Page 52 of His Wild Duchess
“Did you hear that?” George asked.
Penelope nodded, leaning over beside him to get a good look.
Slowly, George pulled back the drawer, opening it up to reveal a snoozing cat. Butternut lay curled up in a compartment full of stray papers, a pair of George’s gloves poking out from underneath her round belly. Every now and then, Butternut stirred in her sleep, letting out a chirping sound as though she dreamt of chasing rabbits and field mice.
Simultaneously, George and Penelope reached for the cat, their hands swiping by each other. Jerking back, George swallowed as a series of jolts swarmed up his hand from the simple contact. The feeling seemed to spread up his arm, swallowing him up within a second. Avoiding looking at her, he turned away, unbeknownst to the fact that Penelope did the same. Butternut remained sound asleep, unaware how heavy the air had suddenly become between them.
“Well,” Penelope whispered, backing away from the desk. “N-Now I’ve found her, I’ll -” she backed into a chair, the noise rattling through the room. She steadied it, giving George a hesitant smile as she kept on walking backwards, hitting the wall next. Letting out an airy laugh, she grasping the doorknob. “I-If you’ll excuse me, your Grace - I mean, George!”
And on that final word, Penelope disappeared out of the study.
Falling back into his seat, feeling breathless for no reason whatsoever, George looked down to see Butternut yawning, stretching out her back before lifting her head at him, slowly blinking before letting out a wispy meow. After stretching, the cat jumped from the drawer, landing on his lap and curling into a tight ball within a second. Butternut was fast asleep once more.
George allowed his hand to run over the cat’s small head as he leaned back in his seat, waiting for his heart to stop hammering against his chest like a lovesick schoolboy'.
CHAPTER 14
It had been a week since Penelope had seen the cottage that would, soon enough, be her forever home. In the evenings, when sleep eluded her and owls hooted throughout the night, Penelope stared at her ceiling and imagined what it would be like to be there. She pictured herself rising early in the day, letting out the pack and tending to her garden, perhaps collecting eggs from a few hens she’d keep. There’d be harvests from the garden, and they would supply her table.
Penelope could see herself sitting upon that rocking chair on the porch as the sun began its quiet descent, a well-worn book in her hands as the dogs slept around her feet. Birds and other wild creatures would make their way through, unafraid and calm. Those thoughts were meant to whisk Penelope off into a dreamless sleep, but all they did was forge a knot in her stomach. Everything that once felt so utterly simple was suddenly more convoluted than the most complex novel.
The mornings began with Mrs. Howard tracking her down in the townhouse, eager to get a move on the responsibilities that sat on Penelope’s shoulders as the Duchess of Yeats. They hadn’t even arrived at Yeats Manor, and she was still ordering the staff around through written word. Despite doing more as the days went on, she found that it never once got easier, and left her mind spinning the same way it always did. The morning crept into early afternoon, and by that point, the only thing on Penelope’s mind was her break, when she got to whisk the dogs outside for a walk.
Even though it was for the dogs, Penelope needed the sun just as much.
On one particularly busy day, she gathered the pack from within her bedroom, accompanied by her lady’s maid, Clarissa, through the townhouse’s quiet halls. The dogs followed close behind, Antony slipping in front to act as though he led the way.
“Your Grace,” Clarissa said as they took the main staircase that led into the foyer.
“Yes?”
Clarissa hesitated, her hands grazing over the heads of the foxhounds as they walked on by. “Might I ask for advice?”
Turning, Penelope glanced at her sideways. Ignoring the pride that entered her heart at the idea of someone wanting advice fromher,Penelope frowned. “Perhaps there might be someonemore knowledgeable to seek advice from? Like Mrs. Howard, for instance.”
Clarissa’s face bunched up as though she caught a whiff of something bad. “But you are a Duchess!” she exclaimed.
The title still eluded Penelope, no matter how much time went by. As far as she was concerned, she saw herself as the spinster who watched her siblings get wed and take on higher positions from afar.
“Well, I suppose I cannot argue there. What plagues you, Clarissa?”
“Nothing other than love.”
Penelope stiffened as they rounded the foyer, going towards the kitchen to slip out the backside of the townhouse. While the animals enjoyed a walk through London’s busy streets, Penelope was in no mood to ignore pointed stares or to ignite a new series of rumors and gossips.
“I’m not sure what advice I can offer for a topic such as that.”
Clarissa paused by the back door, her face growing dejected. “But you…you are married!”
“Love,” Penelope said, the right words eluding her, “Comes in different ways, Clarissa. It is not only bred from marriage, or courting, for that matter.” Reaching to open the door, the dogsbegan to file out one by one. “Take my animals, for instance. Is my love any lesser because it is not steeped in romance?”
“Of course not!”
Penelope sighed as the girl’s face remained downcast. The lady’s maid was much younger than her, still in the highs and lows of growing up and stepping into the world around her. Clarissa was quite the opposite then Penelope, however, with her obvious yearn for a romantic tale, when all Penelope wanted to do at that age was read her books and climb trees.
Wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders, Penelope leaned in close. “Tell me of the love you seek.”
“I believe I was born to give it,” Clarissa quickly said, her face lighting up. “And even more eager to receive it, though I am lacking on both ends, I suppose.” She turned to look out the door as a breeze slipped into the townhouse. “I only wish for something true and strong. Is that too much to ask?”
