Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
P enelope wasn’t quite sure what she expected out of married life. For most women, it meant starting a family and popping out babies like it was a yearly affair. Some wives traveled alongside their husbands across the country, while others stayed home and waited for their return. Only a handful found real love, like her mother and her sister.
Sitting at one end of the dining table, Penelope raised a brow as she watched her husband.
The Duke, or George, as he wished to be called in only their company, had a stack of books on his side of the table, his sharp nose already buried in one. The plate of food given to him had been pushed aside, replaced by papers and a quill with ink. His hair was only loosely bound that morning, most of the dark strands falling over his face.
Penelope let her gaze drift to the window. Perhaps it was the day to take the pack outside so they could stretch their legs. She very much needed the air. Everything felt rather cooped up within the townhouse, with all the animals and the unusual tension between Penelope and George. She eyed him again. George was fully absorbed in his work, not bothering to look up at her.
“Do you remember when I mentioned Lady Tollock?” he suddenly asked.
Penelope’s head shot up, red hair falling over her face. “Of course.”
“Her annual ball at Benedict House is in a few days.” George held up a formal invitation for her to see. “I already sent word of our attendance.”
“Well, shouldn’t we discuss it first?”
George’s dark eyes widened as he shrugged. “What is there to discuss?”
“I told you before,” Penelope replied. “I do not do well around people, especially the Ton.”
“You’ve been saying that,” he mused, leaning back in his seat, “but you haven’t explained.”
Looking away, Penelope caught a glimpse of a few birds flying overhead out the window. At that exact moment, she prayed to switch places with them. “I didn’t think it needed an explanation.”
George didn’t move, his stare unwavering as he waited for her to keep talking.
“I am not what the Ton expects out of a woman,” she finally said. “It’s as simple as that. They don’t look at me with the adoration they gave my sister.”
“The Ton can look at you however they want.” George laughed at that, turning his attention back to his papers. “As long as you let them know I’m a distinguished and married aristocratic gentleman, I couldn’t care less what they say behind our backs.”
Penelope sunk into her seat. Nerves rarely affected her as much as they did when she was in her teens. She might feel it, but she never succumbed to the emotions. There, at the table with breakfast between them, Penelope felt her heart race below her chest, and she began to panic. Obviously, George wouldn’t understand her relationship—or lack of it—with the Ton. She clenched her hands into determined fists below the table.
“I need you to care.”
George’s head popped up. “I beg your pardon?”
“For my brother, Owen. I need you to care what they say.”
“That wasn’t a part of our deal.”
Penelope grimaced, crossing her arms. “Neither was attending balls and pretending to be head over heels for you.”
George watched her, the end of his quill brushing against his chin. “I don’t think you have room to bargain, darling.”
That pet name again! Penelope pulled her eyes away, swallowing the blush that threatened to spread across her face and ignoring the anger that bubbled beneath the surface. “If you make me do this, I will make a fool out of myself.”
George narrowed his eyes. His lips parted, but he quickly shut them, shaking his head as though he changed his mind. Opening his books back up, George pulled his attention away from her. “I don’t know what you’re squabbling about,” he muttered. “This is why I married you.”
Penelope bristled.
“If you want your cottage, you need to prove to the Ton that you love me and that I am a perfectly respectable Duke.”
“Splendid,” she mumbled sarcastically. “The easiest job in all of England.”
George snapped a book shut, staring at her irritably. The corner of his lip perked into a humorless smirk. “Perhaps I waited too long and married the wrong sister.”
Her head shot over to him, mouth gaping open. The words stung more than she ever expected them to. While most of the pack still slumbered in Penelope’s bedroom, the mastiff Antony rested beside her feet, lifting his head at the change of atmosphere.
“Perhaps you did,” Penelope snapped, pushing her chair back to leave the table. “Tell me, your Grace, does our schedule remain unchanged?”
George looked up at her, surprised at her suddenly leaving the table. “Yes,” he replied. “You have two months.”
Penelope nodded and gave him a short curtsy. “Then I suppose I need to make sure I have a dress to wear.” She turned, crossing the room to the door.
“What happened to using our names when it’s just the two of us?”
Pausing at the door, Penelope barely looked over her shoulder at him. “Maybe if you had married Alicia,” she hissed, “She’d be more willing to do so.”
And on that note, she left the dining room, Antony close to her heels.
The townhouse was quiet as Penelope slowly walked through the halls back to her bedroom. Now, more than ever, she craved the outside, the freedom that seemed to quietly drift further and further away from her grasp.
“Your Grace,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Howard, called out from behind her.
Penelope paused, turning. “Good morning, Mrs. Howard.”
The housekeeper glanced warily at Antony before she continued. “Your lady’s maid has arrived from Yeats Manor. Her name is Clarissa, and she is quite new to the position. While she was prepared to assist you at the Manor, the townhouse and your… guests might be a bit overwhelming.” Mrs. Howard gave a stretched, placid smile. “If you could offer her some patience, your Grace, I’m sure it would be very much appreciated.”
“Of course,” Penelope replied.
Giving Mrs. Howard a bow, Penelope quickly excused herself, walking faster towards her bedroom. She could only imagine the poor girl, overwhelmed and terrified at the pack of large beasts that slumbered in the bedroom. Antony trotted alongside her as if he were fully aware of the situation as well.
Coming around to the room, a shred of light peered out from the slightly opened door. Low howls and quiet barks echoed out into the hallway, shadows dancing across the door. Penelope entered and threw a hand over her mouth.
A young girl, possibly no older than eighteen, jumped on Penelope’s bed. The maid’s bonnet the girl wore had been flung off and was sticking out of Brutus’s mouth. Blonde ringlets framed the girl’s rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes cloudy with tears. All the dogs ran amok in the room, knocking over books and shelves. Penelope tried to do a quick head count and realized that not all the animals were in the room. The girl was far away from the beasts, but she yelped and screeched from the bed, squeezing her eyes shut.
Penelope let out a sharp whistle. One by one, the dogs fell into line in front of her, most of them panting with excitement. Walking into the room, Penelope pulled the bonnet out of Brutus’s mouth and approached the shaking girl.
“You must be Clarissa,” she quietly said. “My name is Penelope.”
“Oh, y-your Grace!” The girl tried to curtsey, staggered, and scrambled to regain her balance on the bouncy bed. “You must be so ashamed. I am so sorry!”
“Ashamed?” Penelope repeated with a laugh. “What’s there to be ashamed of?”
“T-The animals, I could not work aroundthem.”
“Oh, dear,” Penelope muttered, reaching to grab the girl’s shaking hands. “Few ever can. Are you frightened?”
“I-I was,” she replied in a whisper. “Are they angry?”
“No, no, they are rarely angry. But they are excitable, especially when it looks like there is someone new to play with.”
Clarissa smiled slightly at that. “Very well.”
With Penelope’s hand tight around her, she led the maid off the bed and introduced her to the dogs. Above them, perched on a bookshelf, was the tabby cat Butternut, who watched with narrowed green eyes. Clarissa, who was positively petite in comparison to Penelope, gave each animal a reserved scratch behind the ear, growing more comfortable with them all by the end.
“I never met a group of pleasant dogs before,” Clarissa mused as she rubbed the foxhound Priory’s belly. “I suppose this is rather uncouth of me. I apologize, your Grace.”
“Please, call me Penelope.” Squatting down on the floor beside the dogs, Penelope avoided looking the lady’s maid in the eye. “Don’t think me peculiar, but I’ve never had a lady’s maid and I’m truthfully not sure what to do with one.”
Clarissa looked up at her. “Really?”
“I’ve never considered myself a lady, much less in need of a maid.”
Clarissa glanced around dejectedly. “Shall I leave then?”
“Heavens, no,” Penelope quickly said, giving the girl a wide grin. “Who else would look after the dogs?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly -”
“Are you paid well?”
Clarissa gaped. “Y-your Grace, is that… proper?”
“I’ll pay you more, just for your company.”
The maid stared at her with wide eyes. “That feels too kind.”
Penelope sighed. “I only wish for a friend, Clarissa. Do whatever duties you please. Report back to stuck-up Mrs. Howard that the animals refuse to behave. All I ask is -”
“Friendship,” Clarissa finished with a small smile. “I’ve never made so many friends in one day.” She glanced around the room at the settled dogs, two of them resting their heads in the girl’s small lap. “I feel quite accomplished.”
“You are!”
“Mrs. Howard did mention a need for a dress,” Clarissa said. “I pulled one out of your wardrobe.”
Penelope climbed to her feet, crossing the room to inspect the gown that hung off the side of the wardrobe’s door. It was a green gown, much like the color of leaves when the sun hits it just right. All of it was dreadfully simple and light, with a pair of white gloves to match. Penelope dragged her fingers across the material, nerves again filling her chest. While it was a beautiful thing, the idea of wearing it around the Ton was frightening.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured.
“Are you sure? You look sad.”
“Most balls end up quite glum for me, Clarissa.” Penelope left the gown hanging outside the wardrobe and went to the door. “Look after the pack, won’t you?”
Before the girl could reply, Penelope slipped out of the bedroom. Despite trying to use Clarissa’s presence as a distraction, both Titus and Brutus slipped out the crack in the door behind Penelope, their large feet smacking loudly against the floor.
Going down the stairs, Penelope caught a glimpse of George crossing the foyer, a few envelopes stuck beneath his arm.
“Your Grace!”
George paused, looking up at her. His face twisted almost immediately with tension and agitation. “Well, well,” he drawled, “Mother Nature herself blesses me with her presence.”
Penelope slowed as she descended the stairs, no longer paying attention to where the dogs went. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh,” he snapped, sounding sarcastic and angry, “do you mean to say that your spies didn’t report back to you?”
Penelope laughed exasperatedly. “You aren’t making any sense!”
George stormed forward, effectively closing the space between them. Just a few steps below her, they almost were at eye level with each other, with George only slightly looking up at her.
“Were you missing a creature?”
“This is their home as much as it is mine,” Penelope replied, trying to keep her tone even. “Look, I came to tell you that I found a dress suitable for -”
“Never mind that,” George snapped, thrusting a finger over his shoulder. “The damned mastiff ripped my papers in two!”
“He’s quite the fan of playing.”
“I wasn’t playing!” George rubbed his hands along his face, obviously irritated. “He just grabbed it out of my hand! How irresponsible can one woman be?”
Penelope pressed her lips together firmly, unable to hold herself back any longer. “You need to calm down! Haven’t you stopped to consider this an uneasy time for the animals, too? This is a new home, with new people they aren’t used to!”
“Then perhaps you should’ve been a stronger owner and left them at home!”
“What kind of a caretaker would I be, then? Abandoning the animals I pulled from off the streets?”
George shook his head, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “Don’t forget: you tricked me.”
“ What?”
“You never once fully informed me about your…baggage, and look at me now!” He held his work up in the air. “How on earth can I be expected to concentrate if your beasts won’t give me the time of day?”
Penelope rolled her eyes at him. “Is it really that hard to open a stud farm? That you feel the need to blame your inadequacies on a handful of dogs?”
“You -” George growled, a red heat of anger rushing to his face. “This is why I left London. This!”
“Oh, really.” The corner of Penelope’s mouth curled in a sarcastic smirk. “You left England a decade ago because of me and my dogs?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I meant marriage. London’s women! Every last one of you!”
Penelope’s hands clenched into fists. “Then why don’t you do all of us London women a favor and go back to the colonies?”
With a bright red face, George’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened, readying himself to deliver another onslaught.
Before he could say another word, Titus squeezed himself through Penelope’s legs, pushing till she made room for him. Leaping forward, the wolfhound jumped in the air, front paws landing directly on George’s chest. With a resounding yell, George toppled backward, his back slamming against the floor with a mighty thud. Titus remained on top of him, a long line of drool dripping between his teeth.
“ George! ” Penelope shouted, gathering her skirts to fly down the rest of the stairs. She struggled with Titus, trying to pull him off of the Duke. “What on earth’s gotten into you?”
Turning to George, she watched him with wide and fearful eyes. “Are you hurt?”
He grunted, lips pressed firmly together. “Of course not,” he replied, though his voice sounded strained. “Get the damned thing off me.”
Penelope wrangled Titus till he stepped around George, taking a seat at the end of the stairs as if he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place.
“Your Grace,” Penelope breathed beside him. “I don’t know what’s gotten over him. Can’t I fetch you something to help?”
George stared at her intensely. Still lying on his back, Penelope crouched beside him, her reddish hair falling down her shoulders like a curtain. His eyes went wide, and his lips parted slightly.
“A-Are you well?” she asked again, searching his face.
George suddenly blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. “You can control your beasts!” he shouted before climbing to his feet. “Or I’ll banish them all to the stables.”
“But -”
“ No!” he exclaimed, pulling a flinch out of Penelope. “My word is final.”
After taking one more look at her and Titus, George straightened his coat and grabbed the papers he carried, bundling them up in his hands before storming off across the foyer. Penelope remained there as Titus slowly stepped towards her, head hung low. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s shaggy neck, pulling till he could rest beside her.
“Do not take his words to heart,” she whispered in the hound’s ear. A clever smile spread across her face. “If he thinks I am Mother Nature, I shall show him what nature can do.”