Page 18 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

“To be clear, do you intend to ignore me for the entirety of this promenade? Because if so, you’re wasting precious time that we simply can’t spare.”

Penelope simply lifted her chin higher. She didn’t care if doing so risked attracting attention from the other Brydon Park visitors because she needed to let His Grace know that he had crossed a line.

When she returned to her room after their discussion at the breakfast table, she discovered that the ‘present’ he had alluded to was the return of the armchair that she had asked the servants to put away,plusa second armchair crammed in next to it for good measure.

Naturally, she confronted him about this at once. And upon doing so she learned that His Grace and his friends happened to run into the servants as they attempted to put the armchair in the attic and decided that perhaps if one wasn’t enough to please her, then two ought to do the trick.

After much debate, both armchairs were eventually removed from her room. But even so, Penelope announced that she no longer had any intention of joining him and the dowager duchess for a promenade.

But when they informed her that they had somehow managed to convince Mother to agree to promenade with them, well, Penelope could hardly say ‘no’ then, could she?

Presently, she looked over her shoulder and found Mother and the dowager duchess contentedly meandering behind her and His Grace.

In the meantime, His Grace endeavored to get her to break her silence, but he was also clearly losing patience. “Very well, then! But don’t expect me to answer your questions about any potential suitors you might be interested in today.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, content to stroll with silence for the remainder of their promenade.

Besides, even if I ‘waste’ today’s opportunity, there’s still tomorrow,she assured herself.

But just as they came towards the central collection of water fountains, Penelope locked eyes with a familiar face and waved giddily.

Jerome Campbell—Earl of Graystone—jogged up to them wearing a giant grin. “A very good afternoon, fair Lady Penny!”

“Jerry Gray!” Penelope exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Aren’t you supposed to be running up some mountain in Scotland?”

“Up until last week, I was, actually!” His smile faded to be replaced with a somber expression. “I’m so sorry for missing the funeral, Pen.”

“It’s quite all right.” She pursed her lips. “The church was already overflowing as it was. Besides,” she tilted her head, “if you had shown up inthatstate, you’d have received a stern scolding from Father’s ghost.”

Her friend shuddered. “You jest, but your father might have actually done it though.”

“What did he threaten you with that one time?” Penelope giggled. “Oh yes! That he was going to harvest-”

“-harvest my hair to make a new broom.” Jerry chuckled, “It worked though, I ran straight home and demanded that my father take me to get my hair cut to ensure your dad wouldn’t benefit from it.”

“Graystone!” Mother called from behind them, pulling him in for a hug. “Good heavens! Did they run out of food in Scotland? You’re all skin and bone!” she exclaimed, pinching his cheek.

The irony of this remark coming from Mother given the state of her own eating habits was not lost on Penelope.

“Lady Punton...” Jerry groaned, playfully rolling his eyes.

But Mother paid little mind to his complaint, taking him by the arm and adding, “I’m certain you remember Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore, and her son—the Duke of Blackmoore.”

“But of course!” Jerry bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Graces! I believe my father was acquainted with the late Duke of Blackmoore, that is, before your family moved away from Pelshead.”

“Why, of course!” replied the dowager duchess. “You were only about this high when we sold that estate, which—I believe —was around when Duncan started at Winsling Academy.”

After several minutes of pleasantries, Jerome asked Penelope if they could speak more privately. With Mother’s approval, they chose a bench in front of one of the fountains—in full view of their chaperones.

Leaning on his palms he asked, “Did you get my last letter or have I somehow managed to arrive before it?”

Penelope shook her head. “Haven’t received it yet, I’m afraid. Why? Any exciting news?”

“Not really.” His expression grew more serious. “It was a response to everything you said about...” he lowered his voice and scanned their surroundings, “...the situation with your Uncle Winston.”

Even just hearing that wretched monster’s name immediately caused her shoulders to drop. “Yes... that situation.”

Jerome twiddled his thumbs. “You didn’t mention it in your letter, but I feel like you already know what must be done.” After a sharp inhale, he looked straight into her eyes and stated matter-of-factly, “You need... a husband, Pen.”

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