Page 82 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

Just after Penelope muttered her agreement, Mr. Rowley entered carrying a note for Her Grace. Penelope looked up from her cup of tea in time to see the dowager duchess’ smile drop.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?”

“It’s from Duncan,” explained the older woman. “It seems the urgent business he left to attend to yesterday is taking longer than expected and he shan’t be home for the next few days.”

“Oh.” Penelope swallowed, attempting to conceal the shakiness in her voice, “I see.”

CHAPTER27

“You’re so wonderful for helping me with this Rebecca.” Penelope smiled, shaking out her wrist now that the last invitation had been signed. “I know you’re busy enough as it is with-”

“None of that now, lovely!” Rebecca cooed, reaching across the table to squeeze Penelope’s hand. “My heart is just overflowing with joy—both for you and for Lord Gloushire. William will tell you that I’ve been saying nothing but what a wonderful couple you are since we heard the news.”

The two of them had made quick work of the stack of invitations, all that was left now was for Lord Gloushire to sign them too, and then they would be ready to be sent off.

There was a sense of finality brought on by sorting out the invitations that had been missing during the flurry of activity these last few days that Penelope had been subjected to. Seeing her name in writing next to Lord Gloushire’s just below the wedding date, it all suddenly felt very real.

Penelope ran a finger over the dried ink on the invitation.

“What are you thinking about, Penny?” Rebecca smiled. “Is something the matter?”

Yes, Penelope wanted to answer.I’m worried that I’m making a huge mistake.

But Rebecca appeared to be more excited about the wedding than Penelope herself. So instead, she concealed the true reason for her dismay. “It’s nothing more than the typical nervousness one expects when planning a wedding,” she lied, before throwing in a truth as well. “I suspect these nerves will only worsen the closer we draw to the ceremony.”

Rebecca exhaled a dreamy sigh. “I went through a similar thing for our wedding as well. But chin up, my lovely, it shall all be worth it in the end.”

Almost on cue, the dowager duchess and Mother sauntered into the room, gleefully announcing that they had almost finalized the menu for the wedding breakfast.

The older women joined them at the morning room dining table, closely followed by Rowley, whose arms bore drafts, recipe books, and newspapers that they had evidently been using for reference.

The discussion picked up a rather dizzying pace. And despite Penelope’s best efforts to keep up, the best she could do was muster an occasional polite nod whenever she was spoken to.

“Do you think Lord Gloushire would prefer lemon or strawberry tarts?” asked the dowager duchess.

Penelope hesitated, thinking back to how Lord Gloushire had complained about the strawberry ices from before.

But that could have meant that he simply disliked strawberries as ices, not that he disliked them in general, right?

Evidently noticing her hesitance, her friend spoke up on Penelope’s behalf, “Why not both? After all, I doubt Lord Gloushire will have much appetite or opportunity to eat given all the excitement.”

“You just reminded me of my husband.” Mother chuckled, her eyes almost sparkling with fondness. “I could hardly see the altar because of how much I was crying and when I finally took my place across from him, he was as pale as a ghost.”

“Father was?" Penelope asked to confirm.

“Indeed.” Mother smiled. “If only you could have seen the way his fingers trembled as I tried to slip his wedding band onto him. All I could do was pray that I wouldn’t drop the ring in front of everyone.”

The dowager duchess delicately stifled her laugh. “I can still see him in my mind’s eye. We were all so worried he would collapse.”

“I hope your wedding wasn’t as nerve-racking, Your Grace,” Penelope interjected, still smiling at the notion of her usually self-assured father being reduced to a trembling mess.

The dowager duchess’ smile widened even further as a hint of pink tinged her cheeks. “Oh goodness, I’m afraid that my husband and I were hardly ‘present’ for our wedding. I was so busy staring into his eyes, I almost forgot to say, ‘I do’ when my turn arrived.”

Another round of airy laughter poured forth from all sides of the table. Penelope hoped that she could have memories even half as fond as her companions’ when she looked back on her own wedding day.

However, the other three women had one key advantage—they had each been completely head over heels for their grooms at the time.

Mother said that love isn’t a necessary ingredient for marriage,Penelope reminded herself, but her resolve weakened again when the other side of her heart bitterly retorted:It's an easy assertion for Mother to make given that her marriage was full of love.

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