Page 22 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Seven

The next morning at breakfast, the children were still talking about their adventure at the inn, gushing over the fun they’d all had milking Blythe the cow.

As was often the case with siblings, however, the harmony did not last, and before Frederick was finished with his first cup of coffee, the discussion had devolved into a full-fledged argument over whose efforts had yielded the most milk.

“You are such a liar, Willie,” Gretchen said, waving her fork at her brother from across the table. “I filled more than half the pail myself, and then Cathy took her turn, and then you took yours. You couldn’t have filled half the pail yourself. It is a mathematical impossibility.”

Hiding a smile behind the rim of his cup, Frederick looked at Penelope, who rolled her eyes with exasperated amusement.

“I did so fill half the pail!” Willie cried, his outrage audible, even with a mouthful of egg.

Gretchen snorted. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“Liar.”

“I am not a liar!” Willie shouted. “You’re the liar!” And then he lobbed a crust of bread at his sister’s head, missing by mere inches.

Gretchen gasped with great drama and raised her fork as if preparing to retaliate, but then Penelope shot to her feet, and a hush fell over the table.

“Gretchen, William,” she said firmly, “I want you both to apologize to your uncle for your appalling behavior, and then you will take your sister to the nursery, where you will remain until I decide you may leave.”

“Please, Mama, no!” Gretchen cried, but the warning look her mother gave her quickly put an end to her protests.

The two oldest children did as they were instructed, mumbling dejected apologies to Frederick before ushering poor Cathy, who had done nothing wrong, from the breakfast room for the confines of their temporary prison.

“Well,” Frederick said once they were gone, “this has certainly been a lively breakfast so far.”

Penelope dropped onto her chair, wearily brushing a strand of dark hair from her forehead. “Heavens above, those two can argue about anything. My apologies, Freddy. My children are usually better-behaved than that.”

Frederick smiled. “It was like sharing a table with you and Robert when we were young. You two couldn’t make it through a single meal without bickering over something or other.”

“Only because Robert insisted he was right even when he knew he was wrong.”

Frederick nodded. “He always was a know-all.”

“He still is,” Penelope harrumphed, though her eyes held a glint of fondness.

Frederick knew exactly how she felt. Robert had always been proper and responsible, an honorable man who never seemed to make a false step, and while this could sometimes cast him in a sanctimonious light, he did mean well. And he was usually right, not that Frederick would ever admit it to him.

“Thank goodness for George and his peacekeeping skills,” Penelope said, her gaze fixed on the cup of tea in her hands. “Without them, I probably would have murdered Robert.”

Frederick laughed. “Probably?”

“All right, definitely.” And then she was laughing, too.

For the next several minutes, the two siblings reminisced about their growing-up years and then, after finishing off the last of his coffee, Frederick said, “Thank you for another superior breakfast, Pen.”

He pushed his chair back and rose. “Now, if you have no objections, I think I’ll take a stroll through this charming little village of yours and perhaps visit the tavern for a mug of local ale.”

He felt guilty about lying to his favorite sister, but he’d given this arrangement with Lily a great deal of thought and he’d decided it would be best if Penelope didn’t know about it. Even though his intentions were pure—well, mostly pure—he knew his sister wouldn’t want him around her friend, no matter the reason, and it would simply be better for everyone if she was kept in the dark.

“Of course I have no objections,” Penelope said with a smile. “And if you do stop in at the tavern, you might consider ordering a mug of Mr. MacGregor’s brown ale. It was always William’s favorite.”

“I’ll do that,” Frederick said, feeling like an absolute rat as he pushed his chair in. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” She spooned orange marmalade onto a slice of bread and then met his gaze. “You can make me a promise that you will stay out of trouble today.”