Page 61 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
So why did he accept Barbara’s refusal of Nichola’s advances? Unless he believed that love was what should be sought. Unless he was starting to consider that marriage was more than a mere contractual obligation. And if so, did he think the same about their own marriage?
It was all very confusing—annoying, also because it threw into peril all that Penelope had believed. All that she had forced herself to believe.
Still, it was a relatively peaceful morning for Penelope, Barbara, and her sisters as they wandered the village and visited the various stores and stalls. Barbara was like a child being let out of the house for the first time, gushing and gasping, pulling Penelope this way and that, eager to see everything as if it was her first time. Which it might well be.
They might have stayed there all day too; Barbara sure seemed as if she wanted to do so. No longer scared and unsure, she was growing into herself with each passing minute.
But as the sun rose in the sky, Penelope reminded everyone that they needed to make their way back. She was sure to tell the other guests who she found in the village also, pointing them toward the estate because the next event of the weekend was set to begin.
“Can we come back another time?” Barbara asked as they started home.
“Of course we can,” Penelope assured her.
“After this weekend,” Barbara pressed her. “Once everyone leaves. That way, there will be no rush.”
Penelope’s insides squirmed with guilt. She had not told Barbara that she was set to return home the moment the weekend ended. Although now, with what she had learned of the duke, she wondered if she would.
There was nothing back home for her, a life she had lived for three years and knew would not change. But if there was a chance that Dorian’s mind was changing…
“Perhaps,” she offered Barbara. “But we still have a way to go until then.” She got the distinct feeling too that this weekend, only on its second day, was not done surprising her.
The party was located back in the garden, this time centered around a pianist who had come all the way from London. The piano was set in the garden’s center on a small stage that workers had spent the morning constructing, while a viewing area made of dozens of seats was set before it like a small theatre. There was also an awning stretching over the piano and the audience for shade, while waiters walked between the seats as they offered the guests food and drink.
Penelope stood at the back of the seating area, not willing to sit down because she was too filled with nervous energy.
She wanted to stay out of Dorian’s eyesight too, as he had taken a seat at the very front with Barbara; they were holding hands and Barbara appeared enraptured by the pianist. The rest of the guests were just as captivated, sitting in silence – broken by impressed whispers – as they took in the performance with obvious enjoyment.
“He certainly is something…” Slinking in beside Penelope was Albina; she wore on her face a knowing smirk.
“He is,” Penelope said. “Dorian was recommended him by a friend.”
“Oh…” Albina could not have looked more delighted. “I was not speaking of the pianist, Penelope.”
Penelope turned and glared a warning at her cousin, hoping that would be enough to silence her because she did not much feel like having this conversation. Then she turned back and focused on the pianist as if he was the most transcendent musician she had ever heard. In truth, she hadn’t heard so much as a note he’d played all day.
Her attention was on Dorian and there it was set to remain.
She watched him closely, eyes narrowed, frustration mounting because she did not want to be so fixated on him. Had she not told him last night that she was done? Had she not told herself as much too? Was she not prepared to leave here and never come back, certain it was the only decision to make?
Decisions made that had felt so right last night, that I had been so utterly certain of that I even managed to convince myself that I was happy. And now… now I don’t know what to think.
“I take it you don’t wish to speak of it then,” Albina said. She stood beside Penelope as if to watch the pianist at work.
“I do not.”
Albina chuckled softly. “You might want to stop your staring. It’s no wonder I don’t believe you.”
Penelope scowled at her. “What do you care, anyway? I thought you hated Dorian. The way you were speaking to him the other day…”
Albina shrugged. “I thought I was right to. Remember, at that point in time, as far as I knew, he was the husband who had abandoned you. One who I just assumed was still the center of your tempestuous anger.”
“I never hated him…”
“You were right to do so,” Albina continued. “Which is why I came in here ready to defend your honor. However, little did I realize how much had changed.” She turned her head slightly and raised a knowing eyebrow. “How muchyouhad changed, Penelope.”
She rolled her eyes and looked ahead. “Nothing has changed, Albina. What you saw was…” She clicked her tongue. “A moment of weakness. I was convinced that I needed to defend my husband’s honor, unaware that the man has none worth defending.”
“Is that right?” Albina laughed.
