“But?” Penelope prompted.
“I know her. She is in one of her moods and I am afraid she may do something silly. Keep an eye on her will you? You will be attending all the social gatherings together, and she can hardly cut you in public.”
Penelope pressed the dowager’s hand. “I will keep an eye on her. I promise.”
The dowager stood up, “While you are at it, do something about Lady Lydia as well. I can’t stand the woman.”
Penelope gasped.
“My son is a nitwit and you are good at thinking up schemes, or so I heard. Get her out of his life,” the dowager said, pulling her up.
They started strolling back towards the house.
Penelope understandably knocked into three prickly bushes on the way.
***
“Mother, will Miss Fairweather speak to me tonight at Kitty May’s ball?” Anne asked. Her fingers gripped the carriage seat as the wheels dipped in a pothole.
“She is sitting right next to you. Why don’t you ask her yourself?” the duke grumbled.
Anne ignored him and continued to eye her mother questioningly.
The dowager sighed, “Miss Fairweather, will you talk to Anne during the ball?”
“Please ask Lady Anne to raise the right side of her buttock. She is sitting on my shawl,” Penelope said, ignoring the question.
“Anne, can you give Miss Fairweather back her shawl?” the dowager asked, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple.
“Please thank Lady Anne—” Penelope started to say when the duke slammed the carriage seat halting her speech.
“Enough, I am close to losing my temper, and I am warning you that if the two of you do not start behaving like ladies, then this carriage is going back to Blackthorne. Be civil or you will not be attending a single social gathering in future.”
“We will behave,” Anne said quickly.
Penelope ignored the duke, her hands busy smoothening her shawl.
“Penelope?” the duke warned.
Penelope gulped. It was that tone … the aristocratic tone that he used on special occasions, the sort of tone that set everyone around him bowing and scraping. No one dared to ignore that tone.
She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Your grace, I am being civil. I have not proceeded to pull Lady Anne’s hair … yet.” Her voice was dripping sugar.
Anne and the dowager gasped softly.
The duke held Penelope’s eyes, and she bravely focused on a tiny freckle above his right eyebrow.
A hint of a smile crossed his face and her eyes widened.
“I suggest you stay away from each other tonight. No conversation, and if I catch you, Miss Fairweather …”
Penelope’s gaze slipped. His deep, husky voice had not threatened this time. Instead, it had been filled with a wicked promise that trickled deep down into her belly making her shiver.
Her stomach was still fluttering when she entered Kitty May’s ball, which was already in full swing. Everything glittered and sparkled, and the hostess was shining brighter than all the lamps in the room. Kitty wore a multi-coloured gown that hurt the eye. Penelope squinted through the garish colours, her mouth quirking in amusement. She automatically turned towards Anne to share the vision … but Anne was already moving away from her. She sent Penelope a forlorn look before disappearing into the crowd.
A rush of loneliness swamped Penelope. She had always had Anne by her side at every social gathering. Truth be told, she had forgiven Anne. She wanted to speak to her and yet she did not know how or what to say. She acknowledged to herself that she was embarrassed. Embarrassed that Anne had guessed what she felt for the duke. She did not want to face the pity in Anne’s eyes. The duke was an engaged man and far above her station. She was not a fool and completely aware how hopeless the entire situation was.
The dowager moved away to greet an acquaintance and Penelope stood alone amidst hundreds of people, her heart heavy.
“You should talk to her,” the duke said gently.
“I thought you did not want us to talk,” Penelope replied, surprised that he had come to stand by her side.
“I didn’t mean it. I would like my sister to be friends with my…” he paused and then continued, “I want Anne to be friends with you.”
“What were you going to say… my what?” It was out before she could stop herself.
“Friend. We are friends are we not, Penelope?”
“You don’t treat me like a friend.”
“Hmm … I suppose I don’t treat you like a sister either. You are hinting at the kiss … Well, you will have to put up with it. In spite of your utter lack of skills, I am tempted to … Shall we be friends who kiss?”
“Kissing friends? No, I think not. I would rather we were acquaintances. I see Lady Lydia across the room. There she is standing next to Anne wearing a beautiful red dress.”
“Do you really want me to keep my distance?” the duke asked.
“Don’t you want to dance with your fiancée?”
“No, I don’t want to dance with Lydia. I would rather dance with you.”
“I don’t understand you. Are you laughing at me or … oh, I don’t care. Don’t answer. I am going to speak to Anne, and before you assume that I am running away, then let me clarify that I am not. Not this time. I am simply concerned for my reputation.”
“Your reputation is safe with me.”
“I beg to differ, your grace,” Penelope snapped, walking away.
***
Penelope fought through the crowd, peeking over heads and shoulders trying to find Anne. Soon she found herself stuck between two large bodies and her nose squashed into someone’s ample bosom. Breathing became difficult and her thoughts naturally turned morbid … A lot of people died these days, she mused, while trying to extricate herself. And the physicians said it was the water that did it … The poor drank only gin and beer, but they seemed to die faster than anything.
The bosom moved and she emerged puffing on the other side. Perhaps lard made one live longer. The physicians had it all wrong. It was sugar and dripping fat that allowed the rich to live longer. No wonder so many aristocrats were fleshy. Her thoughts were substantiated by the sight of a large earl being carried across the room on a gold plated platform. He looked old. She added laziness to the list of things needed for longevity.
She sighed as she stepped into an open space and finally spotted Anne disappearing onto the balcony.
Unfortunately, the balcony happened to be on the opposite side of the room. She also spotted Lady Lydia looking radiant in crimson silk making her way towards the powder room. Her shoulders slumped. Why, she moaned silently, did this sort of thing keep happening to her?
Finding no other way out, she squared her shoulders and plunged into the lethal arena once again.
Squirming through the crowd, she chose another topic to muse over. This time the subject was even more morbid, namely Lady Lydia. The duke was a goose for wanting to marry the likes of her. Lady Lydia would no doubt pick the duke’s flesh, and once she had ingested that, she would advance to chewing his bones. The poor man would have a short life. Lady Lydia was not a tigress. A tigress is a magnificent being. No, Lady Lydia was a mole. She appeared calm, beautiful and refined during the day, and at night she turned into a mole, scrabbling through dirt in underground tunnels. She fed on gossip, her ears stuck underneath the floor boards of various households. She drank the hopes of debutantes, nibbled on the hearts of earls and viscounts, but her main course would be the duke. For dessert she would dine on Penelope.
A little ashamed of her vicious imagination, Penelope blushed. She pushed open the balcony door and the rush of night air cooled her heated cheeks.
She spotted Anne at once. She was leaning against the railing while a man was talking to her in low urgent tones. Penelope neared the couple trying to keep her footsteps silent. Anne spotted her before she could eavesdrop.
The couple sprang apart and the lamp lit
the man’s face. It was Lord Poyning.
“Miss Fairweather,” Lord Poyning said, looking not a bit phased.
Anne was artless. She blushed.
“Lord Poyning, it is a lovely evening,” Penelope said, searching the two faces in front of her.
“Made lovelier by your presence,” Lord Poyning replied promptly.
Penelope could tell his heart was not in the compliment. She spied a white rose that Anne was attempting to hide in her skirts. It seemed Lord Poyning’s favourite girl for the night was Anne. She silently apologised to her friend for interrupting her romantic moment, but she knew it would have to be disrupted further.
“I wanted to speak to Anne privately, Lord Poyning.”
“I thought you were angry with her,” Lord Poyning said slyly.
Penelope frowned. Anne had confided in him about that? When had they become so close, she wondered?
A hint of irritation crossed Anne’s face. “Lord Poyning, I am awfully thirsty.”
Lord Poyning was taken aback by her tone, but he took the hint and left to fetch Anne a drink.
An uncomfortable silence descended on the balcony after his departure.
“Poyning is a funny sort of name. Do you really want to be Lady Poyning?” Penelope said, trying to break the tension.
“It sounds a bit like annoying,” Anne said, her lips quirking.
“Is he annoying?”
“I thought you were not talking to me,” Anne said, ignoring the question. She turned to look at Penelope and found her kneeling on the floor, her hands clasped together in appeal.
“Forgive me,” Penelope proclaimed dramatically.
“Penny, you can’t do that here … not at Kitty May’s ball. Someone will see you. Stand up.”
“Not until you promise to forgive and forget.”
“I should be apologising. Penny, please behave … eeek, let go of my foot!”
“You apologised so many times, and I took too long to forgive. No, that’s not right. I forgave you that very day, but I was mortified that you thought that I was … I mean, your brother …”
“I understand. I guessed as much. But nothing has changed. You should have told me how you felt. I would not have thought less of you. I don’t know how you can be in love with my boring, arrogant … Never mind. If you do not want to talk about it, then we won’t. Now, for the love of all that is holy, get up. I can see someone coming.”
Penelope stood up and patted the dust off her skirts.
“Penny, how could you behave like a total idiot?” Anne giggled.
“I have no pride when it comes to winning back people I love.”
Anne smiled, “I love you too, Penny.”
“Then tell me all about Lord Poyning and your little romance.”
“You love my brother more than you love me,” and that was the only reply Anne was willing to give on the subject.
Chapter 32
“The Baronet of Hampshire has decided to marry the milkmaid,” Anne announced, scanning the latest newspaper.
“How do you know? It does not spell out the name,” the dowager asked.
“Who else has sixteen Newfoundland dogs, three Persian cats and thirty six horses?” Anne sniffed.
“You are confident that the baronet has that many animals?”
“When have I been wrong? My sources are excellent,” Anne replied.
“Your source is Becky, your lady’s maid,” the dowager said blandly.
“This time it is not,” Anne said triumphantly.
Penelope stopped admiring the duke’s handsome head. She swivelled to inspect Anne, who had sounded a little too cheerful for this time of the morning. She said thoughtfully, “Anne, pass me the butter and the jam. And the teapot, thank you … Oh, the salt, pepper, and the toast as well.”
Penelope knew something was wrong. Anne should have been annoyed by her demands. After all, the teapot had been lying next to Penelope, and Anne had to get up from her chair and come around to her side to pour Penelope a cup.
“How is your knee, Perkins?” Penelope asked the butler absently. Her eyes were focused on Anne’s flushed face.
“The knee is having a good day, Miss. Thank you for the ointment,” Perkins mumbled, glancing at the guests. Madame and Kitty May had joined them for a late breakfast. They were to go shopping with the dowager after the meal.
“How is your wife?” Penelope continued, unaware that Anne and the dowager were shooting her quelling looks.
“Living,” Perkins said, backing away.
“Oh, tell Lilly downstairs to come up and see me. I have a wonderful solution for her troubles with her motherin-law …”
Perkins started sweating. The glass in his hand shook.
“Penelope,” Anne whispered loudly.
“Lilly is?” Kitty May enquired.
“The scullery—” Penelope started to say when the dowager interrupted her and launched into an animated discussion of the statues recently procured by the British museum.
Madame spoke softly in Penelope’s ear, “I am happy to say that I have not completely changed you. But, my dear, one does not acknowledge the presence of servants, especially when there are guests around.”
“I forgot,” Penelope exclaimed, her eyes automatically leaping to the duke. He was smiling at her. Confused, she poked a boiled egg.
“Would you girls like to join us? We are going to Bond Street. A lovely new Parisian style shop has opened up. They have darling ribbons,” Kitty May said.
For Kitty May everything was darling.
“I have a bit of a headache,” Anne demurred.
Since when had the fox turned into a docile lamb, Penelope wondered, eyeing Anne with increasing suspicion. Anne saying no to darling ribbons and a new shop … Perhaps she did have a headache. No, the girl was looking too pink and bright for a headache.
“Would you like me to call Dr Johnson?” the duke asked, concern clear in his tone.
Penelope rolled her eyes. The duke was truly dim to Anne’s wiles at times.
“No, I think I will rest this morning,” Anne said, her hand rising to her forehead dramatically.
She was overdoing it and no one was catching on, Penelope thought irritably.
“I am calling the doctor,” the duke said, standing up and leaving his breakfast midway.
“As you wish,” Anne said faintly.
Penelope sat fuming. The duke worked all day. How dare Anne force him to leave the breakfast table without finishing his meal.
It was noon by the time the dowager departed with Kitty May.
Madame had excused her from lessons and Penelope raced up to Anne’s room.
“Anne,” Penelope said, striding into the room.
Anne leaped up, her foot pushing something under the bed. Her hair had escaped the pins, her face was flushed, and her expression guilty. But Penelope’s attention was caught at the sight of the dirt on Anne’s skirt. It was remarkable, for Anne disliked dirt as much as she abhorred rabbits. She was bitten by one at a fair as a child … by a rabbit, not the dirt.
“What are you up to? How dare you lie to the duke and worry him so?”
Anne stood staring at Penelope meekly.
“Anne?”
“Nothing, I was cleaning?”
“And I am a teapot,” Penelope retorted.
“If you insist,” Anne said shrugging.
“Annie! Out with it.”
“Nothing, truly.”
“I don’t believe you. I know you are afraid that my loyalties lie with your brother, but you are wrong. You are holding my feelings against me.”
“If he asked, would you not tell him?”
“I …It would depend,” Penelope said, honestly.
“Then I can’t tell you.”
“If I promise not to tell him?”
“He will trick you into admitting it. You can’t hide your feelings. He will guess,” Anne said, crossing her arms.
“Are you doing something awful?
” Penelope asked in a small voice.
“No, it is wonderful,” Anne said happily.
Penelope was now truly alarmed.
“Please? A teeny tiny hint? A hint as big as an ant?”
“No.”
“A hint as big as that spot on your forehead?”
“You are not supposed to mention that.”
“Fine, I won’t ask you, but I will look,” Penelope said, diving across the floor and sticking her head under the bed.
Anne caught Penelope’s collar and yanked her back. They wrestled on the floor for a few minutes until Penelope gave up and played dead.
She had a good idea of what Anne was up to. If she was right, then all hell would break loose with the duke leading the demons army.
Penelope pretended that she had not seen a thing. She pleaded with Anne a little more and then called a truce. She decided to leave her alone for the moment, but she would keep an eye on her for the rest of the day.
***
Penelope needed a quiet place to think. She decided to go to the library for a little while. Thereafter, she would have to attach herself to Anne for the rest of the day and possibly all night.
She walked into the library and found the duke reading near the window.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you,” Penelope said, backing away.
“Whether you disturbed me or not is debatable.”
Penelope scowled. She was not in a mood to decipher the duke’s cryptic remarks.
“Now that you are here I would like to ask you a question,” the duke continued, closing the book and setting it aside.
Penelope nodded for him to go ahead.
“What is my rotten sister up to?”
Penelope’s mouth dropped open. She should have known that nothing could escape his notice.
“I am not sure,” she replied.
“But you have an idea,” he said shrewdly.
“Yes.”
“Then share it with me.”
“No.”
“Penelope …”
“Your threats don’t work on me, your grace.”
“I have noticed,” he said, coming up to stand in front of her.
Penelope took a few steps back.
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