“Perhaps you should be concerned if that is the case, as that is not the sort of feelings you should evoke in a lady,” Lionel pointed out, gently patting Cecil’s shoulder.
Penelope glanced between them, somewhat irked by the easy surrender Cecil provided almost immediately.
“Why not? I thought he loved nothing more than being a pest,” she huffed, folding her arms.
“Well,” Lionel grinned, looking as though the news he was about to share could not have made him happier. “The duke has decided to set himself on a quest to find a wife.”
“Oh,” Penelope schooled her expression to be as plain as possible. “Oh dear. That poor woman – whoever she may be.”
“You may jest now, but out there is a lady, eager to spend the rest of her life with me. Just as I am eager to dedicate the rest of my days to her.” Cecil pledged, holding a hand up solemnly.
Although his expression still looked playful, his voice was almost… grave. Penelope could help but say, her voice light and teasing.
“You almost sound as though you are seeking a real commitment.”
For the first time that afternoon, Cecil’s eyes dimmed, and his face grew serious.
“Yes, that is because I am serious. How could I not be, when I aim to choose someone who will be by my side until the end of my life?”
His words caused a strange twinge within Penelope’s chest, and to her utter dismay, she found herself wondering if she had perhaps been mistaken.
Maybe… she was wrong, and Cecil’s values did align with Jane’s. Maybe Cecil was out to find love as well.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Penelope turned around, as she mumbled, loud enough for them to hear,
“Well then, good luck with that.”
“How kind of you to say —”
“I said it on behalf of the poor woman who will be unfortunate enough to marry you!” she shot over her shoulder, glancing at her brother sweetly as she said, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, brother dear.”
Lionel waved while Cecil scowled, and she felt a rush of satisfaction fill her as she slipped out of the room.
In the hallway, she paused, hoping to God that she really had been wrong and there was nothing to worry about.
It seemed that no matter how much Penelope tried, she could not seem to shake off her ability and the ever-growing need to worry about Cecil and Jane.
In the single day it had been since Cecil had begun his temporary stay at the Bellcourt residence, Penelope had found her thoughts disconcertingly preoccupied by the irritating Duke.
In his absence, she wondered if he had gone to call on Jane, wondering what tricks he might use to seduce her dear, kind friend, and feared that they might work. And when he was around, it was all she could do to keep herself from grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and demanding his intentions with Jane.
Now, it seemed they had all been invited to the same ball, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jane and Cecil as they danced.
Cecil had always claimed the attention of women with a single glance. And now that he was a Duke, ladies were constantly whispering about him, fluttering their eyelashes in hopes he would glance in their direction.
But tonight, he only had eyes for Jane, asking her to dance as soon as they were comfortably situated. And from where Penelope stood, Jane appeared to be thoroughly content with the conversation they were having, the light flush across her cheeks undoubtedly a reaction to their proximity.
A man stepped in Penelope’s line of sight, and she fought the urge to scowl instantly, craning her neck so she could see Jane and Cecil properly once more.
“Pardon me, Miss, I couldn’t help but notice that you were —”
“Preoccupied. Very much so,” she said curtly without sparing him a glance.
The man frowned in confusion. “Are you really? Because it seems to me that you are simply standing and watching the dance floor with rapt attention. If you wish, we could —”
“I do not. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“But you have not even heard my request!”
