With a deep, tired exhale, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to get some sleep.
Daybreak arrived with a clearer mind for Cecil, spurred by regret.
He realized rather quickly the error of his ways, along with the trouble he had asked for by pulling Penelope along with his whims. It had been one thing to indulge in the urge to tease her, intoxicated by her flushed and innocent expression.
However, it was another thing entirely to have taken it as far as he had. His actions were wrong, and he did not want to ruin the fragile friendship they had found in each other.
As soon as he was out of bed, Cecil set out to find her and apologize.
Once he was dressed, he left his room with the intention of speaking to her before breakfast. But he was intercepted almost as soon as he stepped into the dining hall, quickly surrounded by young women eager to greet him.
“Your Grace, good morning.”
“Did you have a good night’s rest, Your Grace? You seem rather tired still.”
“Are you interested in riding, Your Grace? Perhaps you and I shall –”
“Ladies,” he spoke up, his voice cutting through the cacophony of high-pitched noise. “I am honoured to have been chosen by wonderful flowers such as yourself to be on the receiving end of your attention. I am incredibly flattered. Perhaps we can converse properly after. Is that all right?”
The women immediately chorused in agreement, swiftly leaving in a flurry of colourful dresses, allowing him to exhale deeply. It would have been an ideal opportunity to investigate a potentialwife, but without Penelope by his side, Cecil was not willing to take any unnecessary risks.
He’d much rather rely on her assistance about these matters, especially since it seemed she had a keen eye for good character.
Unfortunately, breakfast began before he could find her, and he spent the entire mealtime glancing up and down the table in hopes that he could catch a glimpse of her face.
After breakfast, the guests dispersed, and he continued his search, making his way to the garden. It seemed that most of the guests had the same idea; many of them scattered around the lawn, engaged in deep conversations.
Cecil moved quickly, hoping none of the women from earlier would spot him before he found Penelope. Thankfully, his wandering gaze found her near a rose bush, speaking to someone. Moments later, he recognized the man to be the same one who had held her attention the night before.
The same feeling of irritation he had felt last night welled up within him once more as she grinned, nodding at whatever the man was saying. Cecil could not understand how that viscount managed to captivate her when all the subjects he had brought up at dinner were boring.
He wondered what on earth was making her laugh so much, then promptly decided to put an end to it regardless. As he took a step towards them, Lionel’s voice cut through the air.
“Everyone! Arrangement are being made for a game of croquet! If you would like to participate, come closer so you can choose a mallet.”
Most of the guests around let out excited cheers, including Matthias and Penelope. Cecil agreed to join the game as well, believing it would offer him a good opportunity to speak to Penelope.
When the preparations were complete, mallets were handed out, with the option to choose offered to the ladies.
Walking closer, Cecil lingered behind Penelope as she pondered over her choice, whispering,
“Pick the third one from the left. The size is good enough not to weigh you down, while also being heavy enough to give you enough power behind each swing.”
Penelope reached for the barrel containing the mallets, lifted the first one on the right – blue and quite heavy looking – and walked away with her choice. Cecil frowned and started walking after her just as Lionel announced that the game was beginning.
He managed to end up next to her as the group was split into teams, grinning when they ended up on different teams.
“I'd wish you the best of luck, but I am not certain it will do much, given how displaced you grip is on the mallet.” Cecil stated with a smirk.
To his surprise, Penelope merely turned away, asking Matthias a question, to which the viscount eagerly offered a response as the game properly started.
It did not take Cecil too long to realize two things. The first – Penelope seemed to be avoiding him. No matter how close he got or what she said, he was met with silence, or she would simply walk away.
The second thing he observed was that Penelope was particularly bad at crochet. No matter how many examples of how to properly swing her mallet were demonstrated for her benefit, no matter what advice was given, she missed half the shots she took. The other half sent the ball flying in the opposite direction of where it was meant to go.
“Dear sister, you do know the goal of a game is to win, do you not?” Lionel questioned from a few feet away.
“Is that so? Silly me,” Penelope huffed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And here I thought to lose was a grander objective.”
