Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
G eorge doubted he’d ever be able to get used to seeing Penelope riding upon Vaun as though he were nothing more than a child’s pony. Not only that, but he had never realized how thrilling it was to see a woman as uniquely beautiful as Penelope managing to tame a frightening looking stallion. Sure, his size made him stronger than other breeds, but it was the midnight colored coat and lustrous black eyes that brought experts and aficionados to their knees.
To Penelope, Vaun was only another horse, one that deserved the same love and affection as any other. George watched as she rode the stallion around the short path outside of the townhouse, dirt and grass kicking up all around them. Even though she was only riding him, there was something about it that caused George’s heart to soften, as though he watched her care for a child or a wounded animal.
After a short tour of the townhouse, Winnifred complained of sore ankles and a pounding ache in her temples from the long travel, and insisted on taking herself to bed. George had yet to show Fred how Vaun had been coping with the location change, and if he’d settled comfortably into his new life. They went out into the yard, expecting to spend a moment or two in the stable, only to see Vaun running wild and free with Penelope holding the reins. Fred eagerly jogged forward when they caught sight of her, as Vaun was the horse he had spotted in the wilderness all those years ago.
“Well, I’ll be,” Fred murmured. “Wasn’t he wild?”
“You remember as much as I do how wild he was.”
“But no longer?”
Sighing, George tucked his hands within his trousers, unable to stop himself from grinning as Penelope sped by them, still unaware of their presence. “You tell me, Freddie.”
Fred would never outrightly call himself a horse expert, despite being exactly that. Growing up in western America meant being surrounded by all kinds of wildlife, including horses much like Vaun. Wild mustangs frequented the hills around Fred and Winnie’s farm, and some of their blood ran in Vaun himself.
“Can’t say I’ve seen somethin’ like that,” Fred said. “You know what I’d give for a talent like that, Georgie.”
“I hear you.”
“In all of London,” Fred continued, “How’d you manage to get a hold of a woman like that?”
George chuckled. “Better not let Winnie hear you talking like that.”
“Now, I said, in all of London, Georgie.”
Letting out a loud laugh, George nodded, holding up his hands defensively. “You got me there, Freddie. And I told you before. Marrying Penelope was nothing other than a burst of luck. The one good thing my father managed to leave for me.”
“And you’re sure it’s fake?”
George side eyed him irritably. “I’d know, wouldn’t I?”
“Well, now I’m not too sure of that.”
Ignoring that last comment, George focused his attention back on Penelope. As she came around a curve, dipping close to them but still not acknowledging their presence, George caught a glimpse of a wild and carefree smile that had overtaken her face. Whether or not she knew it, the expression lit up her entire person, creating a beautiful creature that had to have been torn right out of a storybook. George found himself enthralled as if he were a schoolboy reading fairy tales.
“For someone who claims to be in a fake marriage,” Fred suddenly drawled from his right, “You sure look like that’s your girlon that horse.”
“Lord, Fred, don’t say that here.”
“What?”
George lowered his voice. “Girl. She’s, ah…”.”
“What, is that a cuss word over here?”
Rolling his eyes, George focused his attention back on Penelope, her auburn hair flying behind her like a torch. “You know what I mean, Fred.”
“How you Londoners say anythin’ you truly mean, I dunno.”
“Don’t start with that again.”
“Fine,” Fred grumbled as he leaned against the stable, hands tucked within his suspenders as they watched Penelope in the distance. “How ‘bout we start with that young lady again?”
George found himself unable to take his eyes away from her. “What about her?”
“Didn’t you tell me earlier that your marriage was nothin’ more than a contract?”
“Well, that’s exactly what it was. My father, the late Duke, signed an agreement with Penelope’s father, when they both needed to right their previous wrongs. I happened to find my father’s side of the agreement when I had returned from the New World. It was only fair to honor it.”
“Was?”
George glanced over at him. “What?”
“You said was,” Fred repeated, raising a thick brow at him. “‘That’s exactly what it was .’ Your words, Georgie!”
“Slip of the tongue,” George muttered, despite the feeling in his heart that insisted on saying otherwise.
With his gaze holding onto her, Penelope began to lead Vaun slowly towards the stable, where they stood. He doubted he’d ever get used to the idea of seeing her riding a half-wild stallion, looking incredibly calm and collected. There was not another woman in all of England who would have the same grace as her, the patience and stamina to woo and coax such a beast into willing submission. It was an incredibly rare skill, one that George doubted he’d have the chance to witness again.
Admiration, pure and simple, was written all over his face as he watched her.
“You never mentioned she had a way with horses.”
“It was a rather recent revelation,” George replied. “I told you she had a way with animals.”
“Sure,” Fred mused. “Ain’t no other animal like a wild stallion.”
“Well, if she has tamed feral, stray dogs, I don’t see what’s so different about Vaun.”
Fred eyed him sideways. “You best not be overlookin’ what you’ve found here, Georgie.”
“I haven’t got a clue what I’ve found here.”
Without another word, Fred delivered a resounding smack to George’s back, shoving him forward a few steps as Penelope approached with Vaun. She raised one eyebrow as George stumbled closer to her, her hands protectively tightening on the reins.
“Careful, now,” she called out. “Wouldn’t want to spook him.”
“Course not,” George grumbled, turning to give Fred a nasty look over his shoulder.
Fred blithely gave him a thumbs-up, coming forward himself. “Mighty lookin’ thing you’ve got there, Penelope,” he said as he tucked his hands through his red suspenders. “I ‘member when that stallion was still a wild beast, roamin’ the plains.”
Sliding down from the horse without any assistance, Penelope looked over at Fred with wide, curious eyes. “You knew him from before?”
“Well, sure!” Fred took an enthusiastic step forward. “Whole reason why Georgie here was able to wrangle ‘im up was ‘cause of me and Winnie, that’s for sure.”
“How wonderful,” Penelope breathed. “I had no idea.”
George glanced helplessly between them, suddenly feeling as though he were nothing more than a child. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, standing firmly beside Fred with a raised chin. “He flatters himself, darling. The rider is the true tamer of the stallion.”
“Speakin’ of riders,” Fred said, his voice loud and echoing in the yard, “You’ve gotta be quite experienced to hold your own on a creature such as Vaun.”
Penelope smiled sheepishly. “My mare, Fiona, is a retired racehorse. Anything I know surely came from her.”
“Well, I’ll be!” Fred laughed, clapping a hand over George’s shoulder. “You know, horses like Vaun don’ take all that kindly to strangers. They’re as particular as you and I.”
Penelope looked up at Vaun, running her hand down the length of his neck. “He has always been rather kind to me.”
“Then that shows your character!”
There was an obvious shift in the atmosphere as Fred began to talk to Penelope about horses. Her face looked more open, eyes wide and listening as she fully faced Fred. Vaun rested beside her, lowering his head so as to lean it against her shoulder. She absentmindedly petted him while talking, the movement obviously soothing any anxieties the stallion felt about the men being across from him. George watched the interaction and found himself growing more and more eager to be involved, to have Penelope look at him in that way rather than Fred.
Lost in his thoughts, George missed a sentence or two of the conversation, rejoining reality when Penelope threw her head back in an honest laugh. George’s gaze clung to her in that moment, watching the laugh lines peer out around her eyes and lips, the way a smile took over her entire face the moment she allowed it to. He was bedazzled, utterly and entirely, unable to pull himself away from the happiness that radiated off her.
But then Fred spoke again, and she laughed some more, and the irritation began to burrow its way into George’s chest. Glancing over at his friend, he felt the oddest thing take over him, a long-buried anger almost ruling his actions, if he wasn’t careful. In a split second, George was suddenly ready to shove his friend flat, upend the horse’s oat bucket over his head, or do anything desperate to get him to stop talking to his wife.
My wife? h e repeated in his head. Since when was Penelope not just…Penelope?
Shaking his head, George suddenly recalledthe moment after the last ball they attended, and how close they ended up in the townhouse’s foyer. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel her presence directly in front of him once more, her warm breath fanning his face pleasantly.
Perhaps…perhaps George found himself jealous.
“Aren’t you listenin’, Georgie?”
Pulled out of his thoughts, George blinked a few times before focusing on Fred. Him and Penelope had made their way to the stable doors, and were waiting for George to follow.
“I beg your pardons,” George quickly said as he followed behind them.
Fred smirked. “Somewhere else, Georgie?”
“Thin ice, Freddie,” he said, snapping his fingers at him. “You’re on some thin ice.”
Letting out a low chuckle, Fred bumped his elbow into Penelope’s side, muttering to her, “Sounds more and more like my little lady every day.”
Penelope giggled, glancing over her shoulder at him with a smile that hadn’t quite faded. As she led the stallion into his stall, Fred and George hung back near the front, where Fiona curiously watched from the back of her own stall.
“I suppose this is your retired racehorse?”
“Fiona,” George said.
Much to all their surprise, the mare’s ears seemed to perk up at the sound of George saying her name. Even more surprising: she waded forward, coming to the stall door and stretching her muzzle out hesitantly at him. George, who had not expected the sentiment whatsoever, cautiously stepped towards her, extending his hand for her to smell before daring to encroach on her boundaries. Once Fiona sniffed and snorted at him, but did not move away, George inched closer, letting his hand fall over the mare’s head.
George rubbed his hand between Fiona’s ears, smiling to himself as she nuzzled him.
“Have you done this before?”
George looked over his shoulder at Penelope. With Vaun back in his stall, the saddle removed and hung back up on the wall, she stood directly behind George, her green eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“No,” he replied. “Is she not a friendly mare?”
“Not outright.”
George looked back at Fiona, smirking. “Then I suppose you aren’t the only one with some innate talent, darling.”
She stepped closer, running her hand along Fiona’s neck at the same time as him. Penelope watched his hand move, her lips slightly parted as though there were a few words trapped on the tip of her tongue. George watched her out the side of his vision, feeling on the edge of his seat with anticipation, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for. Could it be a few words that managed to cure his jealousy, even though he had no idea on what could possibly accomplish such a thing?
Just with her standing beside him, Fred positioned behind them, felt gratifying enough. Let the jealousy come, even when he had no sense of understanding it. In the end, he stepped closer to Penelope, their hands almost grazing by each other.
“Penelope,” Fred suddenly said, “I was tellin’ George not too long ago that we oughta do somethin’ to celebrate our arrival, don’t you think?”
Her eyebrows raised. “If George suggested it, then I don’t see why not.”
George’s brow furrowed as he shot Fred a stare, his hand leaving the mare. There had been no discussion of doing anything to commemorate their arrival, besides a large dinner and a few expensive bottles of wine he had been saving. There was too much to do for him to even think about distracting himself with some other thing.
“Now,” George began, “Hold on one moment. I didn’t -”
“Did you hear that, Georgie?” Fred interjected as he threw an arm over George’s shoulder. Within an instant, he did the same to Penelope, drawing her close to his wide stomach. Resentment flared within George again, but he swallowed it before saying something he would’ve surely regretted later.
Fred beamed from ear to ear. “No need to fret! Pen here would love to do somethin’ fun,” he exclaimed, giving him a few suggestive winks.
Rolling his eyes, George racked his brain for somewhere to take them. Not that he cared much for aristocratic society, but he knew that the Ton would find much to talk about with the arrival of the American couple. Surely their gossiping would continue on for the rest of the season without a doubt as to what there was to discuss. There was no place to go to avoid it, and George found himself lacking in minding it. He glanced over at Penelope to see her gaze locked onto him.
“There are always the Vauxhall gardens,” George finally said.
Penelope’s eyebrows shot up once more. “I have never visited Vauxhall.”
“Truly?”
“Is it as spectacular as they say?”
Before George could respond, Fred laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and startling the horses as they began to make their way out of the stalls.
“We Americans shall be the real test as to whether they are spectacular or not, dear Pen. Just you wait!”
As they made their way out of the stables, back up towards the townhouse, the evening grew ever colder. , George found himself trailing behind, his eyes caught on Penelope’s figure. While he had expected his American friends to visit him sooner rather than later, everything in the future seemed to grow further complicated rather than easier. Soon, the cottage would be ready for Penelope. The stud farm would be finished even quicker. Time was running out, and George was distracted by a growing dilemma
How fake did he truly believe their marriage to be?
And better yet: how much did he truly want it to be nothing but a sham?