Page 3 of Snowed In with the Jilted Duke

“No, it’s no use,” Penny said. “We must follow the dowager duchess’s rules.”

Penny visibly shook off the pain as they crossed the threshold of the Green Salon arm-in-arm and beamed at the crowd that turned to watch as they entered behind Kendal and Mother. Only someone who knew Penny as well as Pippa did would see the effort behind her performance.

Seemingly from nowhere, Captain Lord Hugo Dalston, Oliver’s younger brother, appeared before them and bowed. “Good afternoon, Miss Penelope, Miss Philippa. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

Even as they murmured their responses, he offered his arm to Penny. “Come, I shall bring you to make your curtsy to Grandmama so you may be free to talk to the rest of the family.”

Penny scowled at him as he murmured something to her. She leaned on him after another moment’s hesitation, relieving Pippa of the burden of supporting her sister. “Thank you, H—Captain Dalston. We are much obliged.”

There was a touch of frost in her voice that did not surprise Pippa. Penny and Lord Hugo always seemed to be at odds whenever they encountered each other, with Hugo’s reserve bumping up against Penny’s exuberance.

Lord Hugo offered his other arm to Pippa, and she accepted it. As they neared the Bath chair from which the Dowager Duchess of Kendal held court, their mother made her curtsy and was dismissed by a small wave of the duchess’s hand to step to the side. Lord Hugo released them so Pippa and Penny could make their own curtsies side-by-side.

“Hmph,” the dowager said. “Still disguising yourself as a sparrow, Miss Philippa? One would think you could make an exception for your own sister’s wedding.”

Pippa felt her face grow hot under the old woman’s critical regard. Penny stirred next to her and took a half-step forward to draw the dowager’s attention to herself.

As always, Penny met the older woman’s eye fearlessly. “Good afternoon, your grace. I trust you are well.”

“I trust you are well, Miss Penelope. Well enough for marriage.”

Penny’s face flamed, but Pippa admired the steadiness of her voice as she replied, “We must all hope so, your grace, to keep the bailiffs from your door.”

“Penelope!” Mother gasped.

The duchess’s rheumy eyes glinted with appreciation. “Touché, my dear.” The dowager waved them away and Oliver stepped forward to take Penny’s arm and lead them a little ways away to sit down. It was only just in time, by Pippa’s estimation, for her sister leaned on him more than she usually would.

Lord Hugo was next as he bowed and kissed his grandmother’s cheek, but Pippa was more focused on Penny and Oliver as he seated her sister on a small sofa and then moved to stand behind her. Penny’s face was a little flushed as she looked towards the dowager and Lord Hugo. Pippa could only assume she was still irritated by the older woman’s sharp words to both of them. After a moment’s hesitation, Pippa went to stand with Oliver rather than sit down again. She told herself she was tired of sitting after the days of carriage travel.

Pitching her voice so Penny could join in the conversation if she pleased, she said, “She really is dreadful.”

Oliver looked at her, a small smile quirking his lips. “Grandmama? She does like both of you.”

“One would be hard-pressed to see it,” Pippa grumbled, and he laughed.

“She always twits the ones she likes best. I suppose it’s her best entertainment in her old age.”

Pippa glanced over as Lord Hugo approached, but Penny began a conversation with him instead, so she turned back to Oliver. He was looking at her quizzically, one side of his lips quirking upward.

“Do you know,” he said, “I believe this is the most we have spoken together in more than a year. Perhaps two.”

Pippa’s face flamed. Surely he could not know how assiduously she had been avoiding him since Penny had fallen ill. “Oh, is it?” she said with assumed carelessness. “I suppose there hasn’t been much occasion for us to speak.”

“I suppose not.”

“Miss Penelope!” The dowager’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation in the room and all eyes turned to Penny. “It is time for the refreshments to be served.”

Pippa winced in sympathy as Penny rose stiffly and limped over to the indicated chair next to the dowager. She seated herself and picked up the teapot.

“You see what I mean?” she hissed to Oliver.

He shrugged. “Penelope is the next duchess. She must act as the hostess.”

The reminder was like a blow to her stomach, and Pippa turned away, feeling nauseous for no reason. After all, that was why they were here—for Penny to finally marry Oliver as had been intended since they were all children. Once that happened, Oliver would be beyond Pippa’s reach forever. Even Penny’s death—heaven forfend!—would not change that since a man could not marry his late wife’s sister.

Envy choked her throat, the same envy she had tried to conquer since her first girlish infatuation with Oliver had formed so long ago. That infatuation had shattered and re-formed many times over the years until she had finally accepted it would always be with her.

Oliver Dalston, the Duke of Kendal, would always be the measure against which she judged all men, and she was resigned to knowing no man could ever be his equal.