Page 64 of His Wild Duchess
No man would ever have to worry about their partner listening to them, if their partner happened to be Penelope.
Clenching his fists, George let out a heavy sigh, unable to take his stare away from them, even if it forced him to be filled with an unbridled anger. If only he had been faster, quicker to the punch in asking Penelope for a dance. He had only assumed it wasn’t what she wanted, not after he admitted to previously being a rake. Reaching up, he pressed a fist against his forehead, feeling the mask crease and press unpleasantly into his head.
“Why, Georgie, you look like a lovesick dog.”
Looking over to his right, George’s heated stare landed on Winnie. She had left him for a moment or two, but he hadn’t even noticed, too focused on the pair dancing a yard or two away from him. She’d returned with a box of sweets that were tied shut with a red ribbon.
“What’re you starin’ at?” she snapped, holding a hand protectively over the box. “Don’t get any bright ideas, sport, these are for my beloved Freddie! Don’t you think he deserves it after givin’yourbride a dance?”
“Not now, Winnie.”
“C’mon, now, Georgie, don’t be mad at me!”
He scowled. “Why not?”
“Well,I’mnot the one who’s standin’ there lookin’ like the most terrible thing on God’s green earth happened.”
George sighed, deciding not to answer her any longer, not when he teetered on the edge of shouting, when he was fully aware she did not deserve it.
“Georgie,” she said as she came to stand beside him, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just ask for the next dance?”
He glanced over at her, about to snap and lash out, but only seeing a kind friend. Letting out a deep sigh, George waited for himself to calm down before he spoke again. “Am I truly that transparent?”
Winnie laughed loudly, patting his back sympathetically. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re transparent to everyonebutPenelope. Does that help?”
Frowning, he shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“Didn’t think it would.”
George laughed. “Why’d you say it, then?”
“Seemed like the moment for some advice,” she said with a shrug. “Not my fault you didn’t give me a good enough problem that asked for some good advice!”
“You don’t think this is a -” George cut himself off, holding up his hand. “You know what? Never mind. I appreciate your help, Winnie.”
“Well, well, looks like the Englishman has some sense after all!”
George laughed, knowing all the quick-wittedthings he could say but holding them in as the song came to an end. His attention snapped towards Penelope and Fred, seeing that they did not part right away. Without waiting to say another word to Winnifred, George quickly strode across the pavilion, coming beside them within an instant. They were talking in hushed tones, the noise too loud around George for him to truly pinpoint what it was that they said.
“Penelope,” he said, extending his hand to her before bowing his head. “Might I have the next dance?”
Fred, within an instant, released his hold on her, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Enjoy, Pen,” he cooed, giving her a quick wink before scooting his way across the floor to Winnie.
“Unless that isn’t what you want,” George quickly said once they were alone, suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn’t raised her face to meet his own yet. Lowering his hand, he fought against the embarrassment, moments away from shooting off in the opposite direction. “My apologies, Penelope, I thought -”
“I would like to dance with you.”
George looked back at her. “You would?”
Her voice was quiet and small, not something he would ever expect to hear from her. Slowly, she raised her face to him, sharp green eyes looking at him through hooded, long eyelashes. Everything about her, even with the mask, was incredibly alluring, drawing him in and capturing him within a second. He drew nearer to her, delicately taking her hand within his own before slipping a hand around the curve of her waist. As she waded in closer to him, the smell of her hair wafted past his face, igniting every nerve within him.
The orchestra began to play their next tune, and it was slower than before. A part of it made George felt melancholy, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Allowing his grip to grow firmer around her, George drew Penelope even nearer, till there was no more space left to give. The music carried them around the pavilion, less pairings upon the floor making it easier to move around as though they swam.
George let himself gaze down at her, meeting her stare and not daring to let it go. If there was a world going on around them, he was unbeknownst to it, not finding any need to dare to turn away from her. He was enamored by her tanned skin, looking as though the sun had left it’s phantom kiss on her. There were her eyes that were only emeralds, plucked from the deepest trenches of the earth and left within her gaze. It took everything in him to not drag a hand through her auburn locks, desperate to know what they felt like against his skin. There was so much, he realized, that he wanted far too late.
They had already been so set on their deal, so set on the opening of the stud farm and capture of a well enough cottage. Further than that: George managed to secure the perfect cottage, and after a few minor repairs, it would be ready. There was no telling when that would be, but George doubted it would be very long. Time was running out, and he still had no idea of what it was that he truly wanted.
But then, when he looked down at her, unable to tear himself away, George became sure of one thing. His heart would ache for all eternity if he had to be separated from her, the girl who never truly wanted to be his wife. Even then, before anything had been set and done, George already missed her, already felt his chest begin to cry and grow hollow from no longer having her near. There was no time left to turn back, to change everything they had agreed on. Penelope demanded there be an end date, and until she told him otherwise, George would stick to it.
