“Oh Cecil,” Nora gasped, reaching for her brother’s shoulder after he had gotten back up to his feet. “Are you all right?”
“Calm yourselves, my dears. It is not as bad as it appears.” Cecil laughed sarcastically, the sound hollow and grating to Penelope’s ears.
“I’ve been watching from the pavilion, but it all happened so fast. How on earth did this happen?” Nora questioned, lightly holding onto the arm attached to the injured shoulder, much to his ire as he responded.
“It was an accident —”
“It was my fault. I am apparently quite terrible at this game. Your Grace —” Penelope’s remorse was slipping into her voice, weighing her tone down greatly.
“It is fine. It’s likely just a bruise, it’ll heal.” Cecil cut her off sternly, tugging his arm away and moving out of their reach.
That seemed to be a wrong decision, because his face instantly contorted into a sharp wince. Nora rolled her eyes and turned to Penelope, her expression imploring as she said,
“Still as stubborn as a mule, even after all these years. Please, can you come with me tend to his injuries, Penelope? I fear I might strangle him if I have to help him alone.”
“I never asked you —”
“Hush, Cecil,” Nora shushed him without looking, her gaze pleading as she stared at Penelope in anticipation of her response.
Penelope glanced between them, knowing what it would mean to be so close to Cecil after the distance she had worked to put between them all day.
Slowly, she nodded, slightly placated by the relieved smile on Nora’s face.
“Wonderful. Let’s go, Cecil. Before you sustain yet another injury as a result of that your cunning tongue.” She told him, tugging the sleeve of his coat to lure him in the direction of the house.
Lionel chuckled when Cecil sent him a look of concern, waving him off as Penelope trailed behind them. Cecil’s complaints continued as she led them into a drawing room, instructing a maid nearby to bring her things to tend to his injury.
“I nearly cannot believe your horrible handling of a mallet led to me, of all people, getting hurt,” Cecil grunted, settling on a settee.
“Perhaps this was a divine punishment for some sin you’ve committed,” Nora scoffed.
The maid arrived with a bowl of ice and a small basket of bandages, placed the items on a table, then bowed and left.
“If I committed a sin that required divine punishment, it would likely have been a lightning strike and not something this small. If anything, I am merely a very victim of Penelope’s ire.”
Penelope blushed, her lips parting to argue on her behalf, but Nora spoke up first.
“I saw her play, and her shots — the ones she made anyway — never went in the direction she planned. Implying that she was able to aim at you and actually manage to hit you is rather farfetched.” The duchess said, pointing at her brother as sheordered. “Take off your coat and jacket so we can see the extent of the damage.”
“You just spoke in my defense, right? Because my ears seem to have caught hints of slander, somewhere in there.” Penelope huffed, frowning at her friend.
Nora turned to her; guilt visible in her gaze as she wrapped an arm around her.
“I thought your efforts and resilience greatly made up for your obvious lack of skill. You did very well, my darling.” The duchess assured her swiftly.
“Tell that to my possibly sprained shoulder.” Cecil complained.
Nora looked as though she was about to either smack or scold him, then her face went blank.
“Oh no, I was meant to give the chef some notes for dinner because one of our guests cannot ingest cheese,” she sighed, holding out a piece of cloth to Penelope. “Could you tend to this restless brother of mine? If he misbehaves, you have my permission to pinch him.”
“I blame Godric. He has taken my precious little sister and turned her into a tyrant — ow!” Cecil groaned as Nora patted his injured shoulder aggressively.
“He’s all yours,” she smiled at Penelope pleasantly and took her leave.
“Even as a married woman, she’s still a brat.” He grumbled, rubbing at his shoulder.
With a long-suffering sigh, he started to shrug off his jacket, reaching for the buttons of his shirt next. His nimble fingers made quick work of them, and before Penelope knew it, he was sitting before her half-naked.
