With the glass of water halfway to her lips, Penelope watched Jane duck her head to suppress a laugh, feeling a strange sense of dread come over her. Unlike when she had been convinced Cecil’s intentions for Jane were not good, she did not know what to make of this unexpected rendezvous.
She did not know that Jane had forgiven him for deceiving her, nor did she expect that they would flaunt whatever closeness lay between them.
Had Jane not moved on? Was Cecil not trying to appeal to young potential brides as an unattached man? What were they both doing?
Penelope looked away and drank her water, her throat suddenly feeling tight and itchy. She found a small painting of a sunset over the horizon on the wall nearby and studied it with intense concentration for a couple of seconds.
Then she looked back.
They were still talking. Cecil had a small smile on his face – not the smirk or the teasing grimace he flashed whenever he was deliberately trying to get under her skin. It was the one she had recently learned was a genuine indicator of how pleased he was, which often manifested with irritating brightness in his eyes.
Penelope set her glass down, inhaling deeply in hopes of calming the unease within her.
Perhaps she has caught a cold. That was the only sensible explanation for the faintly unpleasant feeling currently making itself at home somewhere in her ribcage. She pressed her fingers to the side of her neck, checking for a temperature, and found her skin warm to the touch.
There. A cold. Mystery solved.
The guests began to filter back toward their seats as the musicians returned to their places, and Penelope made her way back to her chair. She settled in and looked to her left, expecting to find Lionel, who had occupied the spot halfway through the first phase of the performance.
But rather than her brother, she found instead the familiar silhouette of a very tall, very composed duke lowering himself into the chair beside her with the ease of a man who had been invited.
She blinked, a tad surprised, then was greatly annoyed a breath later.
“You,” Penelope said, seething.
“Me,” Cecil agreed pleasantly, crossing one leg over the other and directing his attention toward the quartet.
For the first time since he’d received his new title, he looked like a duke, regal and poised, the sight of it filling her with a different sort of discomfort.
“What are you doing?” Penelope demanded, in a whisper that she hoped conveyed the full weight of her displeasure without disturbing the surrounding guests.
“Sitting,” Cecil replied, looking as though he had never in his life done anything that would warrant such an accusatory question.
“That is Lionel's seat.”
“It was Lionel's seat,” he corrected with a smirk. “Your brother and I came to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”
He glanced toward the far side of the arc, and Penelope followed his gaze to where Lionel had settled himself next to Jane with the slightly sheepish expression of a man who knew perfectly well he would be talked about.
“Miss Fenwell has been looking for an opportunity to speak with him all morning. She is rather particular about initiating conversations, it seems – too polite to impose herself. I simply removed the obstacle.” Cecil explained calmly, turning his face forward to the quartet once more.
Penelope stared at him. “You exchanged seats so that Jane could speak with my brother.”
“I did.”
His easy willingness surprised her to no end, and she could not help but inquire, “Why?”
“Because she wants a love match, and there is no use in me wasting either of our time.” He said it simply, without any inflection of self-pity, as though it were merely a logisticalobservation rather than anything that might have cost him something. “She is lovely, but she is not what I am looking for. And she deserves someone who can give her what she wants. Whether that will be Lionel remains to be seen, but they appear to be off to a good start.”
Penelope found herself momentarily without a response, which was a disconcerting sensation.
“You could have sat beside another lady,” she said finally. “There were several without companions. You could have made some progress on your own objective.”
He tilted his head slightly, and she could see the beginning of a smile — the same one he had given to Jane so freely that it left her feeling strangely bereft.
“Lady Penelope, you almost sound as though you do not want me here.”
“I am merely pointing out that there were options.” She shrugged, finding it oddly difficult to look away from his handsome face.
