She had asked him a question about duty. And he had answered her with something dangerously close to pining.
Penelope let out a quiet sigh, then reached for her hairbrush. But even as she began brushing through her hair, her thoughts lingered on the conversation.
Claiming each other.
She knew what it meant. Of course she did. She did not need Isadora to lecture her to understand.
But was she prepared for it?
CHAPTER 13
“Try that note again,” Penelope said to Odette. The young girl had kept her word, and showed up for the piano lesson.
She gave a small sigh but obediently placed her hands back on the keys.
“I already did it twice.”
“And a third time won’t hurt,” Penelope smiled. “It’s how you learn.”
Odette played the passage again, hesitant at first, but better than before.
“There,” Penelope said, encouraging. “See? That was already smoother.”
Odette narrowed her eyes at the sheet music. “Why does every piece have to be so annoying and delicate?”
“Because someone, somewhere, decided that delicate girls ought to play delicate songs,” Penelope laughed.
“That’s silly,” Odette huffed.
“I quite agree,” Penelope replied. “Which is why we’re skipping to this part—look.” She pointed to a more energetic section halfway down the page. “Much more dramatic. It might suit you.”
“That sounds better,” Odette’s fingers twitched with interest.
Penelope leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. “You know, when I was your age, I hated the pianoforte.”
“You did?” Odette’s head whipped around in surprise.
“With a passion,” Penelope confirmed. “But then I discovered that playing could be freeing, if you were allowed to make a bit of noise now and then.”
“So… are you saying I can play it badly?” Odette gave her a look.
“I’m saying you’re allowed to enjoy it first,” Penelope smiled. “We can worry about perfection later.”
Odette turned back to the keys, and this time, her posture was just a little more relaxed.
“You’re not like other teachers,” she said after a moment.
“I should hope not,” Penelope replied lightly. “Most of them are stuffy old people.”
Odette glanced at her sideways. “You’re not very good at being strict, either.”
“No,” Penelope agreed, “but I’m excellent at being patient.”
The girl didn’t answer, but her fingers started moving again. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the final bar, missing only one note.
Penelope clapped gently.
“Now that,” she said, “was a lot better.”
