III
PENELOPE stared at the earl galloping away in amusement. No man had ever resisted her flirtations before—no man except Hawthorne. He'd looked genuinely disgusted by her advances. She released a laugh as she started up the walkway to the castle. That would teach him never to visit that lake again. Geraldine, her personal servant, shook her head in admonishment once Penelope entered her chambers.
"You've gone swimming again, ma'am?"
Penelope began to remove her soaking skirts. "How did you guess?"
"You're wet to the bone!" She removed Penelope's chemise. "You promised not to do this again."
"I have no memories of making such a promise."
Geraldine sighed loudly. "I have half a mind to tell your mother about this behavior."
"You wouldn't dare."
Geraldine regarded her mistress with pinched eyes. "And why not? Don't think I'm afraid of being let go on your account, ma'am. I used to change your nappies."
"I wouldn't ever presume to have the power to see you gone," Penelope said sweetly. "I'm only trying to protect you from my mother's temper. Imagine how angry she'll be knowing you knew about this habit all these years and you didn't mention it."
"Hmph. As if I don't know a thing or two about the countess' temper," Geraldine muttered. Someone, presumably the butler, knocked on Penelope's door.
"What is it?" Penelope asked.
"The Duke of Burberry is here to see you."
My week is up, Penelope thought. The duke had given her the ring a week ago without taking an answer to his proposal. He promised to come back in exactly a week to hear her answer. "Tell him I'll be in the drawing room in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes," Geraldine sighed. "You overestimate my abilities." Geraldine was quick with dresses and hair, exceptionally quick, and Penelope mussed coils and wrinkled clothes were corrected within the ninth minute. When she entered the drawing room, the duke was staring at the breakfast table. She wondered why until she approached the table herself and silently kicked herself. She'd forgotten to put the ring in its box.
"Your Grace," she greeted.
He turned to her with a pained smile. "What happened to 'Solomon?'"
Penelope lowered her eyes to the ground before lifting them to meet his again. "It's nice to see you, Solomon."
"You began this visit with formalities and I see you're not wearing your ring. I gather that you want to decline."
So, he was beating her to the punch. "You'll meet an amazing woman one day, but that woman is not me."
"I've already met the most amazing woman in the world. I don't mean to let her go."
"You'll find another."
The duke seated himself at the table and looked up at his intended. "I'll give you three hundred thousand pounds. You can forget about your dowry."
Penelope felt herself getting dizzy. This man couldn't be serious.
"If bothersome mamas are a concern, you needn't worry. The dowager duchess can be a trifle meddlesome, but my main estate is a days' journey from her's. She won't frequent our house more than once a month. And though I have a great deal of respect and love for my mother, I shall take first the counsel of my wife," Solomon continued. He briefly paused to let his words sink. "And don't fret over the responsibility of birthing a big brood—our family can be as little or as big as you like. You don't have to worry about making male heirs either; I'm a modern man. If we aren't blessed with boys, I'll gladly bequeath the dukedom of Burberry to our daughter."
"Solomon.." she started but he put a hand in the air.
"Just let me finish, please." Penelope reluctantly closed her mouth. "I know you're a free spirit, and I have no plans to trap you. I just want to share my life with you. Will you let me?"
Money. Stability. Independence. He offered her everything a woman could want in a marriage, including a lift in social rank. If only she wanted a husband. If only she wanted a family. "I'm afraid I must say no. I'm so sorry, Solomon."
He gave her a soft smile. "Could I trouble you for some tea?" Penelope sat across from him and rang for tea and sandwiches. The duke ate rather slowly, as if he actually wanted to prolong his stay. Penelope hoped that wasn't the case. It was rather irritating when they didn't take her rejection with grace. "I'd like us to stay friends."
"I've enjoyed your company these past few weeks. I'd like nothing more than to keep your confidence."
"As have I." He gave her a deep look as he dragged his finger across the length of his plate. "In the spirit of friendship, I must plead that you answer this question with complete sincerity."
"Of course."
"Does she know?"
"Does who know?"
"Does your mother know you'll never get married"
Penelope nearly spat out her tea. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Solomon took a slow bite of another sandwich. "That was worded poorly. I meant that, does your mother know you never want to get married?"
"Of course I want to get married someday!" Penelope exclaimed. "You're letting your hurt ego replace good sense, Your Grace."
"I've known you ever since you were eighteen, Penelope. I know how you are and how you think. And after these past few intimate weeks and my most recent rejection, I know spinsterhood is your goal."
How on earth had he figured her out? "You couldn't be farther from the truth."
"I think I'm the closest to the truth anyone has ever been."
"Nonsense." The words tumbled out in a weak sputter that even Penelope had trouble believing.
"The Countess of Au Printemps is a shrewd woman, so I have trouble believing she has no idea. But then again, it's possible. After all, it's those closest to us that we have trouble seeing. Besides, I find it even harder to believe that your mother would allow you to carry on with this goal if she knew the truth."
"I'm sorry if my rejection pains you, Your Grace. But, I am waiting until I fall in love to marry. I do not love you," Penelope said sharply.
The Duke of Burberry produced a light chuckle. "Goodness. Is that what you tell her too? How does she believe it when it's plain to everyone that you're the opposite of an insipid romantic?"
"You don't have to be a romantic to want a marriage founded on love!"
"I know. That's why I said insipid as well."
Penelope glared at him. "I think it's time you take your leave."
Solomon gave her a careful once over before standing up. "I suppose so. Both of my questions have been answered. No, to my offer of marriage and no to my question about your mother's knowledge regarding your marriage plans."
Penelope felt a slight needle of fear prick her skin. "I trust you won't be approaching my mother with these fantastic claims about my intentions for marriage."
"In the spirit of friendship, I plan to keep that knowledge to myself," Solomon said. He lifted his host's hand and gently kissed it. "Goodbye, Penelope."
Penelope didn't answer. She only rang for the butler who silently escorted him out. She was slightly perturbed by his accusations for the rest of the day. No one had ever found the real reason behind her rejected marriage proposals. Jealous peers attributed them to pride and conceit. Many gossiped that she'd had her heart broken as a young girl and refused to marry because of it. Others believed what she told those that would ask: she was waiting for love. It was only the duke that had guessed right and it was unnerving. Solomon was a man of his word, so she trusted him to keep his mouth shut. Still, the matter required some concern. If he figured it out, how long before others did? How long before her mother did?
The thought still needled her through the evening, even as she took dinner with her mother.
"I hear the duke called today," the countess said.
Penelope stabbed a piece of veal with uncharacteristic force. "He did."
"And I gather that he went back with his beautiful ring."
Penelope just then remembered that the velvet box that had contained the gift sat in her room. She'd have to send a servant to give it to him. Hopefully he hadn't yet left Milford. "He did."
"Hm." The countess took a sip of wine. "You know, I received a letter from the dowager duchess a couple weeks ago."
"When we started our courtship?"
"No, before actually. She wrote to me telling me about how her son was visiting Milford and she believed I should encourage the two of you to court. She believed you would make a good wife. But, Violet also said something very interesting."
Penelope poked at her peas and carrots. "Oh?"
"She said that I shouldn't let my daughter's aversion to marriage prevent a happy union. I wrote back saying my daughter was only averse to a marriage without love, and if her son and you happened to fall in love, then that was that. But she wrote saying she thought your discarded proposals had nothing to do with love. She thought you were just avoiding the institution altogether."
Penelope nearly choked on her food. "Nonsense."
"I thought the same thing. How could that woman know my own daughter better than me? But I must admit, the thought has been nagging me for weeks. So, when the duke called I did something I never thought I would do—I had a maid listen in."
Penelope abandoned all attempts at eating. "Mother!"
"He offered you the moon and the sun, Penelope, and you refused. Maybe his mother planted the idea of your aversion to marriage in his head or maybe he figured it out on his own... But the more I think the more it holds true." The countess held eyes with her daughter. "You really are the opposite of an insipid romantic."
"I won't marry if I'm not in love," she said weakly.
"But do you really believe you'll find love? Or is that statement some private joke known only to you?" Penelope stayed silent and the countess shook her head. "I've given you everything, Pen. I loved your grandmother, God bless her, but I vowed that I would never be as heavy-handed with you as she was with me. So, I gave you all the freedom in the world. Most mothers value chastity in their daughters above all else, but I always found it unfair that men were able to sow their oats and women were not. So, when you decided to start exploring, I made sure you had a servant that could educate you properly and vowed that if there was ever a baby, a wedding would soon follow. I let you participate in the same studies as your male peers. And as far as material things, you've always lacked for nothing. In other words, I spoiled you."
"I appreciate everything you've given me."
"That is part of the problem. You're content to spend the rest of your life as my daughter, partaking in all the spoils of the world without consequence. Well, my daughter, for the first time in our lives, I must put my foot down."
A cold sweat formed on Penelope's nape. "You can't mean for me to want to marry soon, right?"
"A week from today, the Duke of Burberry is going to return with that very pretty ring. And when he does, you're going to tell him you've changed your mind."
Penelope's mouth was dry with dread. "I will not."
"You will. If not, my financial support ends completely. And, you'll have a month to find other living arrangements."
"You cannot do this to me! It's not fair!"
"You're incredibly well-educated, '' the countess continued, "so you should have no trouble finding a post as a governess or lady's companion. Though I can't imagine those posts are any better than being a duchess."
Frustrated tears sprang to Penelope's eyes. "You wouldn't do this. You wouldn't make me marry a man I do not want."
The countess' hard set face softened. "It is for your own good, Penelope. Years from now, you will thank me."
"I will never thank you. You're being abdominally cruel."
"I've researched him, Pen. I'd never rely solely on word of his mother, but upon scouring Burberry and taking information from friends, acquaintances, and old paramours I've found her word holds true: he's a good man. He's promised to give you the independence and stability you deserve. With time, I know you will come to love him. Plus, he's a man of elevated social rank with untold wealth. I don't think it will get any better than this. And while I could tell you to choose your next proposal, or the one following that, I think we shall both regret it if you don't choose him."
"You. You shall regret it if I don't choose him. I don't want him."
"I only want you to be happy."
"I'm already happy!"
"Happy and settled with a husband and children of your own." The countess smiled sadly. "You can't be my spoiled daughter forever."
🌑
Penelope cried herself to sleep that night. She was at a loss for what to do. Penelope knew her mother's 'yes' and her 'no' that meant 'yes' and her 'no' that meant 'maybe' which eventually was 'yes'. But she knew when her mother really meant what she said, and this night, her mother had meant every word. She shouldn't be so surprised at her mother's reaction to her dedication to spinsterhood. Every mother, no matter their leniency, always wanted to see her daughter wed. She cursed the Dowager Duchess of Burberry to the hottest flames of hell. If it weren't for her, she could've rejected her son in peace. Now, she might actually have to marry him. Penelope retched at the thought of marriage. What other choice did she have? A governess to brats was out of the question and being a duchess was comparatively better than being a lady's companion.
It looked as if she had no choice.
Penelope refused to break her fast as usual with her mother the next morning. Geraldine brought a tray of her favorites anyway. Penelope looked at the tray in contempt. "I'm not hungry," she said sullenly.
"You should eat, ma'am."
"Is that another command of my mother's?"
Geraldine sighed. "You really shouldn't be so hard on her, dear. She's doing this for you."
"No, she's doing it for her. If she were doing anything for me, it wouldn't involve forcing my hand."
"There are many women who would kill to have your place."
"I would gladly give it away."
Geraldine set the tray down with force. "There are many young women who were forced into marriages at sixteen or younger."
"My mother deserves no praise for waiting a couple years to do what many odious parents do as well."
Geraldine scowled at her mistress. "There is a choice, you know. You can work for your wage."
Penelope opened her mouth to issue a sharp retort before closing it. She still had a choice. She rose from her bed in a sweeping motion. "Give me that green dress."
Geraldine wriggled her nose. "The one you said makes you look like a governess?"
"Yes, that one."
Penelope donned the eyesore and called for a coach as soon as she could. The driver winced when she told him the destination but he knew better than to contradict his mistress. Penelope couldn't help but marvel at her surroundings once they'd reached Hawthorne Castle. It was nothing like Fleurs. It was almost...domineering. No wonder people called it the Underworld. She entered the castle with prim confidence. The butler greeted her with a quizzical eye.
"I'm here about the job post," Penelope told him.
The butler only regarded her with skepticism before going to fetch his master. Lord Hawthorne entered the drawing room in a few minutes and glowered once he saw his guest.
"You." He shook his head.
"I'm the first applicant you've seen in weeks. You should be happy."
He pointed a threatening finger at her. "I know you're not used to getting your way, especially with men, but I don't care. You can't just waltz into my home pretending to apply for a job just so you can see me."
Penelope's eyes widened. "Why I—"
"Get out."
"I'm serious about the job, Lord Hawthorne."
He shook his head. "Why would a countess' daughter want to be a housekeeper?"
"Because the countess is forcing me to marry. If I don't marry, I'm cut off."
Hawthorne gave a short bark of laughter. "So, you'd rather be a housekeeper than be married?"
"If I show my mother I'll work four weeks as a housekeeper in the Underworld, she'll put this whole be-married-or-else business to bed."
"And what do I get out of having you as a housekeeper? Seeing that you've never ran a house, kept a ledger, or picked up a broom?
"After my employment here is complete, I'm sure you'll have no trouble employing a suitable replacement. If the 'beauty of Milford' can work at the Underworld unscathed—while even boasting of her employer's kindness—then it must be a perfect place to work." Penelope grinned at him. Lord Hawthorne returned the favor. "It's a mutually beneficial offer."
"I see that."
"So, why don't we draw up my contract?" Penelope asked brightly. "There are a few things I'd like to revisit. My wage, for instance."
Hawthorne smiled coldly. "There will be no contract."
Penelope lost her smile. "Excuse me?"
"There will be no contract," he repeated. "You've caught me between a rock and a hard place. The rock is having to do business with a spoiled lady who's really stupid enough to choose working a wage over getting married. The hard place is scouring Milford for a housekeeper and praying an applicant turns up. I choose the hard place." Hawthorne rang for his butler, who entered the drawing room in seconds. He looked down at Penelope with cold satisfaction. "You can go."