Chapter 16 #2
Malcolm was direct with the footwork and physical with the corrections. Nicholas made the same mistake on the parry three times in a row, and Malcolm offered three different explanations without a hint of impatience. On the fourth pass, Nicholas seemed to finally resonate with the lesson.
“That, yes,” Malcolm said. “See? It takes patience, and you are letting yourself listen and learn. You are having patience. Now, try again.”
Nicholas did, and once more, he had success.
Malcolm picked up the second foil. “Now try it against something that moves.”
Penelope watched her son face the Duke of Brigrock with a look of terrified joy.
Malcolm met every lunge at exactly the right height, offering enough resistance to challenge Nicholas without crushing his spirit.
He was calibrating himself in real-time, displaying empathy and consideration she hadn’t expected from a man so guarded.
She unfolded her arms, finding herself relaxing a little more.
When the lesson ended, Nicholas was damp with sweat and talking so fast he was tripping over his words.
“Can we try the bow again on Thursday? And the fencing? I would like to practice the parry once more. I think I almost have it.”
“Indeed,” Malcolm confirmed. “You are making an excellent student, Nicholas.”
Nicholas beamed and turned to Penelope, who was gathering her shawl. She looked at Malcolm, her gaze lingering a second too long.
“Thank you,” she said.
The reluctance was there, but she had seen the sincerity in Malcolm’s teachings. She let herself believe, once more, that he truly was more than what the ton claimed him to be.
He was not an animal.
He was a man.
He was Malcolm.
“Has he improved?”
Violet’s question came right as she hit the Pall Mall ball with a decisive stroke, watching it curve toward the far hoop. The afternoon was warm and heavy, but Penelope had dressed lightly, her gown thin enough that the sun did not affect her so much.
“Remarkably,” Penelope said, squinting at her own ball, which was currently wedged near a rosebush. “His seat is entirely different on a horse, and not to mention his archery is rather good, too.”
“I meant you.” Violet looked at her with a look of predatory innocence. “Has His Grace improved your archery? Have you received any private instruction?”
“Nothing has changed, Violet.” Penelope moved toward her ball. “We agreed the kiss was a mistake. We are proceeding as neighbors and nothing more.”
“You agreed,” Violet corrected. “Did you not mention earlier that His Grace said it was a mistake to keep you from using it as an excuse to stop the lessons?”
“You were not there.”
“I did not need to be. You described the electricity when he helped you onto the horse in such detail that I felt it in my own toes.” Violet retrieved her ball. “And you kissed him back, Penelope. Do not think I have forgotten that part of the narrative.”
Penelope turned her mallet in a slow circle. “I do not intend to repeat it.”
Violet stopped playing. She looked at Penelope with genuine softness. “Penelope, the two of us have read too many books to believe nothing will happen between you two.”
“And, as I stated, I am only doing this for Nicholas. He seems happier these days.”
“So, are you saying you feel nothing for the Duke?”
Penelope looked at the long shadows on the lawn. She didn’t answer, but she was blushing. She could feel the heat on her cheeks.
“Well, he is handsome.” She heard herself say before she could stop herself.
“Oh my, you finally agree with me.” Violet’s eyes flashed with intrigue. “You are intrigued, Penelope.”
Penelope flushed, her shoulders loosening as she relaxed. Her friend was a confidante, and she did not know what she would do without her.
Just then, Amelia came through the door.
“Lord Hayworth’s ball,” Amelia announced, joining them. “We ought to discuss arrangements for it is within the month.”
Penelope looked at the ground. “I cannot go,” she said regretfully. “My London townhouse belongs to the earldom. It is Charles’ until Nicholas comes of age. I have nowhere to stay.”
“My father’s townhouse,” Violet countered instantly. “He is here, in the country, anyway. Nicholas can have the blue room, and you and Amelia can take the east wing. And I know you, Penelope, so do not dare talk about being a burden. You are welcome anywhere that I am involved.”
Penelope opened her mouth, but the warmth in Violet’s face silenced her. “All right,” she whispered.
“Good. I shall notify Papa today.”
After the game, Penelope found Nicholas practicing his parry with a particularly sturdy mallet that was not being used.
“Nicholas,” she called out. Her son perked up at his name, coming closer. “We are going to London for a short time.”
He looked up, his eyes wide. “But… but what about Hector? He will remain here, will he not?”
“He will,” she sighed, seeing Nicholas’ shoulders falling. “Hector lives here, darling. His Grace’s dog cannot come with us.”
“Right.” He processed this with a small frown. “But we shall come back before the lessons stop? He said I could hit the center of the target by next month.”
“We will come back,” Penelope swore.
We have to come back, she thought to herself.
He returned to his mallet, satisfied.
A moment later, Mr. Ashton appeared with a letter on a silver tray. Penelope recognized the seal of her brother-in-law before she even picked it up. She broke it open, her stomach turning.
“Your correspondence?” Violet prompted, appearing at her elbow. “Ah, that is from Charles.” Her eyes wandered to the signing signature.
Penelope folded the paper tight. “Indeed. He is traveling to Scotland on business. He says he will call on his return to see Nicholas.” She paused, her jaw tightening. “He was not asking for a convenient time. He was stating an intent.”
Violet’s face soured. “I never liked him. He has the eyes of a man who counts the silver while one is talking to him.”
“Nicholas likes him even less. And with the Duke’s lessons, if Charles finds out, he shall use it against me, and call it improper.
I imagine he will use it as leverage for the guardianship.
” She looked toward the southern hedge, toward Brigrock.
“Only he could find a way to make a gift look like a scandal.”
She looked at her son, still fighting his invisible duel.
“At least we’ll be in London when he returns,” Violet assured her, though it felt like a hollow victory. “We will not be here for him to call on.”
She said it like a plan.
But Penelope knew, in the cold corners of her mind, it was only a stay of execution.