Page 13 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
“You will thank me for this.” He crouched when he reached where she sat, wrapping his arms around her.
She pretended to wiggle free, while allowing the embrace. “On that, we will have to agree to disagree. But I appreciate the positivity.”
Dorian had known how this conversation would end, enough that he almost considered not wasting the time. Eight years of such things and by now he knew well enough who his sister wasand how she felt about such things as socializing, party-going, or even leaving the house. But he wouldn’t be her big brother if he didn’t at least try.
And try he was. His sister might have refused to re-enter society as he so wished her to do, but if she was given no choice, forced to be social because the party was being brought to her with nowhere to escape, perhaps that would make the difference.
I doubt it will. And she seems to know the same. But I must try. I feel that I owe her that much, at least.
“I suppose there’s no chance of me convincing you to cancel this party altogether, is there?” she asked as he pulled away.
“Not even a little.”
“Drat,” she said and clicked her tongue. “Even if the work it will take to organize such a thing might very well kill you?”
“Why do you think I was asking for your help?” he laughed.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, I am not the only woman in your life who you might reach out to….”
His expression fell flat, and he pushed himself back to his feet. “And that is my cue to leave. As you knew it would be. Which has me suspecting that you did so on purpose.”
“Am I that transparent?”
Dorian continued to smile as he shook his head to himself. His sister was right; this party he was planning was turning into a monumental affair, quickly spiraling out of control such that he wasn’t entirely certain of its success… or if hosting it in the first place was the brilliant idea he had once thought.
Again, he reminded himself that he wasn’t doing it for himself, but for her. She might have objected. She might have hated him for it. But it was for the best, needed like she would never admit. And for that reason alone he was committed.Even if it does end up killing me.
“I’ll see you at supper?” Dorian asked as he started across the room.
“It is not like I have anywhere else to go,” she called after him.
Dorian sighed at the comment as he stepped out of the room. It was a sigh that cut short the moment he was in the hall, for he came upon his Head of Staff, Reginald, who wore a look on his face that suggested the world was about to end.
“Reginald…” Dorian came to a stop before the butler. “Might I ask what the look is concerning? Surely not good news, if such a thing exists.”
“I was just coming to find you,” Reginald explained, sucking through his teeth as he did. “It is… most strange, Your Grace. But you have an unexpected guest.”
“I do?” Dorian frowned as he tried to remember the last time anyone had visited him here. Months, he was sure. Maybe even longer than that… “Who?”
“I do not know the reason, nor was it expected,” Reginald was sure to explain. “But she arrived just now, refusing to leave before having spoken to you.”
“She?”
“It is your wife, Your Grace,” he said. “The duchess.”
Dorian thought at first that Reginald was mistaken. Or perhaps that he was making fun.He must be that. Penelope would never… she has no reason to… this must be a mistake.
He left the butler standing there, striding quickly down the halls until he found himself at the top of the main staircase overlooking the entrance foyer. And once he did, his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as if they might burst because the woman standing in the foyer was undoubtedly his estranged wife.
Dorian thought to turn and leave before she saw him.
It was three years since the last time he lay eyes on Penelope, and even that was a memory he’d done well to forget. A marriage he did not want. A wife he had no desire to get to know – as she had no desires on him. An arraignment conceived for convenience and propriety but never meant to be more than that. And yet…
Penelope had her back to him, but her body became stiff suddenly and slowly she turned about to find him staring down at her.
She looked just as Dorian remembered. The same oval shaped face with soft features. The same large eyes, that tiny nose, the freckles that dusted her skin. Pretty, both elegant and refined, she was a beauty any way one looked at it. And even dressed in her travelling clothes, looking tired and a little worn, she seemed to glow as if the light itself was drawn to her. Yes, the same… while also different.
She has changed in these past three years. Not quite as reserved. Not nearly so unsure. More confident, she has grown into herself in ways that shouldn’t surprise me. Even if I should be wary of them.
