Page 4 of His Wild Duchess
The anger that festered below her skin was aimed at only one man, and that was their father. Fueled by lasting rage at the late Marquess, Penelope had never been like her gentle sister. And besides, Alicia had always strived to achieve a marriage. It was the life she dreamt of. Another difference: while most ladies were wed and giving birth at her age, Penelope thrived in her independence.
And now, her father managed to involve himself in her world once more from beyond the grave.
Also, unlike her sister, Penelope never backed down from speaking her truth, from saying the words that lay at the tip of her tongue. She turned toward the Duke.
“How dare you?” she shouted, the clarity of her voice bouncing painfully against the walls of the drawing room. “Do I look like cattle to you? An animal looking to be bought and sold?”
The Duke never once flinched, only looked up at her with the same slightly amused smile he had worn since entering Egerton Manor. “If the contract suggests such a notion, I am not the one to blame. I wasn’t even in England when it was written and decided upon. Like most aristocratic men–” He paused, flashing a smug smile. “I am only here to honor it.”
“What intelligent person would honor something written without their involvement?”
“My,” the Duke mused, turning his attention to Owen, “She’s a feisty one.”
Owen flinched as if he could feel Penelope’s anger grow. “Your Grace, might we -”
“Society men,” Penelope huffed, shaking her head at him. “What a gentleman you are!”
“Never once did I claim to be one. Shame on you for assuming.”
“Shame?”Penelope raised a pointed finger, aiming it at his chest. “If you think for one second that I’d -”
A cold and clammy hand snapped around Penelope’s arm.
“Sister,” Owen whispered, eyes wide and heavy with exhaustion. “Might I speak with you in private?”
Though it felt like she had no choice in the matter, Penelope couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. The look on her brother’s face was one of despair, one that threatened to crumble in front of a powerful Duke. Her heart ached as she met his stare. How could she forget the one who carried the heaviest of the burdens her father left behind? Guilt flooded her heart. Out of all people, he deserved her patience.
“Of course,” she replied, hoping that the determination in her eyes could inspire Owen to hold his head higher.
Owen kept his grip tight on her as he stood, giving the Duke a bow before excusing himself. Walking behind her brother, Penelope let him drag her out, unable to pull her eyes away from the smug Duke. He looked rather proud from his spot on the sofa, a patient smile tugging at the corner of his lip. His calm demeanor and enduring self-restraint almost drove her wild. How dare he act as if none of it mattered, as if the contract affected no one?
Bringing her out to the foyer, Owen released his hold on her and began to pace. He held his chin thoughtfully, lips moving as though he were talking to himself. Penelope watched, noticinghow his skin turned a paler shade, nervous sweat trickling down his temple. She stepped closer, fighting the urge just to grab him.
“Owen,” she whispered, surprised at how much she sounded like a scared child. “Are you truly considering this?”
He paused, eyes snapping up to her. “Of course not.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“That being said–” Owen went back to pacing within the second. “We’d need to find a solution if we want to stand against a notarized contract. A fast solution,” he murmured, too quiet for her to hear; when he looked back up, there was a faint shadow of a smile across his lips. “And I’m struggling to find one.”
Penelope nervously twirled her hair around her fingers. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, Penelope.”
She frowned, unable to stand the notion of having to leave the burden in Owen’s lap. “I can speak to Mother. Perhaps she knows -”
“Don’t,” he interjected, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t get her involved.”
“Why not?”
“Penny, things have finally hit a rhythm here at Egerton. Alicia runs her own household,” he explained, deep stress apparent in the lines on his face. “I am engaged. You are -”
“I’m what?” she pressed her lips together, not eager to hear what he had to say.
He eyed her, sighing loudly. “You are here, Penny.”
Penelope couldn’t stop herself from shrinking away at his words. He didn’t need to say much to invoke the feeling of responsibility on her shoulders. It was easy to avoid responsibility when she was younger, even when it was time for her debut. As the years passed, and Penelope grew happier with her independence and her animals, a haunting remorse grew alongside it. Not that she regretted doing what she wanted, but rather, she could not forget the disappointment in her mother’s words.
