Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
P enelope and her mother were practically swept off their feet the moment they arrived at Blackmoore Manor. The entire household appeared to be in a flurry of activity as the butler took their bags and explained that their rooms would be ready shortly.
Even before they had stepped into the drawing room, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore was already calling out to them.
“Oh, you little dears!” she exclaimed, her hands clasped together in excitement. “Come in, come in!”
Her energy was so infectious even Mother couldn’t help but smile. “You look well, Gertie.”
Once the two friends had released each other from their hug—still showering each other in compliments—their vibrant host turned her attention to Penelope, pulling her in for cheek kisses.
“My, my, what did I do to have such a lovely goddaughter?” the dowager duchess’ kindly eyes beamed.
“Oh, Your Grace, I’m sure you say that to everyone.” Penelope chuckled.
“Not so!” The older woman shook her head fervently, “Honestly! You and your mother are one and the same—always doubting the compliments paid to you.”
She lightly pinched Penelope’s cheek. “You are beautiful, my dear. And I’m no liar. Now! Sit yourselves down and we’ll have them bring in a fresh pot of tea. I want to hear everything!”
Penelope stole a concerned glance at Mother but was surprised to see that she actually seemed somewhat enthused.
I can already feel the weight in my chest easing.
The servants arrived with tea, biscuits, cake slices, and fruits galore.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to John’s funeral, especially after you were so wonderful to me when my Barry died,” the dowager duchess sighed, filling their teacups. “But as I explained in my letter, we happened to be in South Bridlar at the time.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” Mother squeaked out. “In truth, I hardly knew where my own hands and feet were the entire time. The only reason we got anything done at all is because Penelope has been so wonderful.”
The duchess reached for Mother's hand. “Thank Providence for our children, no?” she smiled. “I don't know what I would have done after Barry’s death if it wasn’t for- Oh, but this isn't about me. Carry on, my dear, I’m sorry.”
Penelope sipped her tea, inevitably noting the stark contrast between the two older women before her. Yes, they both had full heads of white hair done up in neat little buns and laugh lines around their eyes, but Mother looked ever so frail next to her gregarious friend.
The dowager duchess did a wonderful job of steering the conversation towards more lighthearted topics: the newest fashion styles, upcoming parties, new recipes learned, and so on.
However, Penelope noticed one main aspect of conversation that had yet to surface: the gossip. Any tidbits could prove vital in helping Penelope accomplish her goal.
Returning her cup to its saucer, she waited for an opportunity to nudge the conversation in that direction.
“Oh, we simply must go together!” beamed the dowager duchess. “The Marchioness of Oakhurst took me right after we got back from our trip, and I haven’t been able to get the songs out of my head since.”
Ah! There’s my chance.
“The opera sounds lovely, Your Grace,” Penelope chimed in. “And did you mention the Marchioness of Oakhurst? I thought I read something the other day about her daughter-”
“Oh, I’m sure those reports were greatly exaggerated,” the host cut her off rather uncharacteristically.
Penelope did her best to hide her confusion at this peculiar reaction—but she evidently didn’t hide it well enough because the dowager duchess suddenly apologized,
“I hope you’re not offended, pet.” She fidgeted with her hands. “Most gossip is just- it's not even worth paying any mind to.”
“You are quite right, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled, somewhat surprised that the dowager duchess was evidently quite fond of the Marchioness of Oakhurst’s family.
It seems I shall have to find another source to learn of new prospects. she sighed to herself.
The discussion once again resumed its original course, but Penelope found it more difficult to focus this time.
In our rush to come here, I haven't even had the chance to read today’s paper.
She discreetly scanned the room for the paper—silently hoping that it was within reach—but to no avail.
Suddenly, the drawing-room door swung open.
“Mother! Do you need me to pick up any- Oh, good morning.”
Leaning against the frame with one hand on the doorknob, stood an attractive man with dark hair. His well-built physique would normally render him quite intimidating, but this effect was immediately countered by his warm smile.
He blinked his bright blue eyes at them. “Very sorry, I didn’t realize our guests had already arrived.”
The women rose from their seats as he sauntered towards them.
“You’re even more handsome than I remember!” Mother exclaimed.
He kissed her hand in greeting. “Please, there’s no need for such flattery between friends, Lady Punton.”
The dowager duchess clutched her son’s arm. “Dearest, this is Countess of Punton’s daughter: Lady Penelope. I’ve never been able to properly introduce you two what with your schooling, traveling, gallivanting, and who knows what else.”
He playfully rolled his eyes at this remark, before bringing a hand to his mouth as he pretended to whisper, “Don't believe a word! She always exaggerates.” He winked at Penelope.
Penelope had always known that Her Grace had a son. But their family moved away from Pelshead when she was very young, so she didn’t remember meeting him at all.
However, being formally introduced to him now, she wondered whether that was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps she was being too harsh, but based on the arrogance with which he carried himself, the duke seemed like the sort who expected everyone to bend to his will.
He reminds me so much of-
She gasped as he took her hand and added with a flirty smile, “I look forward to us becoming... better acquainted, Lady Penelope.” Penelope remained unimpressed, but offered him a polite smile regardless. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Grace.”
Upon hearing this, his expression faltered—just for an instant. But he quickly resumed his smiling, easygoing manner.
Penelope couldn't help but scoff.
What? Was he expecting me to swoon? She sighed. Well, he certainly seems like the type that’s used to that sort of attention.
With greetings and introductions properly exchanged, everyone returned to their seats. To Penelope’s surprise, the duke sat himself down in the armchair right across from hers.
“So... what are we talking about?” he asked, reaching for one of the biscuits.
“With all due respect, Your Grace...” Penelope raised an eyebrow, “ we were discussing the upcoming events for this Season while you were evidently on your way out.”
He leaned forward amusedly, dusting his hands. “My, my, you’ve been here for all of what, perhaps an hour? And you’re already kicking me out of my own house.”
Penelope shrugged innocently. “I was merely answering your question, Your Grace.”
“Must you really go out today, dear?” interjected the dowager duchess. “Wouldn’t you much rather save your energy for tonight?”
“The ball doesn’t start until nine o’clock!” He waved a dismissive hand. “What’s the harm in running a few quick errands while I have the chance?”
Penelope almost choked on her tea.
“Something to add, Lady Penelope?” He lowered his eyes at her.
“Nothing, Your Grace.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s no surprise to me that you are a gentleman who makes the most efficient use of his time.”
He scoffed, “Are you implying that I don’t actually intend to run the errands?"
“Oh, I’m sure you will, Your Grace.” She lowered her voice, “I just doubt that’s all you’ll be doing.”
“With such conviction, even I am inclined to believe you,” he folded his arms, “but you hardly know me.”
“We may have only just met, Your Grace.” Penelope let out a deep exhale. “But I am—unfortunately—all too familiar with your sort.”
As she said this, her eyes began to well up, but Penelope mustered the strength to fight the tears back.
His eyes widened in intrigue, making her immediately regret her words.
“Oh really?” He glanced at her hand. “Is that why a captivating lady as yourself still doesn't have a wedding band?”
Penelope clutched her left hand.
“Duncan!” his mother exclaimed.
But Penelope wasn’t backing down either. “That's a good question, Your Grace. But perhaps you would care to explain the wedding band missing from your own hand first.”
“I would, but it’s a boring story.” He shrugged, leaning forward once more. “A much more interesting one would be how you and I could amend each other’s lack of wedding bands-”
“No!” Penelope cut him off, mortified.
“Duncan, that’s enough!” the dowager duchess chastised. “I suggest you apologize to our guests and take your leave now .”
“All right, Mother.” He held both hands up in defeat. “I shan’t tease her any longer.”
As he pushed himself up from the armchair, he flashed Penelope another smile. “I’m sorry to cut our lovely chat short, my fair lady. But maybe you would care to continue it tonight at Ashfordshire’s ball?”
“Mother and I won’t be attending, Your Grace.” She returned his smile—albeit sarcastically. “But I’m sure you’ll manage just fine without us.”
After he had finally left them, Penelope felt her shoulders relax, realizing for the first time just how tense he had made her.
“I really do apologize.” The dowager duchess rubbed her temples. “Please know that he doesn’t mean any of it, he’s a good man.”
Penelope did her best to conceal her skepticism at this remark. After all, of course, the rakish duke’s own mother would be the first to overlook his behavior.
Even so, Penelope felt sorry for her. At least now she understood why the dowager duchess was so averse to any gossip at all—her son was probably responsible for half of it.
“I understand, Your Grace,” Penelope sheepishly answered, “and I apologize for provoking him in the first place.”
“In truth, he would have found a way to tease you regardless,” her host sighed, “but at least he made one good point while he was here: perhaps you should come with me to the Duke of Ashfordshire’s ball tonight, I assume you also received an invitation, yes?”
“Er...” Penelope looked over at Mother hesitantly, “yes... we did get invited, Your Grace but Mother is still in full mourning, and it’s been quite the journey to London so-”
“I shan’t force you, my pet,” the dowager duchess assured her, “but even if your mother cannot come, I would be more than happy to chaperone you myself. You might find it refreshing!”
Or I might find a potential suitor. Penelope realized suddenly.
“On second thought, Your Grace, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”