“I say this for your own best interest,” he continued in that same faux-concerned manner of his. “You ought to give him an heir at the very least. Otherwise, what was the point of all this?” he gestured vaguely around him.
“That’s enough.”
The voice came from the doorway, startling all three people present inside. Penelope looked at Alexander walking into the room.
“My lord,” he greeted George curtly, who stood up now.
“Your Grace,” he sputtered . For all his talk, he did not know how to hold his own in front of a duke.
“Whether my wife and I choose to have children, and when, is no concern of yours,” Alexander said calmly. George turned red, embarrassed at having been overheard.
“Your Grace, I meant no disrespect?—”
“You meant to insult her,” Alexander interrupted calmly. “And I don’t tolerate that. I don’t think it is wise for you to remain here, now that you have crossed a line which I think should not have been crossed.”
For a moment, there was only silence. George’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
“If you ever wish to return here,” he continued, “you will first offer my wife an apology. A sincere one. Otherwise, you are not welcome.”
Penelope did not even know how to intervene. No man had ever spoken in her defense like that, certainly not her own father. Even George looked speechless, for once devoid of any snarky retort.
“Well,” he muttered finally, casting a glance at Penelope’s direction. If he was hoping for her to come to his defense, that would not happen, “ If that’s how it is. Then we are leaving.”
“Safe travels,” Alexander muttered dryly, making no effort to ask him to stay, even though they had only just arrived not too long ago. George stomped out the door, not bothering to even say goodbye to his daughter.
Isadora looked stricken, but she stepped to Penelope and quickly took her hands.
“I’ll come back,” she whispered. “On my own. Soon.”
“Of course,” Penelope squeezed her sister’s hands. “I… do not know what to say about this.”
“He deserved it,” Isadora muttered under her breath, “don’t you worry, I shall speak to him in the carriage.” Then, with a final glance toward Alexander, Isadora turned and followed George out.
Alexander turned to Penelope then. “Are you all right?”
She gave a small nod. “I didn’t expect you to step in like that.”
“You shouldn’t have had to endure that,” he said simply. “Least of all from family.”
“Father has a habit of speaking when he ought to stay silent,” Penelope pressed her lips together.
“You should not let him,” Alexander reminded her pointedly. “You are the Duchess now, lest you forget.”
“You always say that to me.”
“Because you seem to always forget it ,” he raised an eyebrow. “Your father is welcome to return when he decides to behave in a proper manner.”
“I am not sure that will be possible this lifetime,” Penelope let out a mirthless laugh.
Alexander began pacing in front of her, and Penelope wondered what was going on in his mind. He had a strange look on his face, and she could tell that something was brewing inside.
“Are you upset?” she blurted out.
He stopped his pacing to look at her, “You have just been on the receiving end of bad behavior, and still you are wondering if I am the one who is upset?”
“I am only asking because you seem rather disturbed ,” she sighed, walking up to him.
“Penelope,” he pressed his lips together, and looked down at her. There was an intensity in his gaze that locked her into place, making it impossible to move even an inch. “Why do you let people walk all over you?”
