Page 9 of His Wild Duchess
“Watch your tongue,” he snapped, giving her an impatient look. “Aren’t you going to be living in London for the rest of the Season?”
“I am,” Penelope replied.
“Then perhaps you should find another word to express your frustrations,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “Or rather, don’t bother expressing it.”
“Well, thank you, brother, for such astounding advice.”
Owen reached, rubbing his fingertips into his temples. “Good Lord, have mercy on the Duke of Yeats.”
Penelope pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why it matters.”
“I’m sure you can expect to attend some sort of social event while you’re in town,” Owen said. “I doubt someone like the Duke would stay out of it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Owen paused, eyes narrowing as if he said something he wasn’t supposed to. “What did I say?”
“Don’t play that game with me, brother. What does that mean?”
“Let’s just say,” he said, lips pressed tightly together, “before the Duke left for the colonies, there were some…rumors circulating in the Ton. Ones that happened to follow a certain kind of man.”
“Can’t you speak plainly?”
Owen shot her an annoyed look. “A rake, Penny. They called him a rake.”
Her eyebrows shot up. The information didn’t exactly surprise her; it seemed to be expected of a man with the attitude he had. What startled her, though, was the idea oflivingwith him. It was well understood between them that the marriage was nothing more than a business deal, and their partnership for the next two months would be just that—a partnership.
“Doesn’t that worry you?” Owen asked.
Penelope shrugged, rubbing behind Titus’s ears till he gave off a deep grumble, eyes slowly falling shut. “Not at all, brother.”
He sighed, seemingly done with trying to speak with Penelope. She took comfort in it, spending her last moments as a spinster petting her greying wolfhounds.
Despite the marriage’s short notice, members from both sides of the family gathered rather enthusiastically to see the wedding. Penelope held back her bitterness. She knew that, for every guest on her side of the family, their attendance only had to do with one thing: seeing the long-time spinster finally walk down the aisle.
As the carriage rolled up to a quaint church within London’s busy city, Penelope decided to accept their attention with pride.
The carriage door opened, and a footman stood beside it, extending a hand to help her. She stepped out of the carriage, immediately feeling the inviting heat of the sun on her skin. A smile spread across her lips at it, the wedding becoming a distant inconvenience for a moment. Penelope strode across the street, holding her head up high as the final guests entered the church.
From behind, Owen clambered out of the carriage, the hounds Titus and Brutus following at his heels. Penelope heard their steps behind her and watched the onlooking guests gape in astonishment. Most of them turned to someone beside them, whispering quickly while they stole glances at the haphazard bride.
Standing at the church's threshold, Penelope was about to start walking down the aisle when Owen snagged onto her wrist.
“Penny,” he whispered, “do not act as if none of this matters.”
She frowned at him. “Brother, I -”
“I know.” He sighed. “I know that you’re different, and I love you regardless. But this day can mean something if you’d let it.”
“I don’t want to.”
Owen looked away, searching the crowd for a moment. “Then, why not for Mother? She’s up there, right at the front. Can’t we make this something special for her to remember?”
Penelope’s frown deepened. A part of her only wanted to argue and push back at him. The truth behind a marriage meant too much for her to fake it. None of it was real, but rather, a pathway to something Penelope truly wanted.Thatwas what mattered. But the longer she looked into her brother’s face, the more she saw the young man forced to drop what mattered to him and repair everything their father ruined.
How could she argue when all he wanted was the best for everyone he cared for?
“Perhaps,” she mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze, “I can do it your way. For Mother.”
