Page 49 of His Wild Duchess
He stepped closer to her, closing the space in between them. Suddenly, she was very aware of the fact that he still held her hand, that his warm breath fanned over her face like a summer day. Her eyes fluttered shut as he began to lower his head to her, getting closer and closer to her parted lips.
“Woof!”
From the staircase, Antony the mastiff came pouncing down the stairs, bounding after Butternut, who released a high-pitched yowl before slipping through a cracked door.
“Antony!” Penelope shouted, pointing a finger at him. “Butternut is yourfriend!”
Looking up George, she gave him a small smile, hoping to forestall his anger. With his hand still wrapped around hers, he gave her a wide grin back, tightening his hold on her hand.
“C’mon,” he whispered. “Before Butternut needs to find a new house to nest in!”
With a relieved smile, Penelope eagerly ran beside George as they chased after the mastiff.
CHAPTER 13
The moment the carriage pulled up to the third cottage George had found in those short few weeks, he knew that it was the one she would fall in love with. Not only was she already ready to jump through the carriage door, moments before it had even rolled to a complete stop, but all that morning, Penelope walked around the townhouse with her head held high, a wide smile on her lips.
When George gathered up the interest to ask her what made her so happy, the response made him more confused than before.
“Doesn’t everything feel…just right to you?”
“Just right,” he had repeated, drawling out the words.
Penelope nodded firmly. “That’s it. Just right.”
And after that, she walked away as if she were on a determined mission.
Hours later, and they were in front of another cottage, and George felt more like everything was nowhere near “just right”. On that excursion, Ali the spaniel and Antony the mastiff tagged along. Ali was small enough to curl into the seat beside him, which he happened to enjoy more than he cared to admit. Antony, who had the oddest of fascinations with George, watched him from afar, not leaving Penelope’s side but also not daring to pull his warm brown gaze off of him.
But of course, it wasn’tthosethings that managed to leave a sour taste in his mouth, as though he had eaten something distasteful. The dogs were perfect, more perfect that he planned on them being. And Penelope, sitting across from him in the warm carriage, dressed in pale blue skirts with not a glove in sight, was stupendous.
Penelope pulled back the curtain as the carriage rolled to a stop, her toes eagerly tappingagainst the floorboard and her green eyes lighting up with excitement. The dogs, seemingly feeling her change in energy, reacted similarly, tails thumpingagainst the seats and impatient whines filling the compartment.
“How on earth did you manage to find this one, George?”
He sighed. A part of him hoped that the words she spoke were out of malice or disdain for what she saw, but George knew very well that it was only wishful thinking. “Third time’s the charm, as they say,” he muttered, the words sounding sharper than he intended, even though she didn’t seem to pay much mind to it.
Looking up to give her a short smile, George added, “Let us take a look, shall we?”
Twisting the handle, the carriage door popped open to reveal a beautiful oasis hidden within England’s rolling countryside. The dogs, not waiting for a single command, burst free from the compartment, their long hind legs launching them into the manicured grass. Penelope followed behind, ignoring the driver’s helpful hand as she hiked up her long skirts. She was gone within an instant.
George exited the carriage last, hands tucked within his trouser pockets.
“How was the ride, your Grace?” the driver politely asked after respectfully bowing his head.
“Very well, Mr…?”
“Just Mansfield, your Grace. James Mansfield.”
“My apologies, Mr. Mansfield. It seems I am still learning with each day that I’m back from the New World.”
“Of course, your Grace.” The words were polite, but the faint smile on Mansfield’s face hinted at pleasure.
“How far from the city is it?”
Mr. Mansfield glanced back down the path. “It was an hour ride, your Grace, much shorter than the rest.”
“Really?”
