“Anything, Broward. Anything at all.” He motioned for the butler to continue.
“Perhaps it may be prudent of you to seek out the council of the Duke.” He nodded with his chin in the general direction of the Branigan estate. “His steward, Mr. Percival, may well be able to assist you in obtaining an equally capable steward.”
Daniel pursed his lips at this suggestion. He’d planned to seek out His Grace, the Duke anyhow, for he was the father figure of his youth. In the past, he’d excused his tardiness in seeking him out by telling himself his visits were so brief that there was no time. Now that he was here for a longer period, there was no such excuse. And he’d already vowed to visit the other occupant of Branigan Manor, Lady Penelope.
At the mere thought of her name, he broke into a smile. It seemed the feelings he managed to suppress for so long while away came back stronger, the closer he was to her. It was as if his body knew she was near and it called out for her.
No, he thought to himself as he shook his head.
It is not my body. My heart. It still aches for her after all of these years. And now, at last, I’ll see her again.
Chapter 5
Penelope stood at the window and looked out at the woods behind Branigan Manor. She could not see it, but she knew that just beyond the tree line was Carlton Manor. The home of Daniel, before he came to live with them.
How strange it is to know that he’s there right now. Walking the halls, or seated at the old table in the airy dining hall. So close, and yet very far. As always.
“Penelope?” Her father’s voice called out from behind her. She turned and saw him enter the breakfast room, leaning heavily on his cane. “What is the matter? Since yesterday, I have seen you standing by the window several times looking out towards the forest with a forlorn expression on your face.”
She turned and shook her head, forcing a bright smile on her lips.
“It is nothing, Papa. Just lost in thought. Old memories.” She slid into the chair across from him and focused on the breakfast spread before them. There was a pot of jam along with fresh butter, honey bread, hot rolls, plum cake, and a steaming pot of tea. She reached for a hot roll and started cutting it open when her father’s lingering stare stopped her in her tracks. She glanced up and saw him looking at her with his lips pursed.
“What is it, Papa? Do you require help cutting your roll?”
He shook his head with a smile. “I am not as feeble as all that. Nor am I feeble-minded. I know my daughter. What is on your mind, my dear?”
She swallowed and sighed, setting her knife down. “I overheard you and Mr. Percival speaking yesterday. I heard him tell you that Daniel has returned.”
She stopped and examined her father’s face. His cheek twitched as it often did when he was nervous. He swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple bopped up and down. “He has.” He said at last, his voice dry and neutral. “I was going to tell you at a later time, once I was sure he was indeed here to stay. As you know, he has come and gone in the past.”
And never once stopped to see me. Not once. Will now really be any different?
“Is it true he is staying for some time, then? Or have you not yet found out?” She wanted to sound nonchalant, but found a quiver in her voice she did not care for. Penelope picked her knife back up and finished cutting her roll, removing the soft inside of the bread and kneading it between her thumb and index finger, a habit she’d kept from childhood.
“It is what Mr. Percival reports. As you know, Henry Scott passed away rather unexpectedly last month. I suppose he is here to find a new steward.”
Penelope nodded at this. It made sense. He surely had not returned for her sake. She looked at the roll in her hand, suddenly not hungry at all. The bitterness in her throat had overpowered any desire to eat. However, she knew she if did not, her father would only worry. With a deep sigh, she slathered butter and lemon curd on her roll and dipped it in her drinking chocolate. When she looked up, she noticed that her father’s eyes were still set on her.
“Is there more to say on the matter?” She inquired, already knowing that there was. Her father sighed and folded his hands together on the fine satin tablecloth.
“You are bound to hear sooner rather than later, as word is spreading in the village already.”
She frowned at this and placed her roll aside. “Word of what, Papa?”
Her father grimaced. “Daniel seems to have acquired somewhat of a reputation in London.”
Penelope frowned at this, but said nothing.
“It seems he’s become a bit of a fop, some even call him a rake.”
“A rake?” Penelope’s mouth dropped open. Surely, this was a mistake. As much as he’d disappointed and hurt her, she could not believe that her old childhood friend, her dear Daniel, had become a rake, engaged in vile debauchery so closely associated with the term.
“I am afraid so. I could not believe it, either. But then, he is well inlaid and seems to have used his wealth to keep himself entertained. And we must consider this—we have not seen the boy in nine long years. He may have changed from the way he once was. I am sorry to have to tell you, Penelope, but I thought you ought to know, should he decide to call upon us.”
The subject of Daniel seemed to be closed then, as her father returned his attention to the spread on the table, loading his plate with assorted cakes and rolls.
Normally, Penelope would have chided him, but today she was not in the mood; a situation of which her father took full advantage, leaving her to sit and chew her roll in silence.
