It seems as though I lived up to it for them.”
“Why does that matter? You obviously aren’t a spinster anymore.”
Penelope frowned. “Aren’t I? It’s not like what you and I have is a real marriage.”
“As far as the Ton is concerned, it is.”
“I-It’s not the same,” she mumbled.
George watched her, his curiosity growing. All he wanted was to read her like a book, understand how someone like her could do the things he had seen her do over the past few weeks. She wrangled an untamed horse, regularly leads a pack of once feral animals, and fixed the problem he thought would take him years to rectify. He needed to know more.
“Why do they call you a spinster?”
Penelope met his stare. “It is not something I can easily talk about.”
“If it helps,” he said softly, “I haven’t been in London for years. A decade. The Ton and their standards mean next to nothing to me.”
“Isn’t that why you needed to be married?”
“Yes, but -”
Penelope leaned forward. “I do not wish to list out all the reasons why you made a deal with the wrong woman.”
“Wrong woman?” he repeated. “What makes you say that?”
She sighed. “They call me a spinster because I made it my sole purpose to live my life independently.”
George nodded, and remained quiet, not wanting to force her to close up by saying the wrong thing.
“I watched Alicia become a bride through the mere circumstance of a scandal,” she said. “And that was enough for me. I found better company in my books, in the animals I raised. As Alicia went off to her new home, I watched Owen fight and strugglehis way into a union of his own.”
