“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” he said, smiling brightly.
Penelope looked between the man and Isadora in surprise.
“Duke of Redhaven,” he went on, “Old friend of Alexander’s. Pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace.”
“Oh,” Penelope said. She did not expect to meet any of his friends at the dinner. “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”
“Please, Oliver will do just fine. I’ve known Alexander too long to bear the burden of formality,” he continued . “You seem rather surprised to see me. Is this a bad time?”
“No, no,” Penelope said, shaking her head. “It is just that..”
“He never mentioned me to you, did he?” Oliver chuckled. “I would not be surprised if that were the case. He is a rather mysterious lad, if I may say so myself.”
Penelope let out a chuckle at that.
“He certainly does like to keep to himself.”
“That’s putting it delicately,” Oliver said with a grin. “He’s a closed book. But I do have the privilege of reading a page or two now and then.”
“Do you spend much time together?” she asked.
“More than most,” he replied. “Which is to say, perhaps once a week. I daresay I might be the only friend who sees him with any consistency.”
“That’s a surprise,” Penelope said thoughtfully. “He does not speak much of his friends.”
“He does not speak much about anything,” Oliver laughed. “The man likes to keep to himself.”
“Were you with him the other night?” Penelope asked, suddenly remembering.
Oliver raised a brow. “Which night are you speaking about?”
“The one—” she hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to keep her tone even. “The one where he got injured. His hand. Was that with you?”
“So you noticed?” A knowing smile curved across Oliver’s face.
“What do you meannoticed?”
He gave a triumphant shake of his head. “Nothing at all, Your Grace. Only that I’ve just won a rather ridiculous bet.”
“What bet?” Penelope’s brows drew together in confusion, and then she looked at Isadora – who was merely watching the conversation unfold.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t divulge the terms. It would ruin the sport of it,” Oliver laughed. “But I am glad that you mentioned this to me. Truly. To answer your question, though, yes I was there.”
She gave him a suspicious look. He was not making much sense.
“Hope you did not worry too much about him,” he went on. “Alexander knows how to handle these situations well.”
“Did he deserve it? The man he...” Penelope could not bring herself to complete the sentence.
“Oh, he deserved worse. Your Grace, Alexander is many things but he is not an unjust man,” Oliver shrugged. “I would argue, rather, that his sense of justice is one of the strongest things about his personality. Much to the point that it gets overbearing.”
“That is hardly a bad thing,” Penelope mused, feeling strangely reassured.
“No, it really isn’t,” Oliver nodded in agreement. “But he does not shy away from trouble either, I shall tell you that. I’m hoping you soften him up a bit.”
“Oh, I am trying,” Penelope admitted, blushing. It felt refreshing to speak to someone who knew what Alexander was like. “How come he has never invited you over to the house before? I have a feeling that I can learn a great deal about my husband just by speaking with you.”
“That might be precisely why he hasn’t invited me,” Oliver chuckled loudly.
