Page 57 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

Her question caught Penelope by surprise. “N-Nothing, Mother,” she lied. “I just wanted to bring you this.”

With just a glance, she was able to tell I was upset. I need to be more careful lest she deduce how crushed I am after…

She passed the canvas to her as she asked, “Please consider it an apology offering. Out of all the trips Father took us on, I believe you enjoyed our visit to East Brentmoor the most.”

“Oh, Penny!” Mother exclaimed. “You captured the sea exactly as I remember it!”

Penelope let out a dry chuckle at the obviously biased remark, “I can still hear the panic in your voice when Father picked up that crab with his bare hands and began showing it off.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” shuddered her mother. “He was waving it around as though it were some sort of toy while I was completely terrified that he would blind either you or himself!”

Penelope grinned, settling into the chair next to her. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since our last discussion, Mother.” Penelope fidgeted with her hands. “And I wanted to apologize for losing my temper when you’re already going through so much.”

“Hush now, dear!” Her mother gave her hand a squeeze, “I know this has been an especially difficult time for you as well. I should be apologizing for being such a burden.”

Penelope shook her head fervently, “You have never been—and never will be—a burden, Mother.” She squeezed her hand in return, “These last few weeks have merely been… complicated—much like your marriage with Father had been.”

“I don’t know if ‘complicated’ is exactly how I would describe it…” Mother thoughtfully returned, reclining in her chair. “Yes, he had his flaws, but he had lots of wonderful qualities as well.”

“He did,” Penelope nodded in agreement, “but even you must admit that Father’s unfaithfulness did complicate your marriage to an extent...”

“It hardly felt that way to me.” Mother smiled. “He was my husband, and I loved him... imperfections and all.”

“But you deserved so much better, Mother. Can’t you see that?” Penelope frowned, but attempted to restrain herself—not wanting to start another fight. “You were the most wonderful wife to him to the end, while he betrayed your trust countless times over the years.”

“In that sense, I suppose... itwassomewhat unfair,” Mother finally admitted, “but what else could I have done? No husband is perfect, so no marriage ever will be. Sometimes, one must simply be grateful for what she can get.”

Penelope mulled her words over.

“So, in other words,” she refilled Mother’s teacup for her, “you do not regret marrying father at all... despiteeverything?”

“Of course not, dearest.” Her mother gently cupped her face. “After all, our marriage brought usyou.”

Penelope thanked her mother for being so lovely as she returned her teacup to her. “In that case, you have greatly helped me to make up my mind.”

“About what, dear?” Mother sipped her tea.

“I have decided to get married,” she blurted out, her leg suddenly beginning to bounce as she did so.

“That’s so wonderful to hear!” Mother exclaimed in delight. “I know we haven’t had the chance to discuss much these last few weeks. But I always thought that you and the Duke of Blackmoore made such a wonderful-”

“Er, I wasn't speaking with regards to the Duke of Blackmoore, Mother,” Penelope sheepishly confessed, eliciting a confused frown from the older woman.

“I beg your pardon?” Mother blinked.

“He’s not the marrying type, Mother,” Penelope reminded her with an eye roll.

“Well, neither were you,” retorted the other woman, “so you can see why I thought he would be the best person to change your mind about the subject.”

Penelope’s hand tightened into a fist. “He’s nothing but a rake,” she silently added,Last night proved that.

Even though Penelope had vowed to be more open and forthcoming with Mother, she still couldn’t bring herself to admit out loud that she hadalmostconfessed her attraction to His Grace under the archway last night.

That hadn’t been her initial plan, of course. Initially, she simply wanted to inform him that she intended to keep her distance from him—both because of their diverging approaches to her hunt for a husband as well as because Penelope didn’t like how comfortable she had allowed herself to grow around him since she and Mother began their stay at Blackmoore Manor.

But she faltered when he tenderly wrapped his jacket around her, as he despaired and pleaded for her to tell him what was bothering her, as he gently caressed her hands in his own—mindlessly stroking the back of her hand as they spoke.

She had almost fallen for it, almost allowed him in, almost allowed herself to admit that-

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