Page 62 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
“It is,” she said with a firm nod. “Dorian and I, we cannot truly come together. We were never supposed to. And it really is that simple.”
“It almost never is. Penelope…” Albina turned fully, her eyes brimming with a sense of worry. “That day that we arrived, when you put me in my place, what I saw…” She smiled. “It was not a wife defending her husband’s honor, as you claim. Rather, it was a woman defending the man who she lo –”
“I do not love him.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you don’t. But it looked as if you wanted to. As if you thought you might. And His Grace, I saw the way he was looking at you that day also.”
Penelope felt her heart skip a beat. “And… and how was he looking at me?”
“I think you know.”
Penelope grimaced as she turned and found Dorian once more. He was smiling as he watched the pianist, blissfully unaware it seemed of what he was doing to her. Or maybe he just didn’t care?
“It matters not,” Penelope sighed, her heart sinking. “We have talked about it, and we have both realized that whatever our marriage is, it is not worth pursuing.”
“Oh, well then, if you have talked about it,” Albina scoffed. “Do you want my advice?”
“Not really, but I think you are going to give it, nonetheless.”
“If you truly were over him, you would not be back here with a look on your face that might suggest you have just learned your entire family was lost at sea. You would notcareas you so clearly do. But you are here, you do care, and that is enough for me to know that whatever you think might be in store for you and His Grace is not the answer that you want.”
“What difference does it make what I want?” Penelope said, feeling her chin wobble with sadness. “Dorian –”
“Is a man,” she cut over him. “Stubborn and stupid and he wouldn’t know happiness if it slapped him across the face. If you think there is a chance, Penelope, you need to make him see it. The last thing you want is to go home wondering…” She raised her eyebrow again. “Committed to a life alone because you were too scared to take a chance.”
Penelope winced as if Albina’s words were a knife; they were just as cutting.
She had taken a chance. She had put herself out there. She had gone to Dorian and tried to confess how she felt, and he had turned her away. That was the very reason all of this happened in the first place!
And yet…
Penelope could not help but think back to last evening, when he had tried to explain himself to her. He had done a terrible job because clearly even he did not know what he wanted. Which meant too that he didn’t know what he did not want.
She thought too of the kiss, the second time when he had tried to pull her into him. Was that not proof that he wanted her?
She remembered what Barbara told her about Nicholas Wood, the suggestion that his perception of marriage was changing, not to mention how he viewed his sister.
And her skin prickled when she closed her eyes and felt their kiss. She could still taste him on her lips. She could still feel his hand around her waist. Enough that two days later and her legs trembled at the memory.
Is it worth trying one more time? Better that I try and fail than spend the rest of my life not knowing. Surely, that is reason enough…
“I know that look,” Albina said with a sly smile.
“What look?” Penelope blushed furiously and looked away.
“Go to him.” She took her hand and squeezed it. “Tell me what you feel. Or barring that…” She flashed her eyes. “Showhim.”
“Show him?” Penelope leaned back. “What do you…” Her eyes widened when she understood the meaning. “Albina!”
“Just with a kiss,” Albina said with a wicked grin. “Why? What did you think I meant?” She winked coyly and turned back to watch the pianist.
Penelope did the same, even if she heard not a single note the young musician was playing. As before, her thoughts and attention were focused entirely on Dorian, only this time there was a sense of hope simmering beneath.
She was going to do it. One more chance. A final attempt to find the truth of his feelings for her… and her own for him, for that matter. It might lead to nothing, but it couldn’t make things any worse. And that was something to hold onto.
And just like that, the gaping emptiness that sat inside of Penelope for months felt… not quite so empty as it once had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
