Odette barely sat in one place. Penelope had expected her to sulk for the entirety of the picnic, but she was acting the exact opposite.
She was on her feet, already kicking off her shoes to chase a ball across the lawn. Penelope was in awe of the transformation.
Gone was the guarded, brooding girl who had sat stiffly at breakfast. This Odette was carefree, as she darted forward to intercept the ball Alexander had casually tossed her way.
“Again!” Odette shouted.
“You lost the last round, if I recall,” Alexander smirked.
“I let you win!”
Penelope could hardly tear her gaze away from the scene. Both father and daughter were so different in each other's company.
If Penelope did not know any better, she would think they were father and son. Odette certainly did not dress like a girl, nor did she behave like one.
She was loud, rambunctious, and entirely unladylike.
When Alexander tossed the ball again, Odette lunged to catch it and fell into the grass, laughing as she did.
There was no question thatthiswas where she was happiest. Moments when she was allowed to be carefree, and to act like a child without a care in the world.
The realization was sobering.
Penelope watched as Alexander knelt beside his daughter, murmuring something she couldn’t hear. Odette rolled her eyes but smiled up at him anyway.
“Come on now,” Alexander said. “I beat you, fairly.”
Penelope glanced at the ruined trousers that Odette had on, stained with grass and dirt. The picnic that she had set out lay forgotten amongst the action.
“Perhaps it is a good idea to take a break now,” she called out, holding up a basket of baked good for the duo. Slowly, they wandered back to the blanket. “Would you like a sandwich, Odette? All that running must have tired you out.”
“No,” Odette said, flopping down beside her and wiping her face on her sleeve. “I’m not hungry.”
Penelope held out a plate anyway. “You need strength if you plan to keep up with His Grace.”
“I’m winning,” Odette replied quickly, glancing at her father.
“I let her win,” Alexander said flatly.
“He cheats,” Odette glared.
Penelope chuckled, more to herself than them. Watching the two of them like this was endearing, yes. But it also explained so much.
Odette didn’t know how to play gently. She had been taught to fight. Even with her father, whom she clearly loved, everything was a contest.
“You’re very alike,” Penelope observed.
“We are?” Alexander turned to her.
She nodded, though Odette suddenly pretended not to listen.
“You both like to win. And neither of you has much patience for politeness.”
“I’m plenty polite,” Odette protested rudely. The irony seemed lost on her.
“It’s all right,” Penelope said kindly. “It is something we can work on.”
Odette narrowed her eyes and then leaned over to whisper to Penelope.
