Page 65 of His Wild Duchess
The music swelled, the passion in the song resembling the own fires smoldering in his heart. The pavilion could’ve been empty all around them and George wouldn’t have known. He could only focus on dancing with her as though it would be the last time, tightening his grip on her hand and pulling her even closer to him by the hip. Her lips parted, a warm breath coating him across the lips.
He’d give anything - he’d give the entireworld- to allow himself to dip down and capture her lips in a tender embrace.
As the orchestra came to an end, claps resounding across Vauxhall gardens, George wished to turn back time, to replaythe moment over and over again, until it was so prominent in his mind that he could never unsee it. The music stopped, and George had to pull his arm away from her waist, though he was incredibly reluctant. He kept his hand wrapped around her own, using it to pull her arm around his.
Penelope remained quiet as she twisted her arm around his, her gaze down and focused on the floor. George sighed, beginning to lead the way back to the Millers as they ate their way through the delectable sweets box Winnie purchased.
“George,” Penelope suddenly said, her voice firmer than before.
He paused, looking down at her. “What is it?”
“Do you…regret your time with me?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?” George asked, turning to face her fully.
She shrugged. “It was merely a thought.”
“A cursed one, at that.”
Penelope scoffed. “Don’t be childish.”
“Don’t be such a pessimist,” he snapped back.
“George -”
“Tell me what it is I did to make you ask such a thing.”
She looked away while shaking her head. “There was nothing anyone did, George.”
“Then why?”
“I do not know,” she murmured, her lips pressing tight. If there were a meaning behind her words, she refused to show it.
George sighed, moving back towards Winnie and Fred. He felt like he grew cold from the inside out, suddenly faced with the realization that Penelope might never feel the way he’d come to feel about her. As far as he knew, her future still brimmed with the possibility of independency alongside her pack of animals. There was no George in that picture.
Shoulders hunching with bitter thoughts, George pushed the image of an empty Manor out of his mind. No Penelope, no dogs. Not even Buttercup. How cold would his home become?
“At our return to the townhouse,” he suddenly said, “We must begin preparations for the ball.”
“What ball?”
“Restoration is finished at Yeats Manor,” George replied. “With the opening of the stud farm, we will commemorate it with a ball, inviting all the aristocratic members of the Ton who once doubted me. Perhaps it will be our last chance to sway them.”
“So that’s what it is about? Our deal?”
George paused, looking over at her. “Isn’t it?”
“Well, I -”
“You will need to discuss the details with Mrs. Howard,” he quickly said, unable to bare the idea of her delivering her rejection within Vauxhall gardens. He would not taint their time with heartache or anger, it was not worth it one bit, and Penelope deserved much better than that. Giving her a forced smile, he made it back to the Millers. “Might we be on our way, friends?”
Walking as a company, they made their way back down the Grand Walk, taking their final ganders over the spectacular spectacle that was Vauxhall gardens. The acrobats still danced on the tight rope, wearing outrageously bright costumes and juggling a numerous amount of things while suspended in the air. A hot air balloon was rising into the sky when they passed, a trio of people inside, looking over the edge and waving as the crowds shrunk beneath them like ants.
As they came to the exit from Vauxhall, they each left their mask with the jesters, who now wore dreadfully sad faces when guests made their way to leave. Despite it all, Penelope’s arm remained tightly wound around George’s, as though she were afraid to let go. He, feeling quite afraid himself, would revel in gratitude later that she remained holding onto him. While Winnie and Fred chattered on aimlessly about the oddities of London, Georgecould only focus on Penelope, and how the approaching ball would act like her final farewell at the same time.
When the carriage came to them, they climbed in one by one, each pairing taking one side of the compartment. Fred rubbed his belly after eating too many sweets, and Winnie smiled fondly at him. George felt rather stiff and tense in his own seat, keeping his gaze locked on the trees passing by as they moved towards the townhouse. Halfway through the ride, he felt Penelope shift from beside him, soft breaths coming from between her lips as though she slept.
Careful not to move too much, George glanced over to see her fast asleep on his shoulder. She leaned against him fully, her lips slightly parted and angled up towards him. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and George had watched countless sunsets light the horizon sky on fire in western America, a sight unseen by most men. And yet, Penelope drifting into a deep sleep, fully trusting him enough to lean against him, was like gazing upon an angel.
