Page 48 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
In Barbara’s defense, she turned down the glass of wine at first. But Alexandra was insistent, and then Margaret snatched the glass and pretended to drink it unless Barbara took it back. The sisters laughed, Barbara laughed along, and then she took the glass of wine and had a sip.
And across the garden, Dorian stared, his brow tight with worry.
“Who is that young girl hanging off your husband’s side like a bad cold?” Albina asked, an edge to her voice. “And why does he allow it?”
Penelope knew who she was speaking of, which is why she forced herself not to find Dorian and the young woman. Whoever she was, she was far too young, far too pretty, and far too obsessed with her husband.
Not that I should care – I don’t care! He can speak to who he likes.
Try as she might to stop herself, Penelope found her gaze wandering and soon she was watching her husband closely. A pang in her stomach when she noticed the young redhead, a hand rested on his arm, laughing at something that he said. In Dorian’s defense, he didn’t look as if he was encouraging it, but he didn’t look as if he was dismissing it either.
“Who cares,” Penelope said, turning up her nose and looking away. “Dorian can speak to who he wants.”
Albina frowned. “Penelope… I thought that… after yesterday, it looked as if the two of you were –”
“Whatever you think you saw, you were wrong,” Penelope said harshly.
“But Joseph said –”
“Nothing I care to hear,” she cut over her. Her cousin winced and Penelope’s expression softened. “I am sorry, Albina. I did not mean to…” She grimaced. “Dorian and I are… we are doing our best to present a united front for this weekend. But the reality is…” Her stomach twisted as she considered the truth of what she was about to say. “We were estranged for three years and there was a good reason for that.” She looked at her husband once more, the sickness inside of her growing. “And that isn’t going to change anytime soon.”
The words made perfect sense but that stung to hear, and Penelope did not want to believe them. Not like she should have done.
What she wanted was for Dorian to approach her finally, to apologize, to explain himself and give her some sense of hope in an otherwise hopeless world. But as she was avoiding him today, he was doing the same for her. And that, paired with his actions last night, told her enough.
It was not something she wanted to admit, but the evidence was stacking up against her and as the hours wore on and as her husband continued to avoid her and as he did nothing to avoid that persistent young redhead…
Dorian felt nothing for her. Likely, he never would. And wishing differently would not change that. Thus, all Penelope could do was get through this weekend without incident and once she did that, go home and never look back.
As to what she would do about having the child? She still wanted it, of that she was certain. But for a time there she had wondered what it might be like to have the child and raise it with a husband by her side. Now that she knew that would never happen, she felt more hollow than she had before.
Would a child solve her woes? She wanted to believe as much, but it was getting harder to keep that feeling. And that was perhaps the saddest thing of all.
“Oh, Your Grace, that is too funny.” Henrietta laughed a little too loudly and clung to Dorian’s arm as if her life depended on it. “I had no idea you were so witty.”
Dorian frowned at the young woman. “I do not mean to be.”
“It just comes naturally then,” she continued, laughing all the while.
“Yes, I…” He looked about them, searching for Lord Kenbrook. “Do you know where your father has gotten himself to?”
“No idea.”
“Perhaps we should find him.”
“There is no need,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes as she did. “I am quite capable of looking after myself. I am not a little girl, Your Grace.”
“I did not say that you were.”
“Good.” She squeezed his arm tightly. “Just so long as you know.”
What is this woman playing at! Well, I know the answer to that. But that does not solve the problem. In fact, it only makes it worse.
The day was coming to an end, and Dorian could not have looked more forward to the fact. Where he had done his duty as host and moved through the garden for the past few hours, sure to speak to every guest in attendance, he was finding it next to impossible to remove Miss Henrietta Wood from his side.
He could do so, of course, if needed. A rude word spoken and he was certain she would get the message. But he hoped it would not come to that, as he did not wish to upset her, for that would likely anger her father who Dorian did not want to find himself on the wrong side of. For obvious reasons.
Rather, he resigned himself to the very real fact that Henrietta was going nowhere. At best, he would do well to avoid her once the ball started tonight… and then for the rest of the weekend, if possible.
