Page 66 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

“I would completely understand if this puts you off seeing me any further,” Lord Gloushire had said, taking an awkward sip of his tea after his revelation, “but my selfish side does cling to the hope that this doesn't have to be the end of our involvement.”

Penelope had then explained at the time that of course, she didn’t mind—for which the viscount profusely thanked her as he planted chaste kisses of gratitude on her hands.

However, after he had left, the full weight of what she had agreed to finally hit her. Based on the rate at which everything was progressing, not only was Penelope anticipating being married by the end of the Season, but suddenly being a mother as well.

The viscount continued to assure her that she would fulfill the role well. But she found it difficult to take his words to heart since he always treated her kindly.

Would His Grace be more honest with me?She found herself remembering his relentless teasing and torment whenever Lord Gloushire would pay her a compliment.

She never expected to one day miss the duke’s irritating smugness. But in addition to having pushed him away, she also rarely got to see him even in the hallways.

Perhaps he was sleeping somewhere else these days? Or perhaps he had already found a new debutante to occupy his time. Her hands trembled of their own accord every time that thought crossed her mind.

It’s no longer any concern of yours,she would remind herself harshly.You have enough problems as it is.

It had now been a full week since Lord Gloushire revealed that he had children, but the dizziness and weight of it all had not yet left her.

It was sudden and overwhelming, but what choice did she have? If she spurned Lord Gloushire now, there was no way she could secure a new match before being forced to go home to Uncle Winston at the end of the Season.

Now here she sat, in a coach just outside Willowdale Manor, just about to meet her imminent step-children.

At Lord Gloushire’s recommendation, Penelope wore a pink dress this morning as it was his daughter Lucy’s favorite color.

“We can try this another day if this is still too much for you,” her suitor offered considerately.

“N-No!” Penelope choked out, “I’m all right, really. If Lucy and Reggie have even a fraction of their father’s charm and kindness, then I know that there’s nothing to worry about.”

She tried to sound as confident as possible, both for his sake and her own. And it appeared to work because, with a quick nod, he signaled to the servant and allowed him to open the coach door for them.

Penelope’s eyes adjusted to the sunlight as she and Mother were helped down. Willowdale Manor was smaller than their own property, but it still had a rather charming air to it.

Linking arms with Lord Gloushire as he led them into the house, Penelope began reminding herself how to breathe.

In... out...she told herself,In... out... Big smile, shoulders straight, it’ll be all right.

When they entered the parlor, both children—along with the small number of household staff—had lined up to greet them.

“Lucy, Reggie...” the viscount cooed, his tone even gentler than usual. “This is Lady Penelope and her mother—Lady Punton. Do you remember we talked about them the other day?”

The children nodded in unison, their wide eyes shyly avoiding direct contact.

Lucy had precious blonde curls that reached her shoulders, her small fingers unable to conceal her sweet features. She was slightly tall for a child of only six years old and bore little resemblance to her father, meaning that she must have resembled her late mother instead.

Reggie, however, looked like an almost perfect copy of his father, with his chestnut hair and large round eyes. At three years old, he only came up just past his older sister’s stomach. He had been named after his late grandfather Reginald, who Penelope suspected the boy also must have resembled quite closely.

At their father’s silent beckon, both children stepped forward, their hands clumsily joined together at the base of a bouquet that they bashfully raised towards Penelope.

“For me?” She placed a hand on her chest, kneeling forward to bring herself closer to their eye level. “Why, thank you both so much! You shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble though.” She smiled, before flashing her suitor an appreciative look.

“I like your dress,” Lucy breathed, reaching to touch Penelope’s sleeve. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you, I very much like yours too.” Penelope grinned, nodding to the bow in her hair. “It’s nice to find someone who also likes pink.”

Taking care to not leave the other child out, Penelope turned her head to ask, “And what about you, Reggie? What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow!” he beamed.

“Ah! Is that why my bouquet has these lovely daffodils in it?” Penelope smiled, holding the arrangement between them.

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