Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Day two of the weekend started slowly.
Following breakfast, the guests were free to spend the morning anyway that they wished, told to be back by midday for a musical soiree in the garden that was not to be missed.
Many spent the morning with loved ones and family members, walking the estate and sitting in the garden, while a few even went back to bed to sleep off the wine they’d drunk too much of the previous evening.
Many more decided to go for a walk to the local village, which was just one mile down the road. Penelope was one of those who opted for this little adventure, and she was beyond pleased when Barbara asked if she could join.
“How long has it been since you’ve visited the village?” she asked as they left the manor together. Evelina and Alexandra were with them too, but they were walking ahead, giggling together about the state of their husbands who had both returned to bed.
“A while…” Barbara held Penelope’s hand as they walked, and Penelope could feel how tense she was already.
“I think it is longer than that,” Penelope said with a caring smile, giving Barbara’s hand a squeeze. “But never fear, there is nothing to cause worry. And as soon as you wish to return, all you need do is let me know.”
Barbara thanked her for this and together the four women started the short walk. Among them were more of the guests also, spread out, all going at different paces. This meant that it was largely just Penelope and Barbara, holding hands the whole while, able to talk without fear of being overheard.
For that reason, Barbara was only too eager to tell Penelope what had happened to her this morning.
“Can you believe it?” Barbara said, the surprise evident in her tone and on her face, as she explained what Dorian had told her. Or rather, how accepting he had been of her refusal to be courted by Nicholas Wood.
“Are you certain that was what he said?”
“It was,” Barbara said, nodding eagerly. “I was certain he would insist – that he would be angry with me. But he almost seemed relieved, as silly as that is. I mean, this is all he has wanted for ages. Is that not strange.”
“Yes,” Penelope agreed. “Very strange.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, enough time so that Penelope could consider what she had just heard and what it meant. If it means anything at all? Maybe Dorian just does not like young Nicholas very much? Maybe he wants someone better? Or maybe…
Penelope spent the night with the decision she had made, and what she’d told Dorian when he’d finally confronted her. It had been hard to do, made harder when he tried to kiss her, but she was certain it was the only choice to make.
Ultimately, Dorian did not want this marriage, and he never had.
As far as she was aware, he never wished to marry and his mind wasn’t going to be changed on that front.
He was not one who believed in love or happily ever afters, and she wasn’t going to waste her time with a man who she suspected would end in hurting her.
Now… had something changed in her husband?
As far as she knew, he wanted nothing more than for his sister to marry, and he did not seem the type to care who to.
So long as he was a lord from a good family, someone to look after her and guide her into the next stage of her life.
That his sister did not care for Nicholas should not have mattered.
So why did he accept Barbara’s refusal of Nichola’s advances? Unless he believed that love was what should be sought. Unless he was starting to consider that marriage was more than a mere contractual obligation. And if so, did he think the same about their own marriage?
It was all very confusing—annoying, also because it threw into peril all that Penelope had believed. All that she had forced herself to believe.
Still, it was a relatively peaceful morning for Penelope, Barbara, and her sisters as they wandered the village and visited the various stores and stalls.
Barbara was like a child being let out of the house for the first time, gushing and gasping, pulling Penelope this way and that, eager to see everything as if it was her first time. Which it might well be.
They might have stayed there all day too; Barbara sure seemed as if she wanted to do so. No longer scared and unsure, she was growing into herself with each passing minute.
But as the sun rose in the sky, Penelope reminded everyone that they needed to make their way back. She was sure to tell the other guests who she found in the village also, pointing them toward the estate because the next event of the weekend was set to begin.
“Can we come back another time?” Barbara asked as they started home.
“Of course we can,” Penelope assured her.
“After this weekend,” Barbara pressed her. “Once everyone leaves. That way, there will be no rush.”
Penelope’s insides squirmed with guilt. She had not told Barbara that she was set to return home the moment the weekend ended. Although now, with what she had learned of the duke, she wondered if she would.
There was nothing back home for her, a life she had lived for three years and knew would not change. But if there was a chance that Dorian’s mind was changing…
“Perhaps,” she offered Barbara. “But we still have a way to go until then.” She got the distinct feeling too that this weekend, only on its second day, was not done surprising her.
The party was located back in the garden, this time centered around a pianist who had come all the way from London.
The piano was set in the garden’s center on a small stage that workers had spent the morning constructing, while a viewing area made of dozens of seats was set before it like a small theatre.
There was also an awning stretching over the piano and the audience for shade, while waiters walked between the seats as they offered the guests food and drink.
Penelope stood at the back of the seating area, not willing to sit down because she was too filled with nervous energy.
She wanted to stay out of Dorian’s eyesight too, as he had taken a seat at the very front with Barbara; they were holding hands and Barbara appeared enraptured by the pianist. The rest of the guests were just as captivated, sitting in silence – broken by impressed whispers – as they took in the performance with obvious enjoyment.
“He certainly is something…” Slinking in beside Penelope was Albina; she wore on her face a knowing smirk.
“He is,” Penelope said. “Dorian was recommended him by a friend.”
“Oh…” Albina could not have looked more delighted. “I was not speaking of the pianist, Penelope.”
Penelope turned and glared a warning at her cousin, hoping that would be enough to silence her because she did not much feel like having this conversation.
Then she turned back and focused on the pianist as if he was the most transcendent musician she had ever heard.
In truth, she hadn’t heard so much as a note he’d played all day.
Her attention was on Dorian and there it was set to remain.
She watched him closely, eyes narrowed, frustration mounting because she did not want to be so fixated on him. Had she not told him last night that she was done? Had she not told herself as much too? Was she not prepared to leave here and never come back, certain it was the only decision to make?
Decisions made that had felt so right last night, that I had been so utterly certain of that I even managed to convince myself that I was happy. And now… now I don’t know what to think.
“I take it you don’t wish to speak of it then,” Albina said. She stood beside Penelope as if to watch the pianist at work.
“I do not.”
Albina chuckled softly. “You might want to stop your staring. It’s no wonder I don’t believe you.”
Penelope scowled at her. “What do you care, anyway? I thought you hated Dorian. The way you were speaking to him the other day…”
Albina shrugged. “I thought I was right to. Remember, at that point in time, as far as I knew, he was the husband who had abandoned you. One who I just assumed was still the center of your tempestuous anger.”
“I never hated him…”
“You were right to do so,” Albina continued. “Which is why I came in here ready to defend your honor. However, little did I realize how much had changed.” She turned her head slightly and raised a knowing eyebrow. “How much you had changed, Penelope.”
She rolled her eyes and looked ahead. “Nothing has changed, Albina. What you saw was…” She clicked her tongue. “A moment of weakness. I was convinced that I needed to defend my husband’s honor, unaware that the man has none worth defending.”
“Is that right?” Albina laughed.
“It is,” she said with a firm nod. “Dorian and I, we cannot truly come together. We were never supposed to. And it really is that simple.”
“It almost never is. Penelope…” Albina turned fully, her eyes brimming with a sense of worry. “That day that we arrived, when you put me in my place, what I saw…” She smiled. “It was not a wife defending her husband’s honor, as you claim. Rather, it was a woman defending the man who she lo –”
“I do not love him.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you don’t. But it looked as if you wanted to. As if you thought you might. And His Grace, I saw the way he was looking at you that day also.”
Penelope felt her heart skip a beat. “And… and how was he looking at me?”
“I think you know.”
Penelope grimaced as she turned and found Dorian once more. He was smiling as he watched the pianist, blissfully unaware it seemed of what he was doing to her. Or maybe he just didn’t care?
“It matters not,” Penelope sighed, her heart sinking. “We have talked about it, and we have both realized that whatever our marriage is, it is not worth pursuing.”
“Oh, well then, if you have talked about it,” Albina scoffed. “Do you want my advice?”
“Not really, but I think you are going to give it, nonetheless.”
“If you truly were over him, you would not be back here with a look on your face that might suggest you have just learned your entire family was lost at sea. You would not care as you so clearly do. But you are here, you do care, and that is enough for me to know that whatever you think might be in store for you and His Grace is not the answer that you want.”
“What difference does it make what I want?” Penelope said, feeling her chin wobble with sadness. “Dorian –”
“Is a man,” she cut over him. “Stubborn and stupid and he wouldn’t know happiness if it slapped him across the face.
If you think there is a chance, Penelope, you need to make him see it.
The last thing you want is to go home wondering…
” She raised her eyebrow again. “Committed to a life alone because you were too scared to take a chance.”
Penelope winced as if Albina’s words were a knife; they were just as cutting.
She had taken a chance. She had put herself out there. She had gone to Dorian and tried to confess how she felt, and he had turned her away. That was the very reason all of this happened in the first place!
And yet…
Penelope could not help but think back to last evening, when he had tried to explain himself to her. He had done a terrible job because clearly even he did not know what he wanted. Which meant too that he didn’t know what he did not want.
She thought too of the kiss, the second time when he had tried to pull her into him. Was that not proof that he wanted her?
She remembered what Barbara told her about Nicholas Wood, the suggestion that his perception of marriage was changing, not to mention how he viewed his sister.
And her skin prickled when she closed her eyes and felt their kiss. She could still taste him on her lips. She could still feel his hand around her waist. Enough that two days later and her legs trembled at the memory.
Is it worth trying one more time? Better that I try and fail than spend the rest of my life not knowing. Surely, that is reason enough…
“I know that look,” Albina said with a sly smile.
“What look?” Penelope blushed furiously and looked away.
“Go to him.” She took her hand and squeezed it. “Tell me what you feel. Or barring that…” She flashed her eyes. “Show him.”
“Show him?” Penelope leaned back. “What do you…” Her eyes widened when she understood the meaning. “Albina!”
“Just with a kiss,” Albina said with a wicked grin. “Why? What did you think I meant?” She winked coyly and turned back to watch the pianist.
Penelope did the same, even if she heard not a single note the young musician was playing. As before, her thoughts and attention were focused entirely on Dorian, only this time there was a sense of hope simmering beneath.
She was going to do it. One more chance. A final attempt to find the truth of his feelings for her… and her own for him, for that matter. It might lead to nothing, but it couldn’t make things any worse. And that was something to hold onto.
And just like that, the gaping emptiness that sat inside of Penelope for months felt… not quite so empty as it once had.