“Men do love damsels in distress. We simply need to look lovely while fighting mortal peril.”
Penelope stuck her head under the bed in search of her slippers. After a moment, her muffled voice hesitantly asked, “Are you sure … about Lord Poyning, Anne?”
“What do you mean?” Anne asked sharply.
“Do you love him?” she asked carefully, emerging with the slippers in her hand.
“Of course. How can you even ask me that?”
“I suppose … If you truly love him then … Well….”
“I do love him with all my heart.”
Penelope searched Anne’s face, and then satisfied with what she saw in her eyes she nodded. “I have a plan, but this time we will need to practice to make sure it all goes smoothly.”
“I knew I could depend on you,” Anne said, clapping her hands.
“How long do we have before Lord Poyning and Lord Rivers call on us?”
“A few hours. They will be here by noon.”
“You are certain?”
“Yes, I was right behind Lord Martin when I heard Lord Poyning mention it to Lord Rivers.”
“You mean that you were hiding behind the porcine Lord Martin and eavesdropping.”
Anne did not deny it, but she did have the grace to blush.
Penelope eyed her for a moment in mock anger, and then grinned and said, “Well done.”
Anne grinned back.
“Get dressed and meet me in the apple orchard in ten minutes. We need to get to work,” Penelope ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Anne said, saluting smartly.
***
“Now, this is what I suggest. Instead of going to Hyde Park, we will stay right here on the Blackthorne Estate. We will have a picnic in the lovely oriental garden, and then I will mention how I would love to have fresh, crisp apples ….”
“Apples are not in season,” Anne interrupted.
Penelope stared up at the fruitless trees in the orchard. Her heart sank.
“Curly lettuce is in season,” Anne said.
“Lettuce is not romantic.”
“Artichokes?”
“Anne, I need a tree bearing fruit!”
“Oranges? We have a few Spanish varieties growing in the orangery.”
“Spanish oranges … that will do. After the picnic, we will head to orangery. You will climb a ladder and Lord Poyning will stand at the bottom to catch the fruit. I will take Lord Rivers away from the scene. Once I am gone, you will slip and fall into Lord Poyning’s arms. You will be in shock and pretend to swoon and then blink your eyes open and moan delicately.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Anne said, her eyes glazed.
“Yes, well, now we need to practice falling.”
“Why?”
Penelope took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Anne, you have to look enchanting while falling. Only so much of your ankle must show. And you have to fall from the right spot. If he doesn’t catch you, then you may break your neck. I don’t want you dead.”
“Why won’t he catch me?” Anne asked.
“He might be distracted by a green spotted butterfly. I don’t know, anything may happen. I am not leaving anything to chance.”
“You are awfully moody today.”
“I have not slept,” Penelope growled.
“No, I agree. We must practice. After the Thames disaster, you had planned to lock Lord Poyning and I in the barn … so romantic … Anyhow, as soon as you did lock us in, that fool of a Lord Rivers promptly let us out. Your plans are dreadfully holey.”
Penelope took no notice of her friend’s pathos. She set a ladder against a tree and climbed up to the third rung.
“Let me try this first to get a feel of it,” she called down to Anne.
She let her foot slip, and she tumbled to the ground rather more forcibly than was pleasant.
“You,” she said, through gritted teeth, “were meant to catch me.”
“You didn’t tell me,” Anne replied.
Penelope heaved herself off the ground, ignoring Anne’s outstretched hand.
“You will do the climbing and falling from now on,” Penelope snapped.
Anne nodded meekly.
***
The duke paused outside the orangery, his eye caught by the curious spectacle. Anne was climbing a ladder and then she was falling. He was about to run to help her when Penelope caught his sister neatly.
He heaved a sigh of relief and turned to leave when Penelope’s voice stopped him.
“Anne, your arms were waving and legs flying. We cannot have your petticoats on display. Do not forget your face. Keep it calm and serene.”
Penelope was by now on the fourth rung, and then she was in the air falling towards the ground.
Anne caught her and said, “You looked like a baby sparrow being tossed out of the nest by her mother for the first time. You were flapping.”
“Yes, well that is why I suggested that we practice,” Penelope muttered.
The duke watched the two climb and fall, over and over again. He scratched his head, and then decided to keep an eye on them for the rest of the day. They were up to something and he had a feeling it was not something virtuous.
Chapter 29
Penelope smiled at Lord Rivers.
Everything had gone according to plan. Anne was currently climbing a ladder with Lord Poyning in attendance.
Penelope was strolling far away from the scene of the crime dragging a reluctant Lord Rivers along. She halted in her tracks when she came upon a second ladder. Her mouth pursed in thought. She had, after all, practiced falling just as much as Anne.
“Perhaps we should pluck some oranges as well, Lord Rivers,” she said, trying not to bat her lashes. Fluttering women alarmed the man.
“Do we have to?” Lord Rivers asked feebly.
“Please, you can hold the ladder while I climb up,” Penelope coaxed.
“Yes, of course,” he replied reluctantly.
Penelope smoothed her skirts, ran a hand through her hair, and then delicately stepped onto the first rung. Her face was a mask of serenity.
It was on the fourth step that a vision of the duke touching her lips arrested her. Her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach clenched.
“Not again,” she whispered in distress. Lately her brain had got into a nasty habit of conjuring up thoughts of the duke at the most inopportune times. It was like having some sort of a spasm that constricted her heart and wrenched her away from the world around her. The whole thing was dashed inconvenient, especially at times like this.
She braced herself as the familiar bittersweet feeling of part fright and part pleasure washed over her. She recalled for the thousandth time the chaste, brief kiss he had given her that day in the carriage, the warmth of his hands when they had danced, and the elation that his laugh always ignited within her.
She waited for the spell to pass. It always did unless ….
She swayed, her heart thundering. She knew he was close by. Somehow she always knew when he was watching her.
The ladder jerked under her and her eyes snapped open. The orangery, tree and ladder came into focus. She glanced down and stifled a squeal. She had climbed higher than she had intended.
Once again the ladder wobbled alarmingly, and Penelope floundered on the fourth step, her sweaty hands clenched tightly in an effort to stay put. But the third enthusiastic nudge did her in and her foot slipped, her skirts flew, her arms flapped, and she toppled to the ground.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in Lord Rivers’ arms. The duke was kneeling next to him anxiously peering into her face. The duke, she moaned inwardly, had a knack of appearing next to her at the most inconvenient times.
She calmed her galloping heart and muttered, embarrassed, “I am alright.”
“Lady Bathsheba butted the ladder. You fell before I could steady it,” Lord Rivers informed her.
The duke was silent. He grabbed her hand and yanked her away from Lo
rd Rivers.
“Meet me in my study,” the duke said, in a controlled voice.
“Anne?” Penelope whispered, looking around.
“Bring her along,” he ordered angrily, turning on his heels and striding off.
Lord Rivers cleared his throat.
“The duke looks upset. I think we should depart, Miss Fairweather. It is getting late.”
Penelope nodded absently. She watched Anne appear through the trees looking happier than she felt. The plan had worked for her it seemed.
After Lord Poyning and Lord Rivers departed, Anne asked cheerfully, “What do you think Charles wants?”
Penelope did not answer. She had a sinking feeling that the duke knew what they had been up to.
“I have much to tell you, Penny. Stop dragging your feet. Charles has warmed up to you. He is not going to scold. Maybe he has finally set a date for his wedding…”
***
“Sit down,” the duke said, setting aside the ledger.
Anne dimmed slightly at the look on her brother’s face, “What is it? Grandfather?”
“He is alive and as well as can be. I want to ask you about the little incident in the orangery. Whose idea was it?”
Anne paled. “What idea?”
“The one that involved you falling off an orange tree and into the arms of an unsuspecting man.”
“I slipped.” Anne squirmed in her seat.
“I watched you both practice this morning. Now, whose idea was it?”
“Mine,” both Penelope and Anne muttered together.
“Miss Fairweather, how could you involve Anne in such schemes? I thought I had warned you.”
“It was my idea,” Anne cried indignantly.
“You are lying.”
“I am not.”
“Miss Fairweather?” the duke asked, turning towards her.
“It was my idea,” Penelope replied, her ears turning red.
“But I asked her to plan it,” Anne scowled, crossing her arms.
The duke again turned to Penelope and raised a brow.
Penelope nodded.
“Anne, how could you follow some madcap scheme thought up by this … imbecile? This … muttonheaded, niffynaffy, goose-witted mad woman. This loony rural—”
“Charles! I will not have you insult Penelope in front of me. She has been kind enough to help me while you—”
“Help you how? By making you look desperate?”
“I am desperate, I had no choice,” she shouted. “You scare all the men away. I want to marry. It is your duty to help me and not thwart me every step of the way.”
“I allowed Lord Beetle to approach you. In fact, I let him propose to you.”
“I don’t want to be Lady Beetle. Who would want to marry a man called Beetle?”
“Oh, and Poyning is better?”
“He is handsome and we will make beautiful babies ….”
“Anne!” the duke roared scandalised. His own sister talking of making babies…
“The other man you allowed within a foot of me was Mr Appleby,” she continued heatedly. “He took me riding, and did you know I was asleep within five minutes of him opening his mouth? You only let the most boring, morbid men near me. Lord Berry, another suitor that you were kind enough to approve of, had the audacity to tell me that my eyes were big and beautiful just like his precious Nuggins. Nuggins is his toad.”
“Anne, let’s talk about this,” he said soothingly.
“No, you listen to me. I have been out for three whole years and I am still unwed. I don’t want to die a spinster. I don’t want to live with you and that horrid Lydia for the rest of my life. You have always dictated every step in my life ….”
Penelope stood up. This was between brother and sister. She had no right to be here.
“Sit!” both Anne and the duke roared.
Penelope sat.
Anne slammed a fist on the table. “Where was I? Oh yes, Lydia. Did you have a fight with her? I saw her cut you last night. Is that why you are taking out your frustration on me?”
“Lydia and I are not your concern,” he warned.
“Your attachments are not my concern? You can marry whom you like? You don’t care that I cannot stand the sight of her, yet you think you have the right to tell me whom to marry?”
“I don’t need your permission to marry anyone, whereas you, my dear sister, need mine.”
Anne pushed the chair back, her face livid. “I have sat out most dances because of you. You are the reason that no one dares to approach me. I don’t want baubles. I don’t want you to fill my sight with flowers. I want a husband and babies.”
“Really, you shouldn’t mention wanting babies in front of me. It is not seemly …”
Anne walked out before he finished his sentence.
The duke looked at Penelope.
Two large tears rolled down her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” he asked frowning.
“You fought with Anne,” she said, shedding more tears.
He came around to her side, “True, but neither Anne or I am sobbing. Then why in the world are you?”
“Because you fought and you lub each other,” she blubbered.
He hastily produced a large snowy handkerchief and shoved it in her hand.
She blew her nose. Loudly.
He backed away when she tried to hand the handkerchief back, “You keep it. Is that the only reason why you are crying?”
“And Madame said that I am in …” Penelope closed her mouth and leapt off her chair.
The duke’s arm shot out, blocking her escape. “You are what?”
“You are a little possessive of Anne. You shouldn’t dictate her every move,” she said calmly, ignoring his question.
“You know, I have never seen anyone stop crying so fast. Your tears have all dried up. It is remarkable.”
He took her chin and tilted it up.
“Do you know something else?” he asked softly.
She mutely shook her head.
“You, Miss Fairweather, are more than a little strange.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
“We are friends are we not, Penelope?”
“Friends don’t call each other names. You called me an imbecile, muttonhead—”
“I am sorry,” the duke cut in.
Penelope’s mouth popped open, “That’s the second time you have apologised to me, your grace.”
“It is hard the first time. Thereafter, it rolls off the tongue.”
“I see. Well, I think I should go talk to Anne. She is distraught ….”
“I know her. She is best left alone in that mood. Speak to her in the evening. Besides, I have something further to say to you.”
“I am not going to apologise for helping Anne ….”
He held his hand up, silencing her.
“I am not asking you to apologise. I think it is mostly my fault. I have spoilt the girl rotten. I was forced to become her brother, friend, confidant and father at the age of seventeen, and perhaps I didn’t know how. I was too young and the habit stuck. I had to protect her from Sir Henry’s strict views on how a girl should be brought up. In short, he wanted me to ignore her. I did the opposite. I became possessive, showered her with affection … Now it has all come back to bite me in my … err … what I mean to say is that perhaps you are right. I should stop ordering her around.”
Penelope was impressed. The duke seemed to be taking Anne’s outburst and their little adventure fairly well. He dispelled her glowing thoughts the very next moment.
“Is Anne is love with that shabbaroon?”
“Who?”
“Poyning?”
Penelope turned a gimlet eye on him, “Ah, so all this sweet talk and pretending to be remorseful was to get this answer out of me?”
“Is she truly in love with him or is it a passing fancy?” he coaxed, stepping closer to her.
“I am not answering that,” she said, suddenly fi
nding it difficult to breathe.
“Hmm. Will you tell me if you are in love with Lord Rivers?”
When she did not reply, he bent his head and peered into her face trying to catch her eye. “You fell off the tree into his arms. He was your intended target, was he not, Penelope? Are you in love with him?”
She shied away from his searching gaze.
“I don’t know what love is.”
“Does he make your heart beat when he comes close to you?”
Penelope’s heart hammered.
“Yes,” she lied.
He caught the back of her head and forced her to look at him.
“Do you tremble at his touch?”
She nodded mutely, gripping her hands on her skirts to stop them from shaking.
“Then you, country girl, are in love,” the duke whispered, bending down to kiss her.
This time his kiss was not chaste, nor was it fleeting. It was demanding, desperate, passionate.
Her toes curled and she stopped breathing.
‘When you are in love, Miss Pea, your toes will curl’ Mary’s voice whispered in her mind. She squished the voice away and concentrated on the duke’s mouth moving over her lips expertly, sensually.
Sharp, sweet sensation raced through her limbs.
In the distance church bells pealed, and slowly the soft sounds of a violin filtered through the fog in her brain. Soon a piano joined in and then a harp. A couple of flutes later, an entire orchestra was playing in Penelope’s head.
When the angels started singing, Penelope could deny it no longer. Her mother was prancing about with a cupid sending her a clear message straight from heaven.
She was truly, madly and deeply in love with the duke …
… and the duke was to marry Lady Lydia.
She broke the kiss and with it her dreams shattered.
She did not look at him, afraid he would see the emotion shimmering in her eyes. Instead, she did the only thing she could.
She fled.
Chapter 30
Penelope inspected the slice of fruit cake. It was a little dry but edible. She picked out a raisin and popped it into her mouth.
Penelope was starving. She had missed dinner and breakfast, all because she couldn’t face him … not after that kiss … her first glorious kiss. Her eyes glazed over and she absently took a bite and chewed. Her eyes closed in pleasure. Whether it was from the sweet cake dissolving in her mouth or the kiss, she wasn’t sure.
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