Page 80 of His Wild Duchess
Sadness twinged at Penelope once more. She watched the lady’s maid move through the room, a light skip to her step now. She hadn’t once thought about missing Clarissa, but now that she knew that the cottage was ready to be lived in, she found herself realizing the things she’d be forced to leave behind. And the idea that it brought her despair worried her even more. Ever since George had kissed her, Penelope realized the truth that had lainwithin her all along, a truth she could not dare say aloud.
Penelope did not want to leave the life she had fallen into alongside George.
She touched her lips once more, her hand fluttering to her shoulders, where George had held her so firmly. It was more than she had ever imagined. Not only was it her first kiss, but it was something she never thought would happen with him. Forsomeone who was so tall, who was so broad, whose hands were littered with callouses from his work in the New World, George was incredibly gentle, and she never once felt afraid when he held her. Not one bit of him would hurt her. Penelope knew that simple thought without a hint of doubt.
But how he felt about the kiss itself eluded her to that very moment. He was so lock-lipped, so sure to keep his true feelings hidden behind his masking expression, that it left Penelope questioning every word he had ever said to her. Perhaps the things he said to make her feel better were nothing more than that. Words to make her feel better, to make her go back to the ball. Her mouth opened in surprise. Perhaps…perhaps George had kissed her to sway her where he needed her to go. They were, in fact, still enmeshed in a deal, weren’t they?
“You look so sad, suddenly, your Grace,” Clarissa said as she rounded the bed, holding Penelope’s clothes for the day over her arm. “Can I brighten your mood?” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “I won’t ask you to tell me of the ball again. Promise!”
Penelope turned her face away for the fear of crying once more. George truly did want her to leave, after all. Hehadbeen trying to tell her about the letter he received when he came upon her crying. He hadn’t come to her just to come to her. Penelope’s shoulders fell even further. Squeezing her eyes shut, Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to expel the thoughts that threatened to overtake her if she wasn’t careful.
Going to the cottage and living on her own was what she wanted in the first place. It couldn’t be that hard to fall back into thatmindset, to remember why she was at Yeats Manor after all. Turning back to Clarissa, Penelope gave her the widest smile she could muster.
“I believe I am hungry,” Penelope said.
Clarissa laughed. “So hungry it made you sad, your Grace! Let’s get you changed to attend breakfast.”
Penelope rose from her bed, telling herself that the moment she was able to put some distance between herself and George, she’d feel back to herself. All she needed was some perspective, to remember what was waiting for her in that snug cottage.
Perspective and distance.
The round table in which they dined at for breakfast was beautifully illuminated by the rising sun. Tall windows were behind the table, creating a cozy nook that was incredibly warm and inviting. Penelope waded in long after her companions had already begun eating, their conversation simmering into something more quiet when she took her seat. A plate of food was presented to her, but her stomach twisted at the sight of it, her eyes flicking over to glance at George. He flipped through letters absentmindedly, not raising his face to acknowledge her presence.
“Mornin’, Penny!” Winnifred suddenly perked up, taking a sip from her teacup. “Didn’ see much of you last night.”
She swallowed, keeping her eyes down. “There were lots of guests, Winnie. I don’t recall seeing you either.”
“Point taken,” she replied with a loud laugh. “Sad we’re goin’ back to the townhouse. I felt like a Queen here.”
George scoffed.
“Somethin’ to say, Georgie?”
Lifting his head from his papers, George’s eyes fell on Penelope within an instant. His lips parted, a sharp exhale leaving his mouth before he snapped his attention away. Shaking his head, the amused smirk returned to his face as he turned to Winnifred.
“Wasn’t it you who was complaining about the Manor having too many rooms?”
“Well,” Winnie cooed, “If I was aQueen,it wouldn’ matter much, now would it?”
Fred reached for his wife’s hand, snatching onto it before holding her fingers below his lips. “My darlin’ Winnie,” he drawled, pausing to press a kiss to her nails, “I’d make you a Queen forever and build a Manor even bigger than this back out west.”
George rolled his eyes.
“Now,thatis how you treat a woman, Georgie,” Winnifred snapped. “Take notes.”
Once again, George’s gaze landed heavily on Penelope. She scooted around in her chair, unsure of what his stare said. When she glanced at him, he looked away like a child caught where he wasn’t supposed to be. Penelope turned her attention back to the plate, an ache burrowing itself deep beside her heart. It was as if a hole grew there, growing larger the more George pulled away from her. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and Penelope felt the sadness begin in herself the closer they came to the end date.
The end dateshehad insisted upon.
As ironic as it was, it left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Darlin’ Pen,” Freddie said from the other side of the round table. “You’ve got the saddest frown.”
“Don’t poke at ‘er, Freddie,” Winnie hissed, giving him a firm smack across the shoulder.
Penelope gave them a smile. “I-It isn’t out of sadness, Fred. I am merely… thoughtful.”
“Well, let it out!” he shouted. “Gonna put a hole in your head from thinkin’ too hard.”
