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How am I to get out of my wifely duties?Penelope thought over and over as Holden held up a couple of nightgowns, clearly meaning for her to choose which she wanted to wear to greet her new husband.
“Isn’t there anything … thicker?” Penelope asked, thinking quickly. Perhaps if she wore something thick enough or even unattractive enough, the duke might not feel any desire towards her, and she might be able to ward off his attentions until she could figure out how to leave with little fuss.
Holden looked at her with a raised eyebrow for only a moment. The expression was gone so quickly that Penelope almost thought she had imagined it. Yet she could imagine what the young lady’s maid was thinking;she must be nervous to be spending the night with a duke!Especially a duke such as Lord Chatham.
Even now, terrified as she was to meet him in the bedroom, Penelope couldn’t help thinking of just how romantically magical their nuptials had been. She had been quite lost in the moment, repeating Father Reddine's words as she found her gaze caught up in the duke’s.
His hand, which had held onto hers firmly, had steadied her in a way she had never experienced before. The look on his face had strengthened her, assuring her that all would be well, and even though she was well aware he had no idea of the truth, she couldn’t help feeling as though she knew him.
She felt she could see such kindness in his eyes, the likes of which would never allow him to treat her badly, even when he did know the truth.
“Thicker, My Lady?” Holden asked, her expression curious. “Would one of these not be suitable?”
Once more, the lady’s maid held up the two nightgowns, both cotton though one was plain and the other decorated with a frilly lace around the hems. Penelope didn’t even need to close her eyes to imagine what either of them would look like upon her.
She could already tell they would be far too thin, showing everything beneath and leaving little to the imagination.
“I … I find I am cold this evening,” Penelope insisted quickly, her entire body trembling with anxiety and anticipation as well as with her need to ensure that the lady’s maid even half believed her. In the hopes of giving the maid something to push her towards her side, she added, “I am sure that my husband will be able to warm me once he arrives, but perhaps for now, I might put a dressing gown on also?”
Yet silently, she prayed,please, lord, stay away tonight!
“Of course, My Lady.” Holden nodded and began to fold up the two chemises she had already picked out of the top drawer of the chest of drawers beside the wardrobe. Penelope watched, holding her breath as she waited for Holden to find exactly what she was looking for.
“Do … do you think that the duke will be gentle?” Penelope asked, unable to stop herself from raising the question before Holden had turned back with a silken dressing gown on its hanger, holding it up for her inspection. Penelope was certain with both that and her chemise she would be covered enough beneath the bedclothes to avoid the duke’s attention for a little while at least.
“I have had little to do with the duke myself, My Lady,” Holden stated carefully, almost as if she thought Penelope was trying to accuse her of something. Yet when she turned to Penelope, she was smiling with reassurance, “Though from what I have heard, the duke is a very good man, and he would not push you into anything that you are not ready for.”
I wasn’t ready for marriage, but here I am!Penelope thought, fighting the urge to scream the words aloud. Yet somehow, Holden’s words had eased her concern a little. She felt herself relaxing only a fraction as the lady’s maid helped her into the frilly chemise and dressing gown and then gestured her over to the bed to sit so she could help her roll on a fresh pair of stockings.
“I am sure that if you told him you were feeling very nervous, the duke might agree to postpone the wedding night, so to speak,” the lady’s maid continued reassuringly as if she could sense Penelope’s apprehension.
“I am sure he would too,” Penelope responded, thinking of how kind the duke had been to her so far, how he had assured her that all would be well right before their ceremony began and how he had made her truly believe that what they were going through was exactly as it was meant to be.
The duke had been by her side for most of the day, celebrating their marriage as if it were the grandest of ceremonies while somehow still managing to make her feel comfortable and in control. Yet now, she felt as though she couldn't be further from control.
Could this possibly be fate?she asked herself, not for the first time imagining what her mother might think if she could see her now. She could practically hear her now, asking,Oh, sweet Penny, what have you gone and got yourself into now?
It made Penelope's heart clench, and she tried her hardest to push all thoughts of her mother from her mind. Whether she could figure a way out of her wedding night or not, she didn't want to spend it thinking of just how ashamed her mother would be if she knew all she had done. Yet deep down, she knewshe would not blame me after all the St Clairs have put me through.
Penelope recalled all the pain and ridicule, the physical and mental abuse, and the Comte’s promise to be sure that they were together almost as soon as his sister-in-law and niece were shipped off to England. It didn’t bear thinking about and only served as a reminder of why she was even there in the first place.
After all she had been through, a foolish, perhaps even a childish part of her even dared to hope that all that had happened wasn't a mistake, that fate had indeed intervened, and she was walking down the very path meant for her all along.
Closing her eyes again, she thought about how attracted she truly was to the duke. It was no great secret that he was extraordinarily handsome; anyone with eyes could see that. Yet even when he was quiet and brooding, when he believed nobody was watching him, Penelope could see something in him that intrigued her, something she wished to know more about.
If he had been cruel and wicked like the Comte, she would have taken great pleasure in escaping just moments after he showed her to her room the night before.If he had been the Comte, I likely wouldn't have got the chance,Penelope thought with a dread-filled shiver, imagining how the Comte might have taken it upon himself to invite himself into her room upon returning her to it.
"My Lady, are you well?" Holden's concerned voice caused Penelope to jump out of her thoughts, and she glanced up to see the lady's maid gazing down at her with obvious anxiety. "Should I ask the duke to call for a doctor? You have gone terribly pale."
"No! No, Holden, I am well," Penelope assured her, suddenly realising that only one thing made her feel worse than imagining that the duke would come to her that night as the Comte might have tried to do after Lady Clara and Lady Cecily's departure. The only thought worse than the duke's joining her on their wedding night was the fear that perhaps he wouldn't show at all.
But that would be a good thing, wouldn't it?Penelope told herself firmly as she allowed Holden to brush out her long curls. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of someone looking after her for a change, and tried not to think of the fact that she was not the person who ought to be sitting there right now.
I wonder what Clara is doing this evening,she thought a little guiltily.Perhaps she has changed her mind about marrying the duke. Perhaps she will not come to England.Perhaps it was just wishful thinking or maybe even a premonition of what was to come; either way, Penelope quickly forced all thoughts of Clara from her mind.
Once Holden had braided her hair and stroked it down over one shoulder, she allowed the lady's maid to help her into bed. The coal warmer was removed discreetly, leaving Penelope's toes warm where it had been. Then the maid stepped back from the bed with a low curtsey and assured her, "The duke shall arrive soon. Do you need anything else before I depart?"
Penelope instinctively opened her mouth to offer some kind of protest, to give any instruction to keep the young girl there just a little while longer. Yet she had no instruction to give, so she pursed her lips, shaking her head.
