Page 53 of His Wild Duchess
“Perhaps…perhaps you should be aware of more possibilities besides a handsome youth.”
“More?”
Penelope took a step outside, the sunlight bathing her in its warmth. Closing her eyes, she raised her face to the sun, eager for it to coat her. “I worry you will stop yourself from finding the love meant for you if you are looking for something in particular.Besides,” she turned, placing a steady hand on the girl’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “You are far too young to believe it is over for you just yet.”
Clarissa breathed deeply. “You’re right.”
“Perhaps you should take some time to yourself, Clarissa?”
“What do you mean?”
Penelope shrugged as she stepped out onto the grass. “Rather than fret overfindinglove, why don’t youdosomething you love? For someone who was born to give it, I think you are forgetting how it exists all around you, if only you let it.”
Clarissa’s face lit up as the words began to sink in. Giving Penelope a wide smile, the lady’s maid turned around on her heel, quickly marching through the townhouse and out of sight. Penelope shut the door behind her, breathing in a deep gulp of air as the sound of quiet birdsong and distant chatter enveloped her.
The wolfhounds had already tired themselves out, basking within the sun as they sprawled out on the grassy floor, bellies up to the sky. The rest eagerly gathered around her feet as Penelope began to walk, taking her usual route around the townhouse, a dirt path slowly beginning to be made within the grass. The dogs followed lazily around her, taking their time as they walked. Penelope let her eyes wander, taking in the trees and birds, the tops of townhouses surrounding them, the stable and the noise that came from within.
Somehow, she felt the slightest bit of sorrow twinge at her, a single thought entering her mind.
I believe I might miss this.
Penelope shook her head, surprised at the sudden sadness that seemed to be lurking within her mind theentire time. Normally, she’d only need to think of the cottage, of the independent future she had dreamed up for herself that would soon come to fruition, to feel joy return to her. But on that afternoon, it seemed that wouldn’t be the case at all. Looking to her right as the sound of the door reopening reached her ears, Penelope laid her eyes on George, who rolled up his white sleeves as he walked across the yard to reach her.
That was when the true source of her sadness revealed itself.
It was the future she contemplated, the future that no longer looked to be the source of her dreams. Rather, it was the acknowledgment of leaving everything behind—and by everything, she truly meant George Houston.
“Might I join you?” he asked when he reached her, eyes narrowed as the sun stared down at him.
Penelope smiled. “You don’t have to ask, George.”
Together, they continued the walk around the townhouse’s yard, the dogs more excited now that George had joined them. The wolfhounds, Brutus and Titus, at the Duke’s arrival, eagerlyclimbed to their feet, joining the trek behind them. Antony, who had the oddest of fascinations with George, stopped walking ahead of the pack as to linger beside him. After seeing that, Penelope felt the sadness be whisked away.
“You know,” George said after a few moments of silence, “I remember being a child and taking this same path with my mother during the Spring.”
Penelope glanced over at him. “Your mother?”
“She passed when I was young, I can’t say I remember it all too well.”
Despite the sad words he spoke, the light smile didn’t leave his lips. Penelope watched him curiously, intrigued at his need to speak his inner truths all of a sudden. Not that she would dare to complain - it was exactly what she wanted to hear.
“I’m very sorry about your mother,” Penelope said. “I’m sure she was a fine Duchess. Better than I’ll ever be.”
George chuckled. “I’ll say,” he teased in a quiet voice.
Playfully nudging him with her elbow, Penelope laughed, the birds responding with their own series of tweets and twirps. “You haven’t discussed your family much.”
“Well, what is there to say, besides the usual hum-drum?”
Penelope looked away, trying to hide her disappointment.
From beside her, George let out a tired sigh. “The late Duchess of Yeats was everything a Duchess was meant to be,” he began. “She was kind and just. She was beautiful, inside and out. The day she left us…was the day a piece of Yeats left with her.” His face grew hard, suddenly, in the afternoon light. “And thus began my preparations for the New World.”
“Just like that?”
George laughed, looking over at her with a raised brow. “Curious, darling?”
Feeling a rush of heat rise to her face, that wasdefinitelynot from the sun, Penelope looked away, running her hand over the top of Brutus’s long fur. “I only wish -” she cut herself short as the embarrassment took over her.
