Page 72 of His Wild Duchess
Penelope traileda finger along the mastiff’s snout, his warm brown eyes blinking lovingly as he looked up at her. The longer she ran her hand over his face, the more his short tail began to wag, causing the others to grow in excitement too. Brutus leaned over her shoulder, his tongue rolling out the side of his mouth. Sadness touched her heart. She could not imagine givingthe animals the attention they needed throughout the day if her mind was clouded by the ball. She didn’t even know what was in store for her at Yeats Manor, or if there was something expected of her upon their arrival, and yet, something told her that there would be more than she could ever imagine.
If the pack remained at the townhouse, at least their day would not have to be altered according to the gathering. Penelope would not be burdened by guilt when she was forced to put her attention elsewhere. And the staff at the townhouse knew well enough by that point what the dogs needed, or how to find Butternut within her countless hiding spots. Though it all pained her, Penelope rose from the bed, clearing her throat to grab Mrs. Howard’s attention.
“The animals will remain here, at the townhouse,” she said, though there seemed to be no confidence behind her words. “As long as we can ensure the servants will know how to care for them. I know Clarissa is comfortable with them, but I’d prefer she traveled with me.”
Clarissa beamed from behind the housekeeper.
“Worry not, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said with a pleased smile. “It will only be for two nights, nothing more. I’ll have a stableboy or a groom sent up to tend the beasts for you.”
Though the housekeeper had no intention of offending Penelope, she found herself bristling atthe woman’s words. The sensible part of her knew that the dogs would be quite unhappy in a Manor full of people they did not know. Despite them nevertruly knowing it, Penelope knew that this option would be easier for them all. Standing from the bed, she spared herself the time to say goodbye to each one of them. Mrs. Howard remained fixed at the door, holding Penelope’s traveling gloves and a wide-brimmed hat for the summer sun. Ignoring the housekeeper’s persistent and impatient presence, Penelope kissed each dog at the top of their head.
Breathing a sigh, Penelope took her leave, forcing herself to remain looking forward as the pack eagerly went to follow, only to be halted by the shut door.
“The ride to Yeats Manor will be an hour or two,” Mrs. Howard was explaining as she led the way through the townhouse. “Everything you need is in the trunk. Clarissa will organize your things once you arrive.”
“Mrs. Howard,” Penelope asked, taking a few long strides to keep up with her. “Might you warn - I mean,tellme of what duties will be required of me once I arrive?”
“Nothing more than the ordinary, your Grace,” she replied.
Penelope remained tight-lipped, embarrassed at her inability to even know the ‘ordinary’.
“Directing the final decorations,” Mrs. Howard suddenly began to explain, giving Penelope a small smile. “Approving the music the orchestra has prepared. Finalizing the menus, checking the wine, those sorts of things. Most of the work is finished, it only requires your approval.”
At the front door, the servants lined up. Penelope peered out the opened door, catching a glimpse of George beside the carriage, helping the rest of the staff load the trunks. He looked bright with excitement, Fred and Winnifred chattering on alongside him. Penelope wanted nothing more than to be in the same mindset as them, basking in the possibilities of it all rather than the responsibilities.
“I wouldn’t worry, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said.
Penelope sighed. “Is it obvious?”
“It is your first ball as a Duchess. Hosting in your own home, your Grace, is new and, perhaps even frightening.” The housekeeper bowed down respectfully. “Try to enjoy it, if you can.”
Trying to repeat Mrs. Howard’s words in her head like a psalm, Penelope made her way out of the townhouse, donning a wide smile when the Millers noticed her. They climbed into the carriage one by one, and before she knew it, they were on the road to Yeats Manor.
Yeats Manor had a long path that led directly to its front doors. The path was divided into two halves, a long rectangular man-made stream slicing between them. Trees, tall and casting a canopy over the path, bordered the path on the outer edges. Statues made from marble, with an incredible attention to detail, were poised at the river’s corners, designed to look asthough the figures poured the water into the rectangle from their basins. It was a lovelysight to see, something that looked as fantasticalas Vauxhall Gardens.
Around the river were places for torches to be lit. According to George, they would be lit up before the guests arrived, acting as a beacon to guide them towards the Manor. Penelope was entranced as the carriage followed the path, barely a bump in the road. Winnifred and Fred were too busy teasing George about the extravagant quarters to pay too much attention to everything outside the carriage’s windows. Penelope’s eyes clung to the Manor itself; it was multiple stories high, with architecture that reminded her of castles in the storybooks she used to fawn over.
As they exited the carriage, going up the stairs to the main entrance, Penelope was gobsmacked. More servants than she could imagine bustled through the foyer, carrying large vases full of blossomed tulips along with trays upon trays of cured meats and sliced fruits. Even the wine glasses, polished till they shone under firelight, looked priceless. She breathed a sigh at the relief she felt for not bringing the animals. Not only would the staff be thrust into a nightmare, but Penelope doubted the dogs would be at all comfortable with the hectic nature of preparing for a ball.
“George,” Penelope had asked a little ways into the afternoon, after she had already spent hours approving placements of chairs and sofas, “Was all of thistrulynecessary?”
He had shrugged. “You know what the Ton thinks of me. I am nothing more than the…how do they put it?”
“The American Duke,” she mused with a smirk.
George grinned. “Let us give them the most English ball they could ever imagine! They’ll be flocking to view and acquire my horses in no time.”
Penelope made herself a promise at that point, when the evening took hold and the ball loomed on the horizon. She would be the greatest she could be, for George. She might be his wife in name, but there was no telling how long she had left to be his partner. The the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. This ball would push him forward in the Ton’s eyes, even if they didn’t know it yet. Somehow, some way, she’d make sure it did.
The next day, when the preparations came to a culmination, the guests began to arrive as the sun inched closer to the horizon. The servants went out to light the torches surrounding the river, and the guests were in awe. They filtered in one by one, each going on about how the ‘American Duke’ managed to bring sophistication to his home. Despite that, they never once wavered from their suspicions, not once letting up on the fact that George would remain an outsider for as long as they wished.
Penelope, alongside George, remained within the foyer at the beginning of the evening. The guests expected to be greeted by their hosts, though Penelope had a feeling that it was a duty that rested more upon her shoulders as the Duchess. At first, it was a simple task. The Ton knew her very well, and their interest was obviously leaning more towards George and his American friends. It wasn’t until a group of familiar faces passed throughYeats Manor’s threshold that Alicia allowed herself to drop the mask, and breathe a heavy sigh of relief.
“Mother,” Penelope said, reaching to embrace her.
Lady Caney, dressed in her best gown, streaks of grey now lingering in her locks, held Penelope had a distance to give her a once over. “Look at you,” she mused, a pleased smile on her face.
“What?”
