She gave him a strained smile, picked up her skirts and walked determinedly to the front door, leaving Gates to arrange food for the coach driver and the horses who had brought her there.
Outside the parlour, she took a deep breath, and then pushed the door open.
Her mother and father instantly turned to see who had entered, and the colour drained from her mother’s face.
"Penelope?" she whispered, as though not truly trusting her daughter’s appearance before her.
In spite of the misery which filled her heart, Penelope’s smile was genuine. She often disagreed with her parents, but she loved them dearly, and seeing them after several days apart was a joy.
Her mother crossed the room in three paces and enveloped her in a hug, while her father stood and looked on.
"We have most of the staff out searching for you," Mama said, not letting go of her arm. "Where have you been? We have been so worried…"
"Was it highwaymen?" her father asked. "I’ve heard tales…"
Penelope shook her head. "Perhaps we could call for some tea? And I will tell you everything…"
"Of course," Mama said, reaching for the bell pull. "Are you hurt? Sick? Injured?"
"I am quite well," Penelope said, and it was true – other than the broken heart she was sporting.
"Well where the blazes have you been for five days, without sending word?" her father asked, his face reddening. "Really, Penelope. I know we’ve allowed you some freedom, but this is–"
"Gregory," her mother said in a warning tone. "Let us hear Penelope out, please."
Penelope took a seat and began from the beginning. "I took my boat out, and then the storm hit…"
Mama frowned. "That storm was terrible. You were at sea? I knew we should never have allowed you that little boat, so unsafe…"
"I was foolish to go out with the clouds drawing in," she admitted. "But I never expected… I lost control, and I believe I was knocked over by a wave, because the next thing I knew, I woke up on a beach with no idea where I was."
Her mother gasped, but did not interrupt.
"I was found…I later discovered…in Scotland. By the Duke of Dunloch."
Her mother and father looked at each other. "Do we know a Duke of Dunloch?" Mama asked Papa.
"Not personally…but I seem to remember an old duke of that name, went to Eton at a similar time to me, inherited fairly young…"
"That might have been his father," Penelope offered, for her Duke of Dunloch – the current Duke of Dunloch – was certainly not a man as old as her father.
"I…could not remember much when he found me, and so he made sure I was well and…found me a bed in a local inn." She did not wish for her parents to think ill of the Duke, even if nothing had occurred during the days she had spent with him, and so she altered the truth slightly.
"Well, that was kind of him," Mama said.
"Indeed. We spent a little time together, and…he has asked me to marry him."
This time, her mother’s gasp was one of delight.
"A duke!"
"Is there a reason he had to ask you?" her father asked, a frown on his face.
Her reputation was the main reason, but she did not disclose this, simply shaking her head. "I’m sure he will apologise, Papa, for not asking you for my hand. It was all rather unexpected…"
"Indeed!" her mother said, a beam upon her face. "After four Seasons, you get an offer from a duke! What a development. And you have accepted him, yes?"
"I have." Penelope could not bear to tell them that it would be a marriage in name only, that he was only doing it to save her reputation and to ensure his own honour was not maligned.
