Page 28 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

She stared daggers at him for showing off so blatantly. But the duke wordlessly fired back with a completely innocent expression, almost as if to say:What? I’m just being a good friend.

Penelope thanked the maid and took a big gulp of her tea, making a note to kick His Grace as hard as possible the next time she got the chance.

CHAPTER9

“What about here, Mother?” Penelope gestured to the stone bench.

“Yes.” Mother nodded with a smile. “This has just the right balance of shade and sunlight.”

For the first time since Father had died, in fact, for the first time since Father had fallen ill, Mother and Penelope had finally resumed their afternoon garden strolls.

As the two women took their places on the bench, Penelope retrieved her book from the basket before sliding it towards Mother, so that the latter could retrieve her needle and threads.

Penelope did her best to read but couldn't help but sneak worried glances at Mother out of the corner of her eye every now and then.

After breakfast, the rest of the morning passed by rather quietly and uneventfully, which Penelope had been most grateful for as it allowed her to make up for the sleep lost last night.

By the time luncheon rolled around, she finally felt back to her usual self. It was actually the dowager duchess who brought up the idea of an afternoon garden stroll.

Penelope concurred at once, presuming that Her Grace was addressing her alone. However, to her surprise, the dowager duchess took a moment to swallow her cake before turning to Mother to add, “Make sure you put on a shawl, Sophia, dear. As pleasant as the spring breezes are, you would do well to guard yourself against them in your weakened state.”

Even more unexpected was the way that Mother had hardly protested at all.

His Grace wasn't exaggerating when he alluded to how persuasive his family can be.

The three women had agreed to give each other some time to get dressed, grab their personal affects, and meet near the rear entrance of the house. However, when the time came, Mr. Rowley informed Penelope and Mother that Her Grace would run a little bit late as some urgent correspondence had suddenly arrived.

In hindsight, it was also entirely possible that Her Grace was doing this as a way of giving Penelope and Mother a chance to converse privately. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at this thought because it appeared like the exact sort of orchestration the Duke of Blackmoore would be guilty of himself.

Like mother, like son, I suppose.

And now that she had been given this opportunity, Penelope had to make sure to take full advantage of it.

“It's so good to see that you’re embroidering again.” Penelope smiled softly.

“Darling, you know I wouldn’t have slowed down at all if it weren’t for my joints.” The older woman sighed, momentarily putting down her embroidery to examine her hands. “Truthfully, they’re still a bit painful, but I’ve missed embroidering so very much.”

“I’m not surprised at all.” Penelope chuckled. “I distinctly recall numerous picnics and tris where you were perfectly content with your embroidery while Father and I played in the grass.”

Mother exhaled slightly through her nose. “Your father used to always tease me, saying that I might as well have stayed at home if I wasn’t going to so much as touch the grass.”

She met Penelope’s gaze, her eyes now wet. “Now that he’s gone, I wish I had listened. I wish I had spent more time with-”

Penelope furiously shook her head. “Mother... if there is anyone to be blamed for you and Father not having spent enough time together, it would be Fathe-”

“Penelope!” her mother snapped, her eyes welling up even more so now. “How dare you say something so heartless about your own-”

Penelope leaped up from her spot, “But it’s true! If he had spent more time at home instead of gallivanting with-”

Mother didn’t let her finish, jumping up from the bench with a sob and running towards the house, pushing past the Dowager Duchess and the Duke of Blackmoore as she did.

“Sophia?” the dowager duchess called after her, but to no avail.

Only just now realizing that they were here, Penelope blinked her tears away, but new tears came to replace them. The dowager duchess sent Penelope a sympathetic look before turning around to follow after Mother.

For her part, Penelope threw herself back onto the bench and buried her face in her hands. As she sobbed, she felt something soft touch her fingers.

Lowering her hands, she found His Grace offering her his handkerchief wearing a limp smile. She silently accepted it from him and began dabbing her eyes.

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