Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Penelope tore through the woodland once more, hoping she was wrong, hoping Nicholas had listened to her.
Hoping that he hadn’t disobeyed her and returned to feed that hound. The evening wasn’t as dark as it had been the other night, and the adrenaline overrode her fear, but Penelope was still gasping for breath by the time she made it onto the Duke’s estate.
Where is he?
Her eyes went to the bushes, wondering if Nicholas had snuck through into the cottage grounds again, but a playful bark had her focus flicking to the other side of the garden.
Below a large oak tree, Nicholas was chasing Hector around, holding a stick just above the dog’s head.
“Nicholas!” Penelope hissed, moving closer, eyes wearily watching the castle in front of her. No lights were on this time, and she prayed that the Duke was away for the evening, if only so she could guide Nicholas away undetected. “Nicholas!”
“Mama!” Nicholas called out. “Come over here—look!”
Penelope told herself she only went deeper into the garden in order to take her son’s hand to lead him away. As soon as she approached them, Hector bounded around her feet, running laps around her, fast enough to ruffle her skirts.
“Look! Hector’s learned to do tricks! He sits on command now, watch!”
Although Nicholas’s face was bright with joy, Penelope placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him away from Hector for a moment.
“Mama?” Nicholas’ small voice asked, his brows furrowing. “Why do you look upset? Do you not want to see the trick—”
“I am very upset, Nicholas,” she said, her anger clipping her voice even as she tried to keep it gentler. “I specifically told you never to return. Both His Grace and I did, and you have disobeyed us both.”
Nicholas’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes wide and pleading. “I know, and I am sorry, but I could not help myself! Hector’s being so good! See, he was even excited to see you!”
Penelope glanced down at Hector, finding him with his tongue lolled out, panting happily. He went to nose at her leg, but she discreetly moved away with a wince.
“I understand, but you ran away, and I was worried again. Not to mention that the Duke could come outside at any moment. Do you recall how angry he was several nights ago?”
With a pout, Nicholas nodded. His hands tucked behind his back sheepishly. “I am sorry, Mama. It is just that the house can be so lonely and quiet at times. Hector is my friend, and I do not have any friends.”
Penelope’s first instinct was to say, You have me, but she could only try to fight back tears at the thought of her son disobeying orders to get away from the house. From the quietness she didn’t know how to fix.
Her heart broke a little as she stroked his head. “I just want to keep you safe, but not secluded. If you leave, please tell me where you are going, and if I say no, that means you listen, yes?”
Still pouting sadly, Nicholas nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
“Say goodbye to Hector, for we must go back now.”
Slowly, Nicholas turned back to Hector, dropping to his knees to give him a pat and a hug. But before he could even utter a goodbye, footsteps came from the direction of the cottage clearing.
Penelope froze. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
The tension in her body tightened, her protective instincts kicking in the moment she saw the Duke of Brigrock once again.
Malcolm leaned against the stone wall of his estate, his eyes following the boy—Nicholas, he begrudgingly recalled from the other night— and Hector.
His hound had a knack for finding trouble, but when Nicholas was around, Hector seemed far more at ease.
Something about the child brought a gentleness out of the animal, a loyalty that Malcolm appreciated.
Although he hadn’t quite known Nicholas had been trespassing for weeks, he had caught him through the window several times, sneaking through the shadows, whistling quietly for Malcolm’s dog.
He hadn’t been a bother, really, just an annoyance—until Lady Romwich had shown up, causing a fuss. Malcolm had meant his warnings to Nicholas, but he hadn’t meant any great threat.
His gaze lingered on the boy for a moment longer before he looked up to see Lady Romwich approaching, her steps brisk and hurried, her face set in that guarded mask he had already seen once.
She was a mother, a lioness protecting her cub, and it was easy to see how much Nicholas meant to her in the way her eyes softened when she called for him.
But something in her eyes now, as she glanced at him, made Malcolm feel like an intruder on his own lands
Hector was still running in circles around the boy, clearly enjoying the game, and it irritated Malcolm more than it should have. He had grown used to Hector’s rambunctious nature, but the dog was acting like a pup again, disobedient, hard to control.
“Hector,” Malcolm called, his voice low but firm. “Come here, now.”
The dog hesitated, looking back at him, but as if sensing the authority in his tone, Hector stopped mid-circle, panting, and slowly made his way to Malcolm’s side. He sat obediently, his tail wagging as he waited for a command.
Malcolm’s eyes flicked to the boy, who stood there confidently, hands on his hips, looking up at him with bright curiosity. The child was clearly proud of the tricks he had taught the dog.
His heart clenched slightly. He’d once hoped for a child like this. A child he could raise differently, give a life filled with love.
But those dreams had been shattered long ago, and now, seeing the way Nicholas interacted with Hector, it stirred something deep inside him.
The boy reminded him of what had been lost, what he had never truly had a chance to build.
“You should be careful around dogs,” Malcolm said gruffly. “They do not always listen, especially when they are this eager.”
Nicholas didn’t seem to take offense. He puffed out his chest, an air of pride surrounding him. “Hector listens to me. I’ve been teaching him to jump higher and higher to get the stick, and he’s been really good!”
Malcolm tilted his head, interested despite himself. “Teaching him?”
Lady Romwich stood a little to the side, her stance tense, her arms crossed over her chest. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a clear signal that she didn’t trust him. She had every right to; he imagined she trusted him as little as he did her.
Malcolm met her eyes, his head cocked. “I thought I made myself clear the other night, Lady Romwich, that you were not welcome back here. Your son, as innocent as he is, had the same orders from both of us. You ought to teach him to listen better.”
“And I believe you should watch your dog,” she snapped back. “He could hurt Nicholas.”
Malcolm lifted a brow, offended. “Hector barely hunts, despite his breed. He would not hurt the boy.”
The way she looked at him, suspicious, distant, reminded him of the way people had looked at him when he first returned to society.
People saw his scars before they saw his face. They saw his reputation before they saw the man beneath the hard exterior.
“I think it’s time we left, Nicholas,” Penelope said, her voice colder now, but still gentle, and it was clear she knew she had lost their debate.
Nicholas pouted. “But Mama…”
“Now,” Penelope insisted, stepping forward. Her body language was unmistakable; she was drawing a line, a clear boundary between them and him.
Malcolm couldn’t help but be irritated.
He had done nothing but follow Hector’s lead, yet here she was, acting as if he were the problem.
He stared at her, unwilling to back down. “I have already told you, your son was fine with Hector. He wasn’t in any danger.”
Penelope took another step forward, her posture protective as she instinctively moved to stand in front of Nicholas, shielding him as if he were a fragile thing.
“You don’t know that…” Her voice was tight with frustration.
“I know that Hector listens when I speak to him,” Malcolm said, his tone tightening despite himself. “And Nicholas is not in any type of danger.”
The tension crackled between them, sharp as a whip. Neither would back down.
Her anger was fierce, protective, but her defensiveness set off something in him that made him dig his heels in, just a little. He had spent far too long keeping his distance from others, afraid to get close, afraid of what happened when he did.
But there was something in the way Penelope stood there, her face flushed with defiance, her shoulders set, something that made Malcolm want to challenge her, just to see what would happen if he did.
I cannot possibly be attracted to her.
At least not in the way one might think.
It was something else, something more elemental.
The need to be closer to her—the urge to order her off his lands again, while wondering if she would return on the heels of her son another night…
It made no sense to him. Malcolm never desired company.
Solitude had been his comfort for years, and this lady, with her unkempt hair and steel gaze, irritated him.
So why could he not look away?
Before he could speak again, Hector, as if on cue, darted forward, his tail wagging as he bounded toward Nicholas. The child squealed in delight, bending down to pet the dog, his earlier grumpiness forgotten in an instant.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened. He could see it now. The boy was not afraid. In fact, he seemed far more at ease with Hector than he had been with Malcom, or even with his mother.
“See?” Nicholas said, turning to Lady Romwich with a wide grin. “He’s fine, Mama!”
Penelope’s heart hammered in her chest as she stepped forward, instinctively moving closer to Nicholas.
Her body tightened with fierce protectiveness. Her eyes flicked from the Duke to Hector, who had bounded away from his master to nuzzle at Nicholas’s side.
Her fingers twitched, ready to grab Nicholas at the first sign of trouble.
She didn’t trust the Duke.