Page 68 of His Wild Duchess
Winnie waited patiently at the back exit of the townhouse with the rest of the pack. They grew used to her rather quickly, and seemingly enjoyed her company as much as Penelope did. Winnie, unlike Penelope, liked to carry around a bag of treats in her pocket, keeping it tightly hidden till the moment was right. The dogs never expected it, even though she happened to do it every time they went on walks.
“Shouldn’t keep a nice girl like me waitin’, Pen,” Winnie exclaimed when she arrived. “The dogs and I get up to some real mischief when you ain’t around.”
“Good,” Penelope mused with a grin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Hooking her arm around her own, Winnie led them outside, the dogs rushing out the moment she opened the door wide enough. They sprinted into the afternoon day without a care in the wolf, chasing after each other while barking at the wind. Winnie and Penelope made their way down the usual path, arms wound together and quiet smiles on their faces. Though Penelope remained haunted by her future and the turmoil George left in her heart, she found great solace in those moments with Winnie. There was no need to worry about judgements or gossips, no need to dress how the Ton expected or refrain from speaking about certain things.
Having Winnie around was like having a sister nearby again, and Penelope didn’t realize how much she needed it till Alicia was gone.
“You look mighty cloudy today, Pen,” Winnie said after a silent round about the yard.
Penelope sighed. “I’d say thunderstorms linger over my head.”
“Thunderstorms?” Winnie repeated with a whistle. “Sounds like a serious problem. Care to talk?”
“I’m not quite sure what there is to say,” Penelope murmured.
Winnie tightened her hold on her. “The truth.”
Hesitating, Penelope’s eyes drifted up to the townhouse, where George would be somewhere inside. She wanted nothing more than to let it all out, to release all the things she had kept tightly wound inside. Despite wanting to, it was easier said than done, and Penelope found herself rather tight-lipped, even if she didn’t want to be. Sighing, Penelope raised her gaze to the sky, watching as a solitary cloud crawled over the sun, casting a dark shadow over them.
“It is too much to be put into words,” Penelope finally said.
“Sounds like love, to me.”
“Well, now, Winnie, I -”
Winnie grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Can’t deny it, can you?” Letting out a sharp laugh, Winnie’s eyes grew wistful and nostalgic. “Did Georgie ever tell you how Fred and I came to be together?”
“No,” Penelope replied.
“Something that you Londoners might not consider: we Americans struggle with love, too,” Winnie began. “Especially love that our families don’t like.”
“Was Fred not an approved bachelor?”
“According to my father,” Winnie said, “Fred was nothin’ more than a poor farmer with nothin’ but a patch of land out west tohis name. Father said he’d let our union take place when the pigs at the market could jump over the church.” She laughed with a shake of her head. “When Fred heard that, the man tried to buy as many pigs as he could, determined to make them fly one way or another.”
Penelope giggled. “It couldn’t have worked.”
“Well, we’re married, ain’t we?”
“But, Winnie, pigs don’t fly! That is unheard of!”
“Is it still unheard of if it’s for the one you love?”
Penelope paused, looking back down at the ground. “I suppose I’m not sure about that.”
“You’ll be glad to know that Fred didn’t make any pigs fly,” Winnie said. “But, hedidshow up at my house one mornin’, and demanded my hand in marriage.”
“Really?”
Winnie nodded. “No matter how many times my father denied him, Freddie kept tryin’.”
“And he said yes?”
“No.”
Penelope frowned. “But -”
