Penelope looked at Alexander, and then dissolved into laughter. It was the ideal end to their morning ride.
CHAPTER 17
“That was nearly perfect. Very well done, Odette.”
Penelope sat beside Odette on the bench. It was time for another one of their piano lessons. Odette was proving to be a fast learner. And she had even stopped her grumbling to a considerable degree.
If Penelope was to take a guess, she would almost claim that Odette had begun to enjoy the lessons. It was a little routine they had now, and if anything, it gave them the chance to spend some more time together.
Odette’s eyes lit up at the acknowledgement. “Was it truly? Or are you only saying that to make me feel better?”
“I would never do such a thing,” Penelope giggled. “Your tone was clear, and your posture—much improved.”
“I thought my wrist was about to give way,” Odette gave a dramatic sigh of relief. “I must have been holding my breath for half the piece.”
“Well, the effort is paying off well, and I can see it.”
Odette smiled ear to ear. The sight was a pleasure to witness. The transformation in the girl over the past weeks had been slow, but beautiful.
“You know, he’s been different lately,” Odette said after a moment, turning to Penelope. “Father, I mean. Nicer. Or perhaps not nicer, but… I don’t know. He listens more to me.”
“I’ve noticed it, too,” Penelope nodded in agreement.
“Do you think it’s because of you?” Odette’s voice dropped to a whisper, even though there was no one else in the room to overhear them.
“Because of me?” Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, you talk to him differently. You don’t just let him grumble and bark orders. You argue with him. No one argues with him.”
“Perhaps it has something to do with it,” Penelope said in a coy tone. “But I think it’s also because he’s trying. In his own way.”
“I feel that. Do you know he even told me I was brave after I got back on the horse the other day? He never says things like that.”
Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. She did not know this.
“He was proud.” It seemed that her little lecture on the importance of encouragement had paid off.
“I think so,” Odette whispered, as if afraid to acknowledge it aloud.
They sat quietly for a moment, Penelope’s hand gently resting over Odette’s.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Odette straightened. “Can I ask you something? And will you promise not to say no at once?”
“That depends entirely on what you’re about to ask.”
Odette clasped her hands together.
“I want to go to the park. Just us. You and me. Without Fergus. Or Lewis. Or anyone else trailing behind us like we might faint at the first sign of sunlight.”
“Just us?” Penelope’s brows lifted.
“Just this once! I swear I won’t ask again. I want to walk, and talk, and maybe feed the ducks, and not have Fergus lurking ten paces behind, pretending to look at trees. Please.”
Penelope hesitated. It was a big ask, even though Penelope knew that Odette wanted it badly.
“Odette, your father is very particular about safety,” she trailed.
“I know,” the little girl said quickly. “But I’ll stay close. I’ll do everything properly. And I’ll be with you, won’t I? Isn’t that protection enough?”
