His Wild Duchess (Fate & Circumstance #2)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

P enelope remained alone for most of the day after their spontaneous trip to the cottage. Everything raced within her head, the moments that led up to that point and everything that would come after. Every second she dared to let her mind linger, George’s face from their extrusion came back to her, in the moments where he watched her with such raw intensity. It all haunted her as if he were nothing but a ghost.

She found solace within her animals, and the quiet company of her lady’s maid, Clarissa. Though she never once quite felt like a Duchess, or even just a Lady, Clarissa was the only aspect of that title that she didn’t mind. It wasn’t like she served her constantly, but she was a steady presence that was more soothing than she might’ve realized. Clarissa didn’t have to be talking or doing anything. All she did was watch the animals, pet a few and lay alongside them on the floor, and Penelope felt quite satisfied lying alongside her.

The next day, the only thing Penelope wanted was to feel the sun on her skin like she had before. London had such beauty to offer, when she wasn’t stuck in the townhouse bedroom, listening to the sounds of the dogs breathing and house staff moving to and fro outside her door. After Clarissa had come and gone for her normal morning responsibilities, Penelope gathered the pack, guiding them to follow her as calmly as possible out the bedroom.

“Your Grace,” Clarissa asked, suddenly rounding the corner. She had a basket full of embroidery in her hands. “I thought we could do some embroidery for when Yeats Manor finishes getting refurbished.”

“That sounds quite…” Penelope let her words trail, unsure if she’d even be able to stomach telling the girl a lie. “Engaging,” she managed. “But I thought the dogs could do with some time outside.”

“They went yesterday, didn’t they?”

“You know,” Penelope began, not bothering to hide her amusement, “They need to go out quite regularly.”

“Do they really?”

Penelope sighed. “How about you set those down and come with me?”

“Oh, I-I couldn’t possibly do that. I have chores, and -”

“And here I was under the assumption that you were my lady’s maid,” Penelope drawled, raising a brow at her. “Or was I wrong?”

“Of course not!” Clarissa said. With a sudden eagerness, she set the basket down at a nearby table. “Let us take them out!”

Penelope grinned, eagerly taking the company.

Together, they made their way through the townhouse and out the back door, into the small area of land that surrounded it. The dogs ran out into the field immediately, playing and chasing each other around the lot. Clarissa jogged after them, a bright smile on her face as the wind carried her arround. Penelope stretched out her arms, breathing in deeply before letting herself fall backwards, landing firmly against the grass on her back.

“What’re you doing?” Clarissa called out, her figure appearing like a dark silhouette over her. “Your Grace -”

“Try it, Clarissa!”

“Oh, your Grace, you know I really shouldn’t do that.”

Penelope raised a hand to block out the sun. “But is it bad if I’m telling you to do it?” She raised a brow, beckoning Clarissa to lay in the grass beside her. “I am the Duchess, after all.”

Clarissa was only hesitant for a moment more. As though she had been waiting all her life for someone to ask her to lie on the grass, Clarissa eagerly knelt beside her and dropped to the ground. Immediately, she breathed a deep sigh, her eyes fluttering shut. The clouds parted all around them, the sun cascading its full stare over them.

Penelope smiled, listening to the sound of singing birds and yipping dogs. The blades of grass tickled her skin, swiping against her fingertips. She scooted, getting cozy within the warm ground, moments away from letting herself drift into a light sleep, when someone cascaded over her.

“Mrs. Howard!” Clarissa called out, shooting up from the ground like a mountain. “Forgive me, Mrs. Howard, I was only -”

Penelope leaned up on her elbows. “I asked her to accompany me, Mrs. Howard,” she said, squinting her eyes on the housekeeper's pinched and sour face. “It is a wonderful day. Won’t you join us?”

“You might find me much harder to convince, your Grace.”

“Want to give it a try?”

The housekeeper’s face remained unchanged: stoic and cold. Her gaze snapped over to Clarissa. “Why don’t you stay out here and watch the animals, Clarissa, so that Her Grace may attend to business with me.”

“Of course, Mrs. Howard,” Clarissa replied, walking a little ways to keep track of the dogs.

Penelope remained on the ground. “What things did I just get signed up for, Mrs. Howard?”

“Do you remember signing a marriage contract, your Grace?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“Do you happen to know what wedding a Duke entails, your Grace?”

With a sigh, Penelope began to rise to her feet, taking her time in order to irritate the housekeeper even further. Remembering her own scolding housekeeper from Egerton Manor, Penelope smirked, enjoying the banter even if Mrs. Howard didn’t take it in the same way.

“I suppose not, Mrs. Howard, but I’m sure you’ll explain it to me.”

Giving her a sideways look, Mrs. Howard turned back towards the townhouse. “There are plenty of things to do on a weekly basis,” she explained. “Even though we are not at Yeats Manor, I have a list of tasks that require your approval.”

Penelope bristled, remembering the things her mother would do around the estate. “What sorts of tasks?”

“Since you’re here, it is your responsibility to set the menus, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said as she started to walk back into the townhouse. “We will do that first, then visit the study to approve some of the repairs being made at Yeats Manor. And, of course, the salaries need adjusting during these hectic times.”

Standing at the entrance back into the townhouse, Mrs. Howard looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Penelope but seeing that she was still a little ways away.

“Come along, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard called out, “We have much to do and little time to get it done!”

Penelope let out a heavy sigh before following behind the housekeeper, taking one last look over her shoulder as the dogs ran amok around Clarissa. What I’d give to be that lady’s maid right about now, she thought to herself as the door shut behind her. As she began to follow behind her, she tried to imagine how difficult it would be to do all the things Mrs. Howard listed. It seemed like simple work, signing a few papers and handing out bags of coin.

Holding her chin up, Penelope made herself a promise to work through it as confidently as possible. If her sister, Alicia, could handle it all, how could it be so hard for her? The sooner it was finished, the quicker she could get back to the things that really mattered.

Mrs. Howard moved with the speed of a hare. She whipped around corners and practically jogged down halls, all without ever breaking a single sweat. Penelope found it to be the most thrilling part of the entire thing. She moved fast to keep up with her, eager to let out some energy like the dogs did outside.

Finally, Mrs. Howard turned into the kitchen. “Your Grace,” she said, extending an arm over the bountiful baskets that took up counters and cabinets, “This is the harvest collected this week. Typically, we will plan the menu around it. Does that sound right to you?”

“Well,” Penelope mused, eyes glanced over the sacks of carrots and potatoes, “If we’ve already got it, we should use it.”

Mrs. Howard’s eyes narrowed, though her words never held a tinge of disrespect. “Exactly, your Grace. The cook sent out a few hunters early this morning, and we’re well-supplied with rabbit. Within the next few weeks, we should be fetching deer and pig from the market.”

Penelope’s stomach took a sour turn as they discussed the meats. Her mind wandered, imagining the hunters returning with carcasses and animals. Shuddering, she turned away, keeping her eyes focused on the sheet of paper Mrs. Howard wrote on.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Howard said. “Are you listening?”

Shaking her head, Penelope met her stare. “W-What were you saying?”

“Would you rather have the menu focused on rabbit or something else?”

“If we have the rabbit, then -”

“We should use it,” Mrs. Howard finished. “I remember.” She turned, continuing on writing over the sheet.

Penelope leaned forward, trying to get a look at what she wrote but unable to see it well. Turning, she focused her attention on the baskets of produce. There was so much to choose from, and enough to feed more families than she knew off the top of her head. Reaching, she grabbed onto an apple, sinking her teeth into it. The juices splashed and splattered, dripping onto her dress and across her face.

With the heat of embarrassment spreading across her face, Penelope pulled the apple out her mouth, chewing on the large chunk while she felt Mrs. Howard’s judgemental gaze cling to her.

“Perhaps we may continue on to the drawing room,” Mrs. Howard said as she gathered up her papers. “I might finish writing the menu, and you may begin going through the repairs on Yeats Manor.”

Swallowing the apple, Penelope felt a pit grow in her stomach as her confidence waned. If there was one thing that she knew for sure that she wasn’t good at, it was being the thing that society wanted her to be. The moment she was meant to follow through on the duties required of her as a Duchess, they became the things she had been bad at all her life. Following behind Mrs. Howard, Penelope ate her apple despite the bad taste it left in her mouth.

As they passed by a study, Penelope caught a quick glimpse at George. He stood beside a wide window, a few papers in his hands. His lips moved absentmindedly as he read the pages, flipping through them rapidly. She moved quickly down the hall as he started to turn, his gaze only catching the wispy ends of her auburn locks.

Mrs. Howard lead her into a drawing room, where there was a round table and a few chairs set up all around it. The housekeeper lowered her work onto the table before crossing to a desk, retrieving a stack of envelopes and placing them down in front of where Penelope stood.

“What are these?” she asked, reaching forward to touch the pile. “There are so many!”

“Those are the requested repairs for Yeats Manor.”

Penelope laid them out, counting more than twenty. “I’m supposed to go through them all?”

“They are all of the same importance, your Grace,” Mrs. Howard said, though she looked rather smug about it. “Each request requires your input and your approval.”

Sitting down at the table, Penelope felt as though the walls were slowly closing in on her as she began to open her first envelope. They were, in fact, everything the housekeeper said they would be. Rather than being exciting literature that managed to keep Penelope entranced, it was nothing more than business talk, questions regarding the future of Yeats Manor and what she planned to see done with it.

“Mrs. Howard,” Penelope asked after she had finished reading the first letter, “How am I supposed to approve these changes if I haven’t seen the Manor at all yet?”

“I’m sure you can imagine it,” she replied. “Or simply think about what it is you’d like to see in your future home.”

Penelope swallowed, the words ‘future home’ repeating in her brain like a mantra. Obviously no one else other than her and George would be aware of their deal and how it granted her freedom in the end. Someone like Mrs. Howard wouldn’t understand, and she’d probably have a few words of her own pertaining to the matter.

Time dragged as Penelope tried to get through the letters. Her gaze would drift to the windows, to the steadily rising sun and slow moving clouds. Everything within her ached for fresh air, to be out in the open with her animals once more. As she glanced out the window, her eyes caught onto the small stables behind the townhouse, where Fiona the mare rested and waited for her.

After a few more silent moments, Mrs. Howard began to gather her things. “All finished with the menus for the week, your Grace,” she said, sliding the paper down the table. “Won’t you take a look for me?”

Penelope snagged onto the sheet, holding it up to read the housekeeper’s neat handwriting. It listed out evening dinners for the week, all simple and based on different cuts of rabbit. Though she had always enjoyed whatever came out of a kitchen, there was a newfound anxiety alongside it. If she approved the menu, and George despised it, would that mean she failed in her duties?

Sighing, Penelope handed the paper back. “It all looks splendid, Mrs. Howard.”

“Perfect. I will deliver this to the kitchen. Why don’t you stay here and finish those approvals?”

Before Penelope could even think to argue, the housekeeper bundled up her things and left the drawing room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. Glancing around the room, Penelope began to rise from the table, leaving her half opened envelopes in disarray across the surface.

If she were to be the Duchess, as Mrs. Howardinsisted on reminding her, than what was stopping her from saving her duties for another time? The housekeeper already finished the menus, and Penelope looked over the bountiful harvest enough to know each product from memory alone. And as for the letters, none of the repairs would be going anywhere. The architect would remain at Yeats, and work would resume. Perhaps she’d wait for all the final requests to come through before finishing it.

Penelope shrugged, completely satisfied with her own reasonings as she confidently left the drawing room. But not before stopping by the kitchen for a handful of carrots.

Adrenaline rushed beneath her skin, but she kept it hidden deep within, waiting for the moment she got the chance to break into the outside. The servants she passed all bowed their heads respectfully, the notion still making her feel quite odd inside. As she came to the back of the townhouse, where there was a door that led directly into the land behind it, Penelope made her exit, finally appreciating the title she had gained when marrying George.

Penelope burst out into the outside, the hot spring air grasping onto her and not letting go. Eagerly, she ran down the field to the stables. It had been weeks since she had last ridden on the mare, Fiona, and knew how pent up that made the creature feel. Ready to shower her steed with treats and love, Penelope crept into the stables.

“Hello?” she called out, expecting a stablehand to be nearby.

Silence, besides the movement of the horses, responded back to her.

Penelope grinned. She preferred it this way, anyways. She passed by a few empty stalls before coming across Fiona, her white coat shimmering even in the dim lighting.

“My dear girl,” Penelope called out to her, putting her feet on the bottom of the stall door to lift herself a few feet in the air.

Fiona stepped forward, nuzzling her long snout through Penelope’s rambunctious hair.

“I hope they’ve been treating you well,” Penelope said as she ran her hands through Fiona’s coarsemane. Jumping down from the stall door, Penelope opened it up, and crept inside.

With the ease of long practice, Penelope snatched up a brush, and began to drag it along Fiona’s sturdy body. The horse remained still, her ears twisted forward in a comforting manner. The more she stroked the brush along Fiona’s coat, the easier it was to forget about the time she spent alongside Mrs. Howard. If there was anything that the day proved, it was that the life of a Duchess was not one she ever hoped to see for herself.

Out from within the pockets of her dress, Penelope pulled out her hidden carrots, holding them one by one beneath Fiona’s snout.

The mare huffed with pleasure when she noticed them, lowering her nuzzle to munch the carrots. Penelope smiled, listening to the loud crunches and chews as she continued to brush along her coat.

The stable grew noisy for a moment, as the other horses that rested inside stamped and snorted.

“And it sounds like you have some acquaintances,” Penelope mused once Fiona had finished eating her carrots. Lowering the brush, she left the stall, careful to make sure the door was closed behind her. Curiously, she began to walk through the rest of the stable.

There were a few smaller horses, ones of a size comfortable for Penelope to ride. Near the back of the stable, though, hidden by shadow, was a creature unlike anything Penelope had ever seen before.

Standing taller and broader than a small racehorse mare like Fiona, the beast within moved further back into its stall the closer Penelope came.

Penelope gaped, her eyes growing wide. “Well, I’ll be,” she murmured. “Y-You’re a stallion, aren’t you? I’ve seen artwork or read about you in books but…never in person.”

The stallion stamped a hoof, his ebony coat shining and sleek. A long bushy tail came from his back, thick hair falling down his mane to match. Even his feet bore long black fetlocks. Everything about him was awe-inspiring, from his incredible height to the black of his coat.

“You are a beauty, aren’t you?” Penelope mused, keeping her voice low and steady. Looking down, her eyes glanced over the stable, searching for anything that told her his name or where he came from. Near the upper corner of the stall, a wispy piece of paper had been nailed to the door, a simple word written on it. “Vaun,” she mumbled.

The horse jerked his head.

“Vaun?” she called out, raising her voice. “Is that your name?”

The stallion held her stare, backing up till his behind hit the back of his stall.

“Do not be afraid,” she murmured while opening up the wooden door. “You’re from the New World, aren’t you?”

Vaun struck one front leg to the floor as she drew nearer.

Holding out her hand, Penelope retrieved another long carrot from her skirts. “I can’t imagine how frightening this must be for you,” she continued, slowly extending the carrot towards his long snout. “To leave your home and friends, and come here, where you can’t even recognize the earth.”

Vaun’s eyes, warm and brown despite the sheer ferocity of his size, held onto her as though she were the only thing he could see. Cautiously, he sniffed, leaning forward to the carrot.

“We’re a lot alike in that way, you know,” she mused.

The steed leaned, munching on the end of the carrot.

“I’m sure you just want to get back outside, don’t you?”

Rather quickly, Vaun finished the rest of the carrot, leaning forward to sniff her hand for more. Without hesitation, he pressed his snout against her stomach, almost tickling her as he sniffed and searched for another treat.

“I’m afraid,” Penelope said between giggles, “That was all I had!”

Vaun pulled back, as if he could understand her.

Reaching, Penelope dragged a hand through his long mane, scratching along his throat, and down the course of his back.

Within the stall was a large leather saddle, just waiting to be used. Glancing over her shoulder at him, Penelope eagerly grabbed the saddle, almost falling to the ground at its surprising weight.

“I wonder, Vaun,” she said as she stood up tall, trying to lift the saddle over her head, “If a simple romp outside might cheer you up!”

The stallion remained still, his back half directly in front of her. With a surprising ease, Penelope placed the saddle onto him, pulling the fasteners around his athletic belly. Vaun turned his head towards her, as though he were curious about what was happening.

“Haven’t you been ridden before?”

Vaun watched silently.

Shrugging, Penelope pushed open the stall door, quickly jumping out to leave the opening to the stable ajar as well. Returning to Vaun’s stall, she dragged her hands along his frame before turning to his saddle.

“Well,” she murmured, too eager to turn back now, “Here goes nothing!”

With both hands gripping the saddle, Penelope used all her strength to throw up her leg, and climb up the tall horse. It was unlike anything she had been accustomed to. Fiona was a smaller mare, giving her great speed and agility. It took next to nothing for Penelope to climb on her back when she was already taller than average. But Vaun, he was something else entirely. Not only did he stand taller than any horse she had ever seen, but the way his muscles moved and rippled beneath his thin coat was spectacular to see.

He was meant for the wilderness, to be running free.

Penelope fastened herself on the saddle, scooting around a bit till she was comfortable. The top of her head brushed by the ceiling as she gripped the reins, leaning down to rub her hand along Vaun’s neck.

“Go on, boy,” she whispered to him, “The outdoors is calling your name!”

Vaun faced the door. Slowly, he stepped out the stall, turning to creep out the stable. Penelope kept her grip tightly on the reins, not once allowing herself to feel the slightest bit of fear. The moment that happened would be the same moment that Vaun decided to throw her off his back and make a break for it. Trust, she knew, worked both ways, and if she didn’t show the steed that she had no worry of him keeping her safe, then neither one of them would end up returning safely to the townhouse.

Vaun stepped outside, the sun hitting his sleek black body immediately. Penelope’s breath was almost taken away when she realized how high off the ground she was. The stallion cautiously moved further outside, his ears twisting back and forth like a cat’s as he surveyed the area. While it wasn’t the large rolling hills he was probably used to, it was more than anything he might’ve seen within the stable.

Penelope patted her hand against his chest. “Don’t you want to -”

Before she could even finish, Vaun reared backwards, raising his front half in the air and letting out a high-pitched neigh. Shouting with surprise and glee, Penelope kept her hold tight on the reins, her boot-covered feet tucked securely at his sides. When Vaun landed on the ground, he took off, the dirt and grass kicking up around his feet.

Wind raced through her hair. Penelope lifted her arms, releasing her hold on the reins. The air whipped around her as though she were a bird in flight, soaring against the tunnels and waves of wind. It was the most freeing thing she had ever experienced. While nothing could ever compare to her days spent taking Fiona on the trail around Egerton, this moment was something new entirely, that she would hold incredibly dear to her heart.

Vaun seemed to enjoy it as much as she. He twisted around trees and lept over rocks, not once daring to even slow down. He sped around and kept going. At one point, his head leaned to the side, eye glancing over in Penelope’s direction, as if he wished to check and see how she was holding up.

Her hands gripped the reigns as she leaned forward, raising her bottom in the air while keeping her feet close to his sides. They moved even faster when she did that, feeling as though she might take off on her own at any given second.

Eventually, Vaun began to lower his pace to a gentle trot. She guided him with the reins back to the stables, moments away from jumping down to lead him back inside. Running her hand along his mane, Penelope leaned down, wrapping her arms around his thick neck.

“You’re a brilliant steed, Vaun,” she whispered against his skin. “You have made me happier today, and I doubt you’ll ever truly know it.”

Vaun neighed, throwing up his snout slightly, as if he understood.

As she lifted her head, her eyes landed on George, who stood outside the stables, a skinny and young stablehand looking nervous beside him. George held his hands on his hips, a look of utter disbelief prominently displayed across his face.

Penelope, feeling the change in Vaun’s heart rate beneath the saddle, slowly dismounted, keeping one steady arm around his frame.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” George shouted.

“You should know better than to approach a horse angry,” Penelope called out to him.

George’s eyebrows flung up, his face reaching a new shade of red. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, storming up to her. Vaun snorted and sidestepped uneasily/ “What, did you think him to be just another retired racehorse, easy to ride around and back again?”

“I am not a fool,” Penelope snapped.

“And yet, you’d ride a beast that is not yet tamed as if it were nothing!”

Penelope paused, glancing up at Vaun.

George kept coming, his hands wound into tight fists at his sides. “Tell me, now, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I -”

“God forbid the beast threw you off,” George continued, only a few feet away. “God forbid the pair of you were injured in your stupidity!”

Penelope stared up at him in shock, almost forgetting that Vaun was directly beside her. Sure, she had seen the Duke angry before, when her surplus of animals got in his way or managed to interfere with his business, but it wasn’t anything like this. She could tell that he enjoyed the dogs much as he berated them. But with the stallion, it was as though something else drove him wild in anger, ready to fling himself across the field towards them.

Before she could gather her thoughts appropriately to speak, the reserved and meek stablehand crept towards Vaun. He reached for the reigns that hung down around his neck, his body visibly shaking as his fingers managed to barely graze the horse.

Almost immediately, Vaun stepped backward and reared. The stablehand shouted, falling flat against the groundwith a sharp smack. Vaun’s legs were high in the air, moments away from crashing down over the innocent boy.

Penelope, no longer preoccupied with her thoughts, jumped in front of the stablehand, blocking Vaun’s sight of him.

“Calm, Vaun,” she called out to him, keeping her voice level and free of tension. “It is alright.”

The stallion’s front legs landed on the ground with a thud. He stopped backing away’ instead, he crept closer to her, his snout pressing against her extended hand with a loud exhale. Penelope reached around his neck, taking a firm hold of the reins.

“Don’t worry,” she said, turning to the stablehand that crawled backwards away from them, “I’ll take care of him.” Still holding onto the reins, Penelope walked him to the stable, approaching George with a defiant look on her face. “Don’t you see? There is nothing to be so worried over. Vaun and I work quite well together.”

George glanced around, his gaze stuck on Penelope’s firm and confident grip on Vaun’s reins. He frowned before releasing a heavy, exasperated sigh. “Just…just tell me you’ll be careful next time.”

“What gives you the implication that I wasn’t careful this time?”

Raising his hands, George rubbed his palms over his eyes. “Why even ride him?” he asked. “You have a perfectly fine mare to take for a ride rather than a half-wild stallion.”

Rolling her eyes, Penelope tugged on the reigns to pull Vaun gently alongside her as she pushed the stable doors open wider. Ignoring the sound of George’s heavy footsteps following behind her, she guided Vaun into his stall to begin to remove the saddle from his back.

“Why must you feel the need to do things you shouldn’t?”

Penelope shot him a glare. “When did this become a general accusation? Did I not just take your precious feral beast on a ride?”

“Don’t act like this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

Undoing the fasteners, Penelope lifted the saddle off Vaun, holding it above her head and replacing it against the hook where it was displayed on the wall. “He seemed to want a ride,” she said matter-of-factually. “All I did was -”

“What? Help him out?” George scoffed. “It’s not like you can talk to him.”

“Sure, if you expect him to answer back in the way we talk, then no he can’t.” Penelope considered. “Though if he could, he’d likely be more polite than you.”

George raised a brow. “So, he told you to take him for a ride.”

Ignoring the way he sounded, Penelope grabbed a brush from the wall and began to drag it along the base of the horse’s stomach. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t patronize me.”

Remaining quiet, Penelope could feel George’s stare on her, watching as she finished brushing Vaun. The stallion remained still, not showing any signs of hostility or discomfort. His heartbeat beneath her palm was steady and strong. Not once would she have assumed that he was a half-feral horse, unwillingly to let any riders near him. Vaun never gave her that impression, and she never walked in assuming it. She glanced at George for a split second. He looked rather impressed, and it sent a heated blush across her face.

“Perhaps you should treat him like any other steed,” Penelope said as she began to leave the stall, slipping by George. “Rather than let him sense your unsteadiness and nerves.”

“Nerves,” he repeated with a raised brow. “What nerves?”

She scoffed, shaking her head but not rebutting. Leaving him standing there, Penelope reached into Fiona’s stall to run her hand over her snout. “If you’ll excuse me, I left Mrs. Howard in a rather rushed manner. I should find her before she thinks I’ve abandoned her completely.”