Could his younger sister have a point? Should he try to forgive Lady Penelope and live with her in a real marriage?
It had, after all, been his plan before he had learnt of her deception. When he simply thought that she had rediscovered that she was the daughter of an earl, he had proposed marriage, with no thought of sending her to live away somewhere else.
And he allowed himself now to imagine a world in which that was the case. Where they said their vows surrounded by close family and returned home to Dunloch Castle. To live together in a similar way to how they had in those five days – except married. With no restrictions upon them. She distracted him from his work, it was true… But surely that effect would fade in time. And he had to admit to himself as he tossed and turned in bed that night, that he’d had far more fun in those five days than he had in a long time before.
Maybe… Just maybe he needed to move past her deception. Accept her apology… And see what they could have together.
???
Penelope did not wish to attend the Dowager Duchess's ball, but her parents had accepted the invitation, based on her earlier enthusiasm, and so she had no choice.
In truth, she was feeling rather miserable. Her success in warning off Mr Benjamin Pryce had been short-lived when she had realised that telling the Duke would surely just cause him to accuse her of meddling and plotting and scheming again. She had been trying to get back in his good graces, and yet now she feared she never would. Oh, she was popular with his sister Cecily – although perhaps not so much with Antonia. And she would be the Duchess of Dunloch soon enough. But perhaps she had to accept that her punishment for her childish behaviour was to live a life separate from the Duke, at least for the beginning of their marriage. Maybe the only thing to healthis wound was time… And she ought to avoid any more silly schemes.
"This ball has come at just the right time," said her mother with a smile as she appraised Penelope's ensemble. "A perfect bon voyage to society before we make the journey to Scotland for your nuptials."
Penelope hoped her smile looked like that of a nervous and excited bride, and not of a woman who knew that her fate was sealed.
"You will be the talk of the Season, you know. Especially with a brief appearance before making your debut next year as the Duchess of Dunloch." She clapped her hands together in glee. "Oh, what a marvellous year it has been. Lady Fitzgerald was very complimentary of you, you know. And who knows, by this time next year, perhaps there will be a future duke in the cradle of Dunloch Castle!"
It was so hard to keep a smile on her face when she felt like her heart was breaking. In a year’s time, she would surely be sequestered somewhere in the country, having not seen her husband in goodness knew how long. Those days at Dunloch, before she had admitted everything, stuck in her mind like a beautiful dream. A dream that she would have to hold on to after she was married, in the hopes that they could one day fix what she had broken.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
James's arrival at his Aunt Fitzgerald's home was a surprise to his aunt but not to Cecily.
She simply beamed, embraced him, and informed him that there was the perfect event for him to attend that evening.
"It's not like you to come to London, James," his aunt said, peering at him through her half-moon spectacles. "Although I also hear you are to marry, and that was rather unexpected too."
"Well, I would hate to be predictable," he said with a wry smile, for he had spent many years very much enjoying everything in his life being predictable.
"You are not staying long enough to open up your townhouse, then?" his aunt asked.
"No. This is only to be a short visit, and so, if I might trespass on your hospitality, I will not open up Dunloch Place."
His aunt waved a hand through the air. "Of course. I have plenty of rooms here, and they sit empty most of the year." His aunt was a wealthy widow, having chosen never to remarry after the death of her husband some fifteen years earlier. She seemed to rather enjoy her life as a matron of society, with enough money to do as she pleased and no one to answer to.
"You have come to speak to Lady Penelope, yes?" Cecily asked him softly while their aunt ordered tea to be brought to the parlour.
James nodded curtly. He was not used to answering to his sisters for anything, but he supposed that, since Cecily was the one who had told him to come, it was fair enough for her to ask his intentions.
"Yes. Although I would appreciate it, before I see her, if you could apprise me of what happened with Antonia so that I have all the facts."
He was still rather irritated that his sister had not come to him, as the head of the family, to deal with the situation. And he thought Cecily was aware of this, for she nodded meekly in response to his request.
"When we go to change for the ball," she said quietly, with a glance at their aunt to make sure they weren’t being overheard, "I will tell you everything then."
"Thank you," James said, finding that the words felt a little unusual coming from his lips. "And Lady Penelope will definitely be at the ball tonight?"
"She assured me she would be," Cecily said, before taking a seat again opposite their aunt and taking a cup of tea from the table. "It is to be her last ball before she leaves to return to you in Scotland – so your timing is impeccable."
Part of James wondered if he should go now to her family home and seek her out. He found himself keen to speak with her, to tell her that he hoped they could have a proper marriage, that he wanted to forgive her, to trust her again. And that he was grateful for everything she had done for his family.
But that conversation would make far more sense once he knew exactly what had occurred. And seeing her at a ball would avoid the risk of high emotions if he saw her in private. Besides, he rather wanted to dance with her.
It was an odd whim, and not one he had felt before. He did not like London, or balls, or dancing. But it was the way of the world that people met in places such as these. And although he knew Penelope far better than any girl he had danced with, he rather wanted to do things properly. To see her dressed in her finest gown, to watch her twirl beneath the candlelight of the glittering chandeliers.
The banns had been read. As soon as they returned home, they could be wed – and their life could begin.
