“You should not even be dancing with me. Do not ask me to do so again.”
Just then, the musical instruments quieted down, announcing the end of the dance. Penelope curtsied quickly and walked off the dance floor.
Cecil did not understand why she was acting this way or why she had said the things she had just said. His feelings felt heavier as he watched her leave him without an explanation, and head straight to Matthias, both of them leaving the ballroom moments later.
Anger crept up his spine, and he clenched his hands into a fist, not thinking twice before he headed after them.
Penelope’s face felt hot as she rushed to the veranda for some air.
She hoped that Matthias would keep his word and leave her be, as it was growing increasingly difficult to focus on keeping her feelings within her – as they were meant to be.
Seeing as she and Cecil had not spoken in a few days, she had not expected him to approach her, tonight of all times, much less lure her away for a dance. But once she was in his arms, she had forgotten the list of reasons why further contact and association with him was a terrible idea that she had come up with.
He always smelled divine, like the rum-infused chocolates Lionel had once brought back from one of his business trips. A single lungful of his scent always had her intoxicated, and she was on thin ice before he began to compliment her.
There was something strange about him tonight – something in his eyes that told her how risky it would be to continue to fall under his spell. It was one thing for her to orchestrate her own demise by falling for him. It was another thing entirely for her to allow herself to be swept up by his charm, even though she had come to terms with the implications of that bout of foolishness.
It was so difficult to walk away, but it had been necessary.
Just as she stepped onto the veranda, a hand grabbed onto her wrist. She turned around, her lips parting to tell the viscount to leave her be, only to find Cecil staring down at her with an angry expression.
“What –”
“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded, his voice sharper than she had ever heard it.
Penelope pulled her hand out of his grip and put some distance between them as she rubbed her sore wrist.
“I should be asking you that, Your Grace. I thought I had made myself clear earlier. What areyoudoing here?”
Cecil glanced around, seemingly searching for someone or something. When he did not find what he was looking for, he stepped towards her, his gaze dark as he said,
“What do you think, Penelope? What should I do when I see you wander out of the ballroom with a man on your heels? I am here to protect you as your brother’s friend. Go back inside, now.”
“How dare you?” Penelope snapped, irritated. “I did no such thing and you have no right to give me orders. Your position as my brother’s friend is of no relevance to me in any way, so do not delude yourself into believing that it grants you some sort of advantage over me.”
“Oh, I had forgotten how childish you were. How foolish of me. If my relationship to your brother does not matter, then my title as a duke should. I will not tell you again. Go back inside.” Cecil told her sternly.
“I will not! I fail to see how my being here is any of your concern. I did not ask for you to keep me company, neither were you actually asked to chaperone me. Surely you have better things to do, Your Grace.”
He clenched his jaw, and for a moment, Penelope wondered if he would scream. But he did not. Instead, he stepped closer towards her, wagging a finger in her face.
“You always act so haughty and proud, as though you are much smarted than everyone around you with your controversial opinions. But you were still foolish for trying to be alone with aman. As a lady who has been around thetonall your life, you should know better.”
It would seem that the feelings that had been swirling in Penelope since Cecil began this pointless persecution were mere pests in the face of the hot flames of fury that consumed her.
“Of all the narcissistic men I have ever met, you certainly deserve to be awarded for your silly little endeavours, Your Grace. You have no right to scold me. I have been alone with you countless times before and your moral compass was stuck on the south then! And you are not my brother, yet here you are – alone with me again! It would seem you are concerned about the wrong things, Your Grace. Lord Lockwood never came out with me because he is not interested in me in any romantic way.” She told him, exasperated and tired.
Cecil stared at her incredulously, and a humourless laugh bubbled out of his throat.
“My God,” he sighed, looking shocked and frustrated. “I knew you were inexperienced in certain matters, but I never would have guessed that you would be so naive.”
Penelope was quite finished with this pointless conversation. It hurt how she was struggling to come to terms with her feelings for this man, and he was utterly oblivious to that, seemingly finding nothing wrong with picking fights with her, as usual.
She did not want to stand here, exchanging words with him, pretending that she was content with slipping back into badhabits. Things had changed, and it seemed it fell to her to act accordingly.
“What are you really doing here, Your Grace? Do not answer that – because it actually does not matter. You should not be doing this to me. It is not fair. Please... stop confusing me and leave me be.” She practically begged, hoping that he would listen to reason.
He was silent for a moment, then he stepped closer with purpose, and before she knew it, they were kissing.
