Page 81 of His Wild Duchess
It had to be done. If not then, at some point, and perhaps waiting would only make it worse than it already was. Penelope gathered her courage, remembering how she was once so sure of herself. Before George, the future was laid out for her. Everything was as simple as it needed to be, and she never batted an eye towards a thing like marriage. But, before George, there was no gentleman who had bantered with her. Before George, no gentleman adored her animals as much as her father once did. Before George, she thought she was the only one like her in all of London.
She lifted her head, feigning the smile on her face when devastation racked through her. “We have received news,” she said. “The cottage is ready.”
Winnie’s face didn’t hesitate to fall. She shot a stare at George, then back at Fred. Finally, her gaze landed on Penelope, a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear, dimples popping out in the sweetest way. “Dear Pen,” she murmured, “I’d hate to see you go.”
“D-Don’t look at it like that,” Penelope said, swallowing the rise of emotion in her voice. “By no means does this mean I am gone for good. You know that, right?”
The smile on Winnie’s lip twitched into something sad. “Sure,” she said, “But it just ain’t the same.”
Fred cleared his throat, wrapping an around around his arms shoulders before giving her a tight squeeze. “Penny, we’re mighty happy for you,” he quickly said. “Just know how glad we’ve been to know you, and we can only pray for more time.”
The words sunk deep into Penelope’s skin. Without even thinking, she turned, focusing her attention on George. He seemed to be in another world entirely, eyes clung to a random spot in the table. His jaw was rigid and tense, and she ached to reach for him, to hold him till he relaxed and looked like himself once more. There were so many words trembling at the edge of her lip, begging to be set free if he would just say the word. If he could look at her, even. Just the slightest bit of a sign.
Penelope’s lips parted as he turned, ever so slightly, tempting her with the hope she didn’t realize sat right above her breast. A smile twitched at her lip, readying herself to fall in his arms, to tell him it wasn’t what she wanted.Just one word,she thought to herself.Please, George.
He turned away.
Penelope exhaled, the breath she had been holding passing between them like the ghost of what their future could’ve been. Looking back across the table, she caught the stares of the Millers holding onto her, both of them watching her in a rather pitiful way. Penelope breathed deeply, and stood from the table.
“I plan to leave in two days,” she said.
George lifted his eyes, one brow raised ever so slightly. And suddenly, he smiled, tilting his head in an innocent sort of way that managed to spark butterflies in the depths of Penelope’s stomach.
“Whenever you are ready, Penelope.”
She blinked. What was she expecting? After all, George never once told her not to go. After their kiss, he gave her every reason to believe it hadn’t changed a thing. Their deal had finally finished. She was meant to reap her rewards. George was meant to run his stud farm, and make a new name for himself in London’s society. He was practically halfway there, and Penelope was still stuck at the beginning.
But then, she pictured him at the ball, so gallantly talking about his endeavors with the stud farm, and the ownership of Vaun. That steed was an incredible accomplishment, one that he’d never be able to replicate in England. Penelope softened as she watched him, returning his words with an honest smile. George deserved to part with her, to focus his future on the horses himself. Penelope wouldn’t dare to hold him back.
Hiding her disappointment behind the pride she felt for him, Penelope swallowed the tears. It was what George wanted, and she cared for him so much that she’d hand it right over to him.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “George.”
CHAPTER 24
The days carried on in agony that Penelope felt to be personal, an outright attack on her very being. Each moment felt like the last of her life, as if she was being sent to a whole different world entirely. Clarissa’s quirks and incessant conversation reminded her of being a child herself, when she used to ramble off in Alicia’s ear about the books she read and animals she found. The Millers would remain in London for a few more weeks, but nothing substantial. There might not even be time for them to come to the cottage before leaving, when they already planned to travel the country before leaving, to see the great London tracks and horses. Penelope wouldn’t dare take them away from it for a thing as silly as visiting her.
Penelope and Winnie took their daily walk with the dogs more often than usual, spending more time lying in the grass and staining their dresses. Fred joined them a time or two, intent on hearing more about Penelope’s past experiences with horses. In the end, her mind was elsewhere, gazing up at the townhouse where George remained in his study.
The day before Penelope was set to leave, Mrs. Howard had a lovely feast planned for their evening meal. She made the menu herself, conferring with the cook and the rest of the staff.
“I might feel better with a simpler meal,” Penelope said to her as they walked through the halls for the last time.
“Heavens, no, your Grace,” the housekeeper said. “Before travel, a hearty meal is required. You’ll be moving into a new home,” she paused, Mrs. Howard’s usually pinched face growing rather soft and gentle. “And won’t have a soul to help you, your Grace.”
“Luckily I’ve had a wonderful teacher,” Penelope mused, tucking her arm around Mrs. Howard’s. “I may be a Duchess, Mrs. Howard, according to the law, but I hope you might bless me with a letter every now and then.”
Mrs. Howard glanced over at her in surprise. “Are you…Do you mean that, your Grace?”
“Of course,” she replied. “And we can start our correspondence with you addressing me as Penelope.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Howard said, a smile across her thin lips.
Penelope left her at the end of the hall, giving her a bow of the head as she crossed the foyer. In the distance, she could’ve sworn she heard the housekeeper whisper her name, just barely, the word so light it got caught on the gentle breeze. Penelope, touched by the housekeeper’s kindness, continued her walkthrough the townhouse. Most of her things had been pack and loaded into the carriage already. Clarissa worked extra hard that morning to make the transition as smooth as possible. Penelope had an inkling that the lady’s maid might’ve been a bit sad, and used it to avoid her.
Not that she was bitter over it. Penelope did not wish to lose the friendship either.
Penelope wasn’t entirely sure why she was lurking through the halls. She smiled at the passing servants, pausing to say a few words to the ones she knew by name. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to be done other tha reminisce and wallow. Her animals, upset in their own right, were all around the house and remained elusive to her. Perhaps they wished to remain, and tried to hide before it was time to leave. It was sweet, but Penelope knew they’d follow her out when the moment came.
