Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
P enelope shot to her feet. The Duke’s words echoed painfully in her head.
Pay off a debt. Promised his daughter’s hand in marriage.
For a moment, she wondered if Alicia had felt the same way all those years ago when the mere threat of an upcoming scandal overturned her life.
The anger that festered below her skin was aimed at only one man, and that was their father. Fueled by lasting rage at the late Marquess, Penelope had never been like her gentle sister. And besides, Alicia had always strived to achieve a marriage. It was the life she dreamt of. Another difference: while most ladies were wed and giving birth at her age, Penelope thrived in her independence.
And now, her father managed to involve himself in her world once more from beyond the grave.
Also, unlike her sister, Penelope never backed down from speaking her truth, from saying the words that lay at the tip of her tongue. She turned toward the Duke.
“How dare you?” she shouted, the clarity of her voice bouncing painfully against the walls of the drawing room. “Do I look like cattle to you? An animal looking to be bought and sold?”
The Duke never once flinched, only looked up at her with the same slightly amused smile he had worn since entering Egerton Manor. “If the contract suggests such a notion, I am not the one to blame. I wasn’t even in England when it was written and decided upon. Like most aristocratic men–” He paused, flashing a smug smile. “I am only here to honor it.”
“What intelligent person would honor something written without their involvement?”
“My,” the Duke mused, turning his attention to Owen, “She’s a feisty one.”
Owen flinched as if he could feel Penelope’s anger grow. “Your Grace, might we -”
“Society men,” Penelope huffed, shaking her head at him. “What a gentleman you are!”
“Never once did I claim to be one. Shame on you for assuming.”
“ Shame?” Penelope raised a pointed finger, aiming it at his chest. “If you think for one second that I’d -”
A cold and clammy hand snapped around Penelope’s arm.
“Sister,” Owen whispered, eyes wide and heavy with exhaustion. “Might I speak with you in private?”
Though it felt like she had no choice in the matter, Penelope couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. The look on her brother’s face was one of despair, one that threatened to crumble in front of a powerful Duke. Her heart ached as she met his stare. How could she forget the one who carried the heaviest of the burdens her father left behind? Guilt flooded her heart. Out of all people, he deserved her patience.
“Of course,” she replied, hoping that the determination in her eyes could inspire Owen to hold his head higher.
Owen kept his grip tight on her as he stood, giving the Duke a bow before excusing himself. Walking behind her brother, Penelope let him drag her out, unable to pull her eyes away from the smug Duke. He looked rather proud from his spot on the sofa, a patient smile tugging at the corner of his lip. His calm demeanor and enduring self-restraint almost drove her wild. How dare he act as if none of it mattered, as if the contract affected no one?
Bringing her out to the foyer, Owen released his hold on her and began to pace. He held his chin thoughtfully, lips moving as though he were talking to himself. Penelope watched, noticing how his skin turned a paler shade, nervous sweat trickling down his temple. She stepped closer, fighting the urge just to grab him.
“Owen,” she whispered, surprised at how much she sounded like a scared child. “Are you truly considering this?”
He paused, eyes snapping up to her. “Of course not.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“That being said–” Owen went back to pacing within the second. “We’d need to find a solution if we want to stand against a notarized contract. A fast solution,” he murmured, too quiet for her to hear; when he looked back up, there was a faint shadow of a smile across his lips. “And I’m struggling to find one.”
Penelope nervously twirled her hair around her fingers. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, Penelope.”
She frowned, unable to stand the notion of having to leave the burden in Owen’s lap. “I can speak to Mother. Perhaps she knows -”
“Don’t,” he interjected, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t get her involved.”
“Why not?”
“Penny, things have finally hit a rhythm here at Egerton. Alicia runs her own household,” he explained, deep stress apparent in the lines on his face. “I am engaged. You are -”
“I’m what?” she pressed her lips together, not eager to hear what he had to say.
He eyed her, sighing loudly. “You are here, Penny.”
Penelope couldn’t stop herself from shrinking away at his words. He didn’t need to say much to invoke the feeling of responsibility on her shoulders. It was easy to avoid responsibility when she was younger, even when it was time for her debut. As the years passed, and Penelope grew happier with her independence and her animals, a haunting remorse grew alongside it. Not that she regretted doing what she wanted, but rather, she could not forget the disappointment in her mother’s words.
Nothing sounded better than remaining a spinster, living out life alongside the animals she lovingly raised as her own. Alicia’s life was not one she yearned to live. And yet, it felt closer with every passing minute.
Owen began to pace again, arms twisted behind his back. “There is a contract,” he muttered. “A well-written one, at that. And since the Duke is asking for it to be honored, refusing outright could mean legal trouble.”
Penelope inhaled sharply. “Really? The law could be involved?”
“The courts just might if we refuse.” He took a few steps towards her. “This has to do with paying off a debt, Penny. That is serious business. Sometimes, it can ruin a family.”
Penelope looked away, knowing that he referred to their father.
“To avoid it would mean to gather the attention of the law if the Duke wished it so.” Owen looked away, seemingly growing paler. “And that could mean…”
Penelope didn’t need him to finish the sentence to know where he was heading. Owen’s betrothed was the daughter of a Duke, which inherently put their marriage on higher standards. Not only that, but the Duke was conservative and traditional, and the Caneys’ past already caused skepticism about their marriage. Despite the Ton no longer referring to their father’s scandal, it couldn’t erase it all from history. To that very day, Owen still fought to please his future father-in-law and prove the Caney’s worth to London’s bustling society. Owen spent years working towards the marriage, repairing the finances their father left behind, all the while caring for his sisters and aging mother.
No one deserved a happy ending more than Owen.
“Do you trust me, brother?”
He stopped pacing, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why?”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes, Penny, of course, I trust you.”
She sighed, looking over his tired face. “You know I love you, do you not?”
“Penny,” Owen laughed, turning away from her in an embarrassed way. “What’re you getting at?”
“Wait here, Owen.”
“But, we -”
“Trust me!”
Still barefoot, Penelope marched back down the way they came, turning to reenter the drawing room.
The Duke no longer sat on the sofa. With his hands behind his back, the Duke looked over sketches of the decorations Penelope’s mother planned to put up around the Manor. There were bouquets in extravagant vases, folded-up curtains, and even a few new portraits in wooden frames. He leaned down, getting a good look at the painting of Alicia and her growing family.
“Your Grace,” Penelope called out.
He flinched, surprised at her presence. Turning, he faced her, eyes once again drifting to her dirty bare feet. He looked to be holding back a laugh. “Lady Penelope.”
“Why would a man of your stature wish to be wed to a stranger?”
The Duke frowned, raising a brow at her. If he was taken aback by her blunt directness, he worked hard not to show it. He left the table of decorations, slowly crossing the room. “My lineage calls for it.”
“I won’t lie and say I’m not surprised,” she said.
“That I marry to befit my status?”
Penelope scoffed. “Of course not. That you’re so willing to admit it.”
“Were you expecting a different answer?”
Shaking her head, Penelope held back her relief. She allowed herself to take some comfort in his words. The last thing she needed was an attachment she refused to have. That being said, she went in expecting the worst possible outcome.
“I suppose not,” she fibbed. “So, this would be a marriage of convenience for you? Nothing more?”
“If I were looking for a love match, I surely would not be here.”
Penelope raised a brow, wanting to take offense to how blatantly he admitted that. Not a bit of her cared enough, though. It wasn’t like she was looking for a love match, either. “Very well,” she said. “I will marry you.”
“I’m surprised,” he said, smirking at her. “From how the Ton talks, I thought it’d be like pulling teeth to come to an agreement.”
“I wasn’t finished.” Penelope ignored the idea of the Ton gossiping and finding fault with the way her life turned out.
The Duke laughed. “Is there something else you’d like to add?”
“You have placed my brother’s future in some doubt,” Penelope said. “And for that, I have some conditions I expect to be met if I am to follow through on this contract.”
“ If you are to follow through?” the Duke repeated, raising a brow. “I don’t think the Caney name could withstand another scandal.” His lip began to curl devilishly as he teased. “Do you?”
“You underestimate my family.”
The Duke laughed louder this time. “You have such a sharp edge, my Lady. Take a deep breath and calm yourself.” He shrugged, still smirking. “I expected you to have conditions. I only teased.” Waving a hand at her, he added, “Let’s hear them.”
Ignoring the way his bantering got beneath her skin so quickly, Penelope held her hands behind her back, repeating what she wanted to say in her mind. “I want a cottage,” she said. “To live out my days independently. There needs to be a small stable, large enough for a single mare. And a yard, one that is parallel to expansive woods, if possible.”
The Duke slowly nodded. “Very well, then, I -”
“Once again,” Penelope interjected, irritation laced in her voice, “You have spoken as if I said I was finished.”
He huffed. “Apologies, my Lady. Please,” he said sarcastically. “Go on.”
“Where will we live after we are wed?”
His eyebrows raised.
Finally, Penelope thought, I truly surprised him.
“The townhouse in London.” The Duke looked out the window, and his lip curled unpleasantly. “It is London Season, is it not?”
Penelope nodded with a shrug. “What’s your point?”
“Why are you here, in the country?”
“It isn’t any of your business,” she snapped, holding her chin up. She hadn’t attended aristocratic society in years, and for good reason. When Owen began courting his fiance, he resided alone at the townhouse, with their mother visiting to attend a ball or two. Penelope remained at Egerton, ignoring their efforts to convince her to do otherwise. “If we will live in the townhouse, I will need to bring my animals with me.”
“What kind of animals?” he asked apprehensively.
“Dogs, and one cat. As well as my mare, Fiona.”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t pry. “So be it. I can make the arrangements.”
“And…” her voice trailed off, the confidence wavering for a moment. Perhaps her leverage would soon run out, and she pushed too far. The Duke already seemed so nonchalant about the lack of propriety in the drawing room, and she feared society’s standards would suddenly return to him. Penelope fidgeted in place, searching for the words again.
The Duke watched expectantly, passing by the table to shorten the distance between them. “Yes?”
“And I need an end.”
His eyebrows wound together. “End?”
“You seek a marriage.” Penelope drew herself upright. “To improve your relationship with the Ton. To seem a respectable Duke. Correct?”
The Duke nodded.
“Then when you have achieved your goal,
I would be free to go live in the cottage. Alone , with only my animals.”
The Duke’s lips parted in surprise. He searched her face for a moment, his brown eyes lingering far too long on her own before a smile began to grow. “You speak like a businessman.”
“Why, you - !” A rush of heat swarmed Penelope’s face.
“Calm yourself, Lady Penelope,” he said. “I only meant it as a compliment. It’s right to the point, and I like that.”
A different kind of warmth befell her. Penelope stammered, surprised as to how close he suddenly was. Her height allowed her to feel some sort of self-confidence around other people, but it was strangely different next to the Duke. He towered over her, casting a dark shadow. Penelope fought a surge of anxiety it all brought.
“I have plans to open a stud farm,” the Duke explained. “If everything goes well, it’ll be finished in two months.” An amused smirk spread across his lips. “Does that schedule suit you well, Lady Penelope?”
Despite the urge not to look him directly in the eye, Penelope found herself unable to pull away. The intensity was too alluring, and her shock almost left her frozen. But there was one thing on her mind that kept her focused, kept her grounded in the moment. Two months sounded like nothing, barely even time to sacrifice if it meant the future she had always dreamed of.
Penelope held his stare and nodded. “Yes, your Grace, it does.”
The Duke extended his hand towards her.
Reaching, Penelope took his warm hand into her own.
A shiver unexpectedly ran up her spine. She never would’ve realized how cold her palm was until she held his own, the warmth radiating below her skin. She was unsure if the butterflies that danced in her stomach were from the Duke’s skin against her own or the approaching fear that everything in her life was going to be flipped upside down.
The smirk he wore spread into something mischievous.
“It’s a bargain, then.”