Penelope by Anya Wylde Page B

but my mother requested it. I don’t want
to worry her any further.”
    “Can’t I eat in
my room?” she asked.
    “No”
    “Well I don’t
want any breakfast.”
    “You were
willing to cook your pet a moment ago.”
    “Fine, I don’t
want you to carry me. There, I said it.”
    “Did I not tell
you that I do as I please? And right now I choose to please my
mother.”
    “You wanted me
to stay away. I am following your command, your grace.”
    “I am pleased
that my direction registered in your thick skull. My next command,
as you call it, is to never argue with me.”
    She scowled and
then stilled.
    He was walking
towards her with a strange smile on his face.
    “I shouldn’t
have kissed you.”
    Stunned, she
stared at him for a moment.
    Penelope’s
breath came faster and her eyes darted to his lips. “You
didn’t.”
    “Almost”
    He had almost
kissed her? She wondered how she had missed that bit of interesting
information … and he had wanted to kiss her?
    She frowned and
said, “Is that an apology?”
    He scooped her
up and walked towards the door.
    “Is that an
apology?” she asked again, gripping his shirt tightly.
    “I never
apologise.”
    She stared at
him in confusion. Why had he mentioned the kiss if he hadn’t wanted
to apologise? Perhaps, she mused, the words had slipped out? He did
seem to be regretting telling her now … Her thoughts stopped short
and became entirely muddled when she noticed the warmth of his
hands seeping through her clothes and heating her skin. She was in
his arms, she realised, once again. Her chest constricted and for
some odd reason she started tingling all over.
    In an attempt
to distract herself from this disturbing new development, she said,
“You could tell your mother I tried to … about last night I mean.
She will send me packing.”
    “Your face is
beet red. Don’t tell me you have never been this close to a man
before. I won’t believe it, just like I know you are shamming that
sprain in your foot. As for telling my mother, she may send you
packing or insist I marry you. If she does insist on marriage, then
extricating myself from you will be slightly more difficult. And
don’t you dare tell her either, or I will personally make sure that
your life is hell.”
    He paused, and
then slightly loosened his hold on her, threatening to drop
her.
    Her arms shot
out and grabbed his neck. She held on for dear life, her nose
buried in his chest.
    “I won’t say a
word,” she quickly promised.
    “We will see,”
he said, his arms once more holding her securely as he resumed
walking.
    “I do want to
leave. I really do, and you are right, I can’t face the season. I
am not prepared.”
    He chuckled,
“So you want to go home, do you? My grandfather will make sure of
that after last night’s debacle, whether you truly want to or
not.”
    “Do you have to
doubt my every word?” Penelope asked irritably.
    “Are you going
to stand there holding her and arguing or are you going to put her
down?” Lady Radclyff interrupted, watching the couple with a gleam
in her eye.
    The duke looked
up, startled to see he was standing in the breakfast room.
    ***
    Two cups of tea
and a slice of toasted bread later, Penelope had stopped feeling
like a giant unwanted giraffe.
    The dowager
broke the silence, “Now that we are fortified, Charles, I want you
to stay and discuss this … this predicament. An hour of your time
is not too much to ask for, is it?”
    The duke smiled
and said, “Of course not, Mother. I can spare an hour or two, but I
truly think it’s a lost cause. Grandfather will never agree to have
her in the house.”
    “Then find a
solution. That is what you do, isn’t it? Solve other people’s
problems. Then apply your mind to this little pickle as well,” Lady
Radclyff said.
    “Don’t be
silly, Anne. It’s not the same thing. As a duke, I do have certain
responsibilities, but not of this kind.”
    “As a duke you
have to sort out personal as well as