Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Penelope lifted her skirts as she walked up the stairs into her home, grateful to have returned to her place of solace after what felt like a particularly long day.
Although she loved her friends dearly, it was somewhat taxing to see them fail to understand the gravity of Jane’s situation. She did not blame Nora at all for being so trusting of her brother, but Penelope knew no good would come out of his fraternizing with Jane.
Sweet, lovely Jane, who only desired to find a love as wonderful as the ones she often read in her books. Jane was too shy to appeal to any gentleman the way their peers did at social events, so she likely felt lucky that Cecil approached her first.
With a deep sigh, Penelope greeted the butler, Mr. Wyndell, noticing that he seemed rather distracted as he ushered a maid down the hall towards a drawing room.
“Do we have a guest?” she questioned quietly as he stopped the maid to study the tray of tea she was carrying before nodding and letting her into the room.
“Yes,” Mr. Wyndell sighed, looking as though he had suddenly found himself out of his depth. “A rather important one at that. Lord Bellcourt is already attending to him, but the visit was rather sudden and we did not have any time to prepare for his arrival.”
Upon hearing that her brother was also in the drawing room, Penelope thought there would not be a better moment to greet him before she retired for the rest of the afternoon.
Although she was slightly reluctant to also present herself before his guest, the polite thing to do would be to face them – whoever they were – as soon as possible.
With a deep breath, Penelope knocked at the door, turning the knob as her brother’s familiar voice called for her to enter. She pushed the door open – only to stop her in her tracks at the sight of the very last person she wished to see.
“You,” she spat, seething.
Her brother’s guest grinned lazily; his eyes sparkling as he set down his glass of brandy.
“Well, if it isn’t my biggest supporter! I was wondering when you would show up. I was a few seconds away from admitting to my dear friend how peaceful it was without your usually stern shrieking.” He stated, his tone dripping innocence.
Penelope stepped further into the room and slammed the door behind her, pointing a finger at him.
“I am surprised you can comprehend what peace is supposed to feel like – given that your very existence sucks it right out of any room.” She snapped, feeling her earlier irritation return.
“I am hurt by your accusations, Lady Penelope. Many have found me to be an absolute delight. And yet you are the only one who cannot seem to appreciate how wonderful I am.” He shrugged.
“I'd sooner choke on a piece of carrot during dinner and expire slowly than do such a ridiculous thing.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ah-ah,” the visitor shook his head, his expression turning stern for a brief moment. “Surely you do not wish to expire before you are able to formally acknowledge my new title. Is that your way of trying to escape being respectful to me?”
“I do not need to employ such tactics –”
“Do it then.”
Penelope’s mouth snapped shut, and she glared at him.
“Not even if you –”
“Even if I begged? Are you absolutely certain I still won’t be able to thaw that ice cold resolve of yours? I think you regard yourself too highly, Lady Penelope.” He sighed, his lips pulling slightly into a roguishly handsome smirk.
Lionel Waverly, Marquess of Bellcourt, glanced between them, looking equally amused and exasperated.
“Really, you two... Will there ever be a day when you get along like civilized members of society?” Lionel asked, refilling his tea cup.
“I did not start this! She is the one who came in here and disrespected me within moments of gazing upon my face.” The guest eyed Penelope warily. “Perhaps you should advice Lady Penelope to do the needful and show me the proper regard I deserve.”
Lionel shifted his attention to her, his gaze soft and imploring as he urged,
“Penelope, you are being rather disrespectful to our guest right now. All jests aside, he is our guest and we are courteous to our guests.”
Penelope clenched her hands tightly by her side, hatred and anger burning her from within as she took a single step closer to them. The cause of her ire stared up at her, his grin making her wish she could pull off her shoe and throw it at his ridiculous face.
It took a lot of emotion she did not know she possessed to bend her knees and curtsey slightly, greeting through gritted teeth.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
Cecil, Duke of Westerdale, looked positively pleased, as though he knew she had to claw at her insides to muster enough resolution to actually greet him.
“Good afternoon, Lady Penelope. I trust you are having a fine day? Because I certainly am.” Cecil smirked.
“I was, before my home was infiltrated by a deviant.”
“Penelope!” Lionel scolded, aghast.
She ignored her brother and continued, “I will feel much better when you leave, though.”
Cecil’s expression morphed into pure joy as he asked, “You would like that, would you not? However, I am afraid that is not possible.”
Lionel cleared his throat, and when Penelope shifted her gaze to him, he told her,
“The esteemed duke’s estate seems to have acquired some damage under the management of its previous owner. And while the damages are being repaired, His Grace needs a place to stay in the mean time and I graciously offered –”
“No, brother,” Penelope nearly groaned. “Why would you think if doing such a thing? What were you thinking?”
Lionel’s amusement returned, and he sighed in mock exhaustion.
“What was I supposed to do while my close friend was rendered momentarily homeless? How can I call myself his friend if I do not help him in this time of need?” he asked.
Penelope whirled around to face the culprit who was encroaching on her territory, doing her best not to wag a finger in his face as she said,
“I am sure the damage is not as bad as he has made it sound. He simply wishes to leech off us and impose on us for laughs.”
“Oh, I can assure you, that place is quite uninhabitable. No one has lived there for a long time and it is practically in shambles. Much work is needed before I can hope to spend a night there without fearing for my precious life,” Cecil stated sagely, downing the remaining contents of his glass.
“What about Nora and her husband? She said you came to see them recently but she did not mention anything of your ‘temporary’ displacement. I am certain that if she knew, she would insist that you stay with them!” Penelope pointed out.
Cecil’s face took on an expression of utter disgust, and he shook his head immediately.
“Need I remind you, my sister and brother-in-law and newly weds? The last place I would want to be is anywhere around those two. I'd rather live on the streets of London. At least I can rest easy then,” he told her with a haunted glint in his eye, shivering slightly.
“See? If the streets are good an option, I suggest you take it, Your Grace.” Penelope folded her arms.
“And miss the opportunity to see you scowl at me every single day? I would rather not deny myself such joy! How could I?” he tutted, resting a hand over his chest with a sad look on his face.
“Oh, but it is all right to give me a reason to scowl every day?”
“That is up to you, fair maiden. I am satisfied as long as I am blessed with a chance to gaze upon your face.”
“I am starting to consider giving up my sight completely if it would mean I would be spared the misfortune for looking at yours any more than I have already been forced to endure already.”
Cecil paused, mild surprise overtaking his features for a moment. “You are being particularly cruel to me today. One might believe you’ve missed our spats.”
Penelope wished she could smother him with one of the cushions her mother had embroidered.
Now and again, Lionel would ask her why she detested Cecil so much, and every time she would state that there was nothing likable about him.
Although he was a close friend of her brother, and Penelope was a dear friend of Cecil’s sister, she could never bring herself to feel pleasant in any way towards him.
He always appeared charming in the public eye, his flirtatious nature easily drawing in the attention and affection of young women of the ton, but Penelope was not one to be fooled.
She had witnessed how cruel he could be, all too aware that underneath the smile he gave out easily was a tongue that could cut through a heart harshly.
And she was aware of his promiscuous nature, because she had heard an alarming number of tales about the number of ladies he could seduce in a single night. It was frustrating that he had to be so close to her when she wanted nothing to do with him.
“Perhaps you should be concerned if that is the case, as that is not the sort of feelings you should evoke in a lady,” Lionel pointed out, gently patting Cecil’s shoulder.
Penelope glanced between them, somewhat irked by the easy surrender Cecil provided almost immediately.
“Why not? I thought he loved nothing more than being a pest,” she huffed, folding her arms.
“Well,” Lionel grinned, looking as though the news he was about to share could not have made him happier. “The duke has decided to set himself on a quest to find a wife.”
“Oh,” Penelope schooled her expression to be as plain as possible. “Oh dear. That poor woman – whoever she may be.”
“You may jest now, but out there is a lady, eager to spend the rest of her life with me. Just as I am eager to dedicate the rest of my days to her.” Cecil pledged, holding a hand up solemnly.
Although his expression still looked playful, his voice was almost… grave. Penelope could help but say, her voice light and teasing.
“You almost sound as though you are seeking a real commitment.”
For the first time that afternoon, Cecil’s eyes dimmed, and his face grew serious.