Chapter 15

"Oh, I am so dreadfully nervous," Penelope admitted, as she stood before the ornate dressing table in her chamber, her heart aflutter with anticipation for the ball ahead. Beside her, Charlotte bustled about with practiced ease, attending to every detail of Penelope's attire.

"Why, Your Grace?" Charlotte seemed truly surprised. She even stopped adjusting Penelope's hair to ask that question. "You look absolutely radiant."

"It has nothing to do with the way I look, dear Lottie," Penelope admitted. "Although, I must say, you have outdone yourself."

Penelope was a vision of elegance in her gown, the fabric a cascade of shimmering silk in the softest shade of lavender. Delicate lace adorned the bodice, accentuating her slender figure, while intricate embroidery traced dainty patterns along the hem, catching the light in a mesmerizing dance.

With a deft touch, Charlotte finished adjusting Penelope's hair, her fingers moving with precision as she ensured that every curl framed her mistress' face perfectly. Still, Penelope couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves deep in her stomach. She glanced at her reflection in the looking glass, her gaze betraying the apprehension that lingered beneath her composed exterior. Charlotte sensed it immediately.

"It is only natural to feel a bit anxious, Your Grace," Charlotte spoke wisely and calmly, her tone gentle and reassuring. "But you have nothing to fear. You will be the belle of the ball, dazzling everyone with your grace and charm."

Penelope offered a faint smile, grateful for Charlotte's comforting words. "Thank you, Lottie. I just… I would have preferred staying at home. I'm not much for balls and big occasions where all eyes are on me."

She knew that everyone would be watching them as her sudden marriage to the duke was already sparking whispers. A sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach as she imagined the scrutinizing gazes, and the whispered speculations about their whirlwind romance. Penelope had always valued her privacy, and the thought of being thrust into the spotlight made her heart race with apprehension. She would have much preferred to stay home with her husband and get to know him better. Perhaps even work on that pocket watch together.

The thought made her smile. He had that uncanny ability of making her smile when that was the last thing she wanted to do. There was so much to him, that depth of character drew her in more and more, and she knew that she had just scratched the surface of who he truly was.

"If you don't mind me saying, Your Grace, but all eyes will be on you whether you would like them to be or not," Charlotte spoke in that matter-of-factly tone that was so her. "The duke is a very handsome man, but your beauty shines beyond description exactly because you are not like the other ladies of the ton, relishing the attention, but rather, you shy away from it."

"If the nunnery taught me anything, it was to be quiet and obedient," Penelope chuckled. "But I'm afraid I stray even from that."

"A nunnery?" Charlotte gasped. "You? That cannot be."

"It can, my dear Lottie," Penelope continued to laugh at her friend's shock. For that was what Charlotte was slowly becoming—not just a lady's maid, but a friend.

"How on earth does one end up there?" Charlotte asked then she bit her tongue, realizing that she might have crossed the line. "Oh, I am sorry, Your Grace, I didn't mean it like that."

Penelope turned to her, taking her by the hand. "I never want you to apologize for speaking your mind, Lottie. I expect you to do that with me. I want to know I can rely on your honest opinion, always. Even in situations where I might not like it."

Charlotte smiled. "I don't think anyone has ever told me that before."

"Well," Penelope replied, "I am glad to be the first one, then."

With a deep breath, she straightened her posture, drawing upon her inner strength as she prepared to face the challenges of the evening ahead. Though the prospect of being the center of attention still weighed heavily on her mind, she knew that she would be by her husband's side, no matter what.

"Are you ready, Your Grace?" Charlotte asked.

"I suppose I am as ready as I'll ever be," Penelope agreed, inhaling deeply.

"The duke is waiting for you in the parlor," Charlotte reminded her.

"Well then, I'd better not keep him waiting," Penelope said, embracing Charlotte, grabbing her reticule, then proceeding to walk down the stairs towards the parlor.

As Penelope stepped into the parlor, her heart fluttered nervously within her chest, the weight of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Her gaze swept across the room until it found James, who stood waiting for her with an air of quiet intensity. As their eyes met, Penelope felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks, her pulse quickening at the sight of him. James' gaze traveled over her, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and admiration, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

In that fleeting moment, Penelope felt as though she were the only woman in the world, her every flaw and imperfection invisible beneath James' gaze. She felt a surge of confidence swell within her, buoyed by the intensity of his regard.

"You look… breathtaking," he said, obviously unable to come up with the right word to convey his true thoughts.

With a smile that spoke volumes, James extended his hand to her, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. As she placed her hand in his, she felt a sense of completeness wash over her. She felt as if no evil eye of the ton would be able to reach her that evening.

"Thank you," she replied. "You don't look bad yourself, Your Grace."

He laughed. "I like it when you address me like that."

"So… officially?" she teased, as they stepped out into the evening together.

"Yes," he murmured close to her ear. "It does something to me."

"What?" she asked innocently, but she could venture a pretty good guess.

"Perhaps I might tell you all about it when we come back from the ball," he replied playfully.

"Oh, a serious conversation… Your Grace," she commented with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I look forward to it."

"But first, we dance the night away," he told her, helping her up into the carriage, making her forget all about her doubts and fears. He was by her side, and she felt safer than ever before.

Just then, she realized that James' grandfather was already in the carriage and had fallen asleep waiting for them.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as soon as she and James stepped inside, and Penelope was equally shocked to see him there.

"It was worth the wait, my dear." Grandfather adjusted himself in his seat, making room for them both.

"Oh, I'm so sorry that you were waiting," Penelope apologized, taking a seat.

"We both were," James corrected her. "But as Grandfather said, it was worth the wait."

With one wink and a tap on the ceiling of the carriage, their journey had started, and Penelope wondered what the evening would bring.

* * *

As they stepped into the grand ballroom, Penelope could feel the weight of everyone's stare, their curious gazes lingering upon her like a tangible presence. Her heart fluttered nervously within her chest as she became acutely aware of the attention focused squarely upon them. The grandeur of the ball only seemed to amplify her insecurities, magnifying every self-conscious thought until she felt as though she might crumble beneath the weight of it all.

But then, as if sensing her unease, James' hand tightened around hers, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of her uncertainty. She turned to him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet reassurance that washed over her like a wave of calm.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves.

"No, not really," she admitted, seeing no reason to pretend otherwise.

She glanced over at the crowd where James' grandfather had already found his friends and joined them for what appeared to be amusing banter, led mostly by him. Penelope admired him for being so open and easy-going. For someone like herself, a wallflower, that was incomprehensible.

"You are not alone," James told her tenderly, his voice bringing her back to the present moment. "I am here with you."

Penelope felt a surge of gratitude wash over her at his words, her fears melting away in the warmth of his embrace. With James by her side, she felt as though she could face anything, the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders as she surrendered to the comfort of his presence.

"Ah, Your Grace!" someone in the crowd shouted, and a couple approached them.

The woman was a grand dame, adorned in jewels and finery, her presence commanding attention, and her husband was a distinguished gentleman with a curious glint in his eyes. The lady swept forward with an air of grandeur, her voluminous skirts swishing around her as she extended a bejeweled hand in greeting.

"Ah, my dears, welcome!" she exclaimed with a warm, melodious voice that belied her imposing stature. "We were all wondering if you would attend our humble ball."

"Lord and Lady Ravenscroft, it is always a pleasure," James bowed. Penelope knew that now, it would be his turn to introduce her as his wife, but he didn't get the chance to do so because the host interrupted him.

"And who might this charming young lady be?" Lord Ravenscroft inquired, his tone polite but inquisitive. "Is this your wife, Your Grace?"

"Yes," James nodded, still holding Penelope by the hand. "This is my lovely wife, Penelope Chapman, the Duchess of Huntington."

"Oh, my, my, my! She is utterly ravishing! Beyond words!" Lady Ravenscroft gushed over Penelope, who thought this was all a little too much, but it seemed that it was simply how Lady Ravenscroft reacted to most everything in life: theatrically and overly done.

"Yes, indeed," her husband immediately agreed.

Penelope smiled. "Thank you both. You are so kind for inviting us to your lovely event."

"It would not be much of an event without such esteemed guests, my dear," Lord Ravenscroft commented, then he exchanged a knowing glance with his wife, their smiles widening.

"How lovely it is to be newlyweds," Lady Ravenscroft gushed, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "We must make sure to show you both a splendid time tonight!"

"Oh, we are fine just watching from the sidelines," James assured them.

"Nonsense!" Lord Ravenscroft waved his hand. "It is imperative that you return home this evening with a good impression."

"That is already done," Penelope assured them.

At that moment, someone called out to them, and Lady Ravenscroft pressed her hand gently on Penelope's shoulder. "Do excuse us, dears, but being hosts comes with many responsibilities. We shall join you a bit later."

"By all means," James bowed as they watched them disappear in the crowd of people.

Penelope exhaled deeply, instinctively moving closer to James.

"They are a bit too much, I know," James whispered into her ear. "Let's hope the worst has passed."

"It was fine," she assured him, gently squeezing his hand.

"You know, there is a way to hide from everyone in plain sight," he said mysteriously. "Everyone will see us, but no one will be able to talk to us. It isn't allowed."

"Really?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "How is that possible?"

"Easy," he said with a smile. "Just dance with me."

"Oh!" she laughed. "How clever!"

"Would you like to?" he asked more tenderly, gazing sweetly into her eyes.

"Yes," she nodded, blushing a little under his gaze.