Page 59 of His Wild Duchess
“Didn’t you tell me earlier that your marriage was nothin’ more than a contract?”
“Well, that’s exactly what it was. My father, the late Duke, signed an agreement with Penelope’s father, when they both needed to right their previous wrongs. I happened to find my father’s side of the agreement when I had returned from the New World. It was only fair to honor it.”
“Was?”
George glanced over at him. “What?”
“You saidwas,”Fred repeated, raising a thick brow at him. “‘That’s exactly what itwas.’ Your words, Georgie!”
“Slip of the tongue,” George muttered, despite the feeling in his heart that insisted on saying otherwise.
With his gaze holding onto her, Penelope began to lead Vaun slowly towards the stable, where they stood. He doubted he’d ever get used to the idea of seeing her riding a half-wild stallion, looking incredibly calm and collected. There was not another woman in all of England who would have the same grace as her, the patience and stamina to woo and coax such a beast into willing submission. It was an incredibly rare skill, one that George doubted he’d have the chance to witness again.
Admiration, pure and simple, was written all over his face as he watched her.
“You never mentioned she had a way with horses.”
“It was a rather recent revelation,” George replied. “I told you she had a way with animals.”
“Sure,” Fred mused. “Ain’t no other animal like a wild stallion.”
“Well, if she has tamed feral, stray dogs, I don’t see what’s so different about Vaun.”
Fred eyed him sideways. “You best not be overlookin’ what you’ve found here, Georgie.”
“I haven’t got a clue what I’ve found here.”
Without another word, Fred delivered a resoundingsmackto George’s back, shoving him forward a few steps as Penelope approached with Vaun. She raised one eyebrow as George stumbled closer to her, her hands protectively tightening on the reins.
“Careful, now,” she called out. “Wouldn’t want to spook him.”
“Course not,” George grumbled, turning to give Fred a nasty look over his shoulder.
Fred blithely gave him a thumbs-up, coming forward himself. “Mighty lookin’ thing you’ve got there, Penelope,” he said as he tucked his hands through his red suspenders. “I ‘member when that stallion was still a wild beast, roamin’ the plains.”
Sliding down from the horse without any assistance, Penelope looked over at Fred with wide, curious eyes. “You knew him from before?”
“Well, sure!” Fred took an enthusiastic step forward. “Whole reason why Georgie here was able to wrangle ‘im up was ‘cause of me and Winnie, that’s for sure.”
“How wonderful,” Penelope breathed. “I had no idea.”
George glanced helplessly between them, suddenly feeling as though he were nothing more than a child. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, standing firmly beside Fred with a raised chin. “He flatters himself, darling. The rider is the true tamer of the stallion.”
“Speakin’ of riders,” Fred said, his voice loud and echoing in the yard, “You’ve gotta be quite experienced to hold your own on a creature such as Vaun.”
Penelope smiled sheepishly. “My mare, Fiona, is a retired racehorse. Anything I know surely came from her.”
“Well, I’ll be!” Fred laughed, clapping a hand over George’s shoulder. “You know, horses like Vaun don’ take all that kindly to strangers. They’re as particular as you and I.”
Penelope looked up at Vaun, running her hand down the length of his neck. “He has always been rather kind to me.”
“Then that shows your character!”
There was an obvious shift in the atmosphere as Fred began to talk to Penelope about horses. Her face looked more open, eyes wide and listening as she fully faced Fred. Vaun rested beside her, lowering his head so as to lean it against her shoulder. She absentmindedly petted him while talking, the movement obviously soothing any anxieties the stallion felt about the men being across from him. George watched the interaction and found himself growing more and more eager to be involved, to have Penelope look at him in that way rather than Fred.
Lost in his thoughts, George missed a sentence or two of the conversation, rejoining reality when Penelope threw her head back in an honest laugh. George’s gaze clung to her in that moment, watching the laugh lines peer out around her eyes and lips, the way a smile took over her entire face the moment she allowed it to. He was bedazzled, utterly and entirely, unable to pull himself away from the happiness that radiated off her.
But then Fred spoke again, and she laughed some more, and the irritation began to burrow its way into George’s chest. Glancing over at his friend, he felt the oddest thing take over him, a long-buried anger almost ruling his actions, if he wasn’t careful. In a split second, George was suddenly ready to shove his friend flat, upend the horse’s oat bucket over his head, or do anything desperate to get him to stop talking to his wife.
