Page 14 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
“Your Grace,” Penelope said when she noticed him. She did not wear a smile or look particularly pleased to see him. “It is nice to see you.”
“Your Grace,” he answered formally as he started carefully down the stairs. “As it is you. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.” That was a lie.
“I would think not,” she said simply as she started toward the base of the steps. “I thought to send word ahead, but seeing as I was invited, I wasn’t certain it was necessary.”
Dorian paused halfway down the staircase. “Invited?”
“There was no date attached,” she continued. “But urgency was presumed. And I thought it best to get started immediately, rather than wasting time exchanging letters.” She shrugged. “Again, I hope this is –”
“What do you mean, you were invited?” Dorian hurried down the stairs. “Invited by whom?”
She frowned. “By you. Unless there is another duke living here?”
“I…” He reached the lower landing, his head already starting to throb. “I have no idea what you are -- who invited you? To what end? Is this some sort of a joke?”
Closer now, Dorian could see clearly the uncertainty in his wife’s eyes. This whole thing… “strange” did not come close to covering it. Despite this woman being his wife, she was effectively a stranger, and he had hoped when he left three years ago that it would stay that way.
“You wrote me,” Penelope explained, albeit with less confidence. “First, an invitation to the party you are hosting –”
“Invitations have not been sent,” he cut over her.
“They have been…” She tilted her head as she studied him, searching for the lie. “I was sent one, as were my sisters. And with that invitation you sent me a personal note.”
“I did not such thing.”
“I am not lying.”
“You are not telling the truth either.”
He saw the side of her lip twitch with frustration. Then she fiddled for a moment with her purse, producing from it a furled letter which she held out for him to take. “See for yourself.”
Dorian snatched the letter and scanned it quickly, at which point his stomach knotted so he thought he might be sick. It was indeed a letter written to Penelope, asking her to pay him a visit and stay with him so that she might help him arrange the party he planned on hosting. What was more, it was signed in his own hand.
“She has lost her mind,” Dorian groaned because he knew well who had sent this letter.
“Who?”
“My…” He caught himself, because Dorian did not speak of his sister to anybody, and that wasn’t about to change now. “I did not write this letter,” he said instead. “You have been tricked.”
“Oh.” Penelope blinked. “You are sure?”
“Of course I am.” He exhaled sharply. “Did you really think that after all this time, that this is how I would choose to contact you? Did you not stop to question the logic behind it?”
Her expression darkened. “And how exactly am I meant to have any notion of what you deem as logical? The little I know of you, who is to say that this is not normal fare? Do not speak to me as if I am some sort of fool.”
“I was not –”
“Three years it has been since we last spoke,” she spoke over him. “More fool me, thinking that my husband might want to see me after all that time. What a silly notion to have.”
Dorian could see her growing angry, for which he couldn’t exactly blame her. It was easy to forget about Penelope and what he had done when she lived hours away and was out of sight. But now, face to face, he was forced to reckon with the consequences of his actions like he never expected or wanted to do.
“I understand that you might be upset with me.”
“I am not upset with you,” she said quickly. “Do not presume that I would waste such emotions on a man who would not do me the same courtesy.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Now, are you or are you not throwing a party in the coming weeks?”
“I am…”
“And am I right in assuming that you need help? Such an undertaking is sure to cause a certain amount of difficulty.”
