Chapter Twenty-Four

L ondon was as busy, noisy, and crowded as Penelope remembered, and as usual, she shuddered at the thought of living there. Only the brevity of her stay made it tolerable – and her mission.

First, she needed to find the Duke’s sisters. Secondly, she needed to persuade them to help her win back their brother.

She only hoped they knew him better than he seemed to know them, for he had dismissed them many times as silly girls. But they were her only hope in discovering a way to make her future husband forgive her.

She waited until her parents were out of earshot to make discreet enquiries with their London butler, Soames.

"I wish to find the aunt of the Duke of Dunloch," she told him, thinking that was the best place to start to find the sisters. She was sure he had said at least one of them was staying with her. "Could you find out where she lives?"

Soames was as efficient as ever, and after a day spent shopping for clothing for her trousseau, Penelope returned to the London townhouse to find him ready with the information she required.

Thankfully, the house was not far, and she could easily pay a call and only need to take her maid to chaperone her on the busy streets of London.

She only hoped that the Duke's sisters would have an idea of how she could win him back.

She woke early the next morning, excited and nervous about her mission. At home, she would have used such time to wander the grounds, enjoying the fresh morning air and the dew-dropped grass.

But in London, she could not wander so freely. She found it hard to wait for an acceptable hour for house calls, and when it came, her mother looked surprised to see her putting on her cloak.

"It's not like you to go visiting, Penelope," she commented. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

Penelope shook her head. She certainly did not want her mother with her, for she would be far too interested in what Penelope had to say to the Duke's sisters, and so much of it was information she did not want to share.

As far as her parents knew, there was nothing amiss between her and the Duke's betrothal, and she would like to keep it that way – for she hoped, very soon, that would truly be the case.

"No, thank you, Mother," she answered, pulling on her gloves. "I am calling on the Duke's aunt and his sister, since I am in town. I think it better I make their acquaintance alone, this first time…"

Her mother nodded. "Very well. I must say, Penelope, you are rising to the challenge of being the wife of a duke very admirably. I am very impressed with your dedication to making the right impression."

Penelope's smile was a strained one. Her mother certainly would not be proud of her if she knew what a poor impression she had in fact left on the Duke. Nor would she be pleased at Penelope's deception – both towards the Duke and towards her own mother. She only hoped that, unlike the Duke, her mother never learned that she had been lied to.

Once this was all resolved, Penelope vowed she would endeavour to tell the truth in all situations and think more carefully before concocting any schemes.

"Thank you, Mother. I shan't be long, and I'm taking Mary with me."

They walked the short distance to Lady Fitzgerald's home. Penelope only hoped that she would be received by the lady and the Duke's sisters. Did they know of their brother's betrothal? She didn't even know their names and was sure this would be a rather embarrassing visit. But she didn't care. She was desperate. She would do anything she could to avoid entering into a marriage with the Duke while he still despised her.

The door was answered by an elderly butler, and Penelope held herself tall, hoping that pretended confidence would lead to her truly feeling so.

"Lady Penelope Strachan, here to see Lady Fitzgerald."

The butler bowed and motioned for them to come in. The maid Penelope had brought along, Mary, stood quietly to one side, seemingly in awe of the large house. The girl had only recently come to London and entered service, and Penelope often noticed her amazement at her surroundings. She wondered what the girl would make of a place like Amblewood, which was not only much larger but had so much more space to enjoy.

"One moment, please, my lady," the butler said, leaving them in the hallway and disappearing down the corridor. When he returned, he gestured in the direction he had come from.

"Lady Fitzgerald is just this way, my lady. And perhaps your maid would care for some refreshment downstairs?"

"That's very kind, thank you," Penelope said, trying to remember exactly what she had planned to say as the butler showed her to a small parlour at the end of the house.

There were two ladies within, one older and one younger, and Penelope dearly hoped that the younger was one of the Duke's sisters. For really, they were who she wished to see – and the ones in whom she was willing to confide the troubles she was having.

"Lady Penelope," Lady Fitzgerald said, smiling kindly at her. She had tightly pinned curls, all grey, and she was a rather small woman, dwarfed by the great chair in which she sat. "Forgive me, but I cannot recall our acquaintance…"

Penelope gave an apologetic smile. "No, I'm afraid it is you who must forgive me. We have no prior acquaintance – but I'm in town and wanted very dearly to meet my betrothed's family."

The old lady's eyebrows knitted together. "Indeed. And whom, may I ask, is your betrothed?"

"The Duke of Dunloch," she said, the words sounding strange on her lips even now.

"James is to wed?" an excitable voice in the corner said, and Penelope turned and smiled at the tall, slender girl who had abandoned her sewing and seemed deeply interested in what Penelope had to say.

Lady Fitzgerald tutted. "Please excuse my niece. She is still learning the polite ways of society, so many years stuck up in Scotland…"

"My apologies, Aunt, Lady Penelope. But this news is so shocking…"

"I did not know if he would have written," Penelope said, wondering yet again if she had made a terrible mistake. His family was clearly completely unaware of who she was, and now that she had told them, she worried that she was not supposed to. Perhaps, for some reason, the news was meant to be kept quiet. Not that it could be for long… They were to be wed before the year was out.

"It is rather a recent development," she said, feeling awkward standing while the others were sitting. But she had not yet been invited to sit…

"Indeed. We are both rather shocked, as we did not envisage the Duke marrying without much persuasion. Not to say that there is a reason why he should not marry, and of course we are both thrilled to hear the news."

"Yes, congratulations. It is wonderful news, of course."

"I'm glad you think so," she said, her confidence returning a little. "The first banns have already been read, but I did not wish to miss out on the opportunity of visiting you while I was in London."

"James isn't here, is he?" the younger woman asked, looking rather shocked.

"No, I came with my parents to purchase some items before the wedding. He–" she couldn't quite bring herself to refer to him as James, even though his sister did so freely "–is still in Scotland."

"Of course he is. That man loathes leaving Scotland, for any reason."

"Lady Penelope, allow me to present my niece, Lady Cecily. And Cecily, dear, perhaps think about what is appropriate to say to someone you have only just met."

"Yes, Aunt," Cecily said, her voice full of contrition – but when Penelope caught her eye, there was a gleam in it.

"I am afraid her sister, Lady Antonia, is currently in her art lesson, and Lady Francesca is attending Miss Molineux’s finishing school on the other side of the city, so she is not in residence here."

"Well, it is a pleasure to make both your acquaintances," Penelope said, hoping this solitary sister would have an idea of what she could do to fix this mess.

"Perhaps we could promenade while the weather is fine, Lady Penelope," Lady Cecily suggested, putting her embroidery to one side. "If you do not mind, Aunt. It would just be nice to become acquainted with the woman who will be my sister."

Penelope couldn't believe the opportunity that had been dropped into her lap. She had been racking her brains trying to think of a way to get Cecily alone, and here she was suggesting it all by herself.

"You go ahead, but make sure you come back in time for tea. I would like to speak to Lady Penelope, too."

And that was how she found herself walking through St James's Park with the pretty younger sister of the Duke of Dunloch, confessing to her that it had not been only a desire to meet her future family that had prompted her to call on Lady Fitzgerald that morning.

When she got to the end of her tale, feeling relief at being honest, Cecily stopped and frowned.

"Goodness. James is a stickler for the rules, and he hates being kept in the dark about anything," she said. "I’m not surprised that he was angry – but I am surprised that he broke the rules in the first place, and let you stay." She looked her up and down. "There must be something special about you…"

She said it as though it was not something she herself could see, and Penelope blushed at being so appraised. She had wondered, to herself, whether there was a reason the Duke had allowed her to stay for five days, and not insisted she go elsewhere. Did he feel something towards her? Something which she had then destroyed with her silly plan?

"We are betrothed. The banns have already been read once. But I do not wish to enter into a marriage with a man who hates me. Please, Cecily – is there anything you can think of that I can do to regain his trust?"

They continued to walk, and Cecily said, "I will have to think on it. My brother is a good man, but he’s stubborn too. Once his good opinion is lost… Well, it is hard to regain." She flashed Penelope a smile. "He has written my sisters and me off as silly, vain creatures, simply because we enjoy the entertainment London has to offer."

"I’m sure he doesn’t–"

Cecily shook her head. "You do not need to deny it. I have come to accept it. It is who he is. I do not know what he has told you of his upbringing, but he was raised very strictly, with one goal in mind – to be the next Duke of Dunloch. He lives and breathes that title; anything which does not further his interests as duke is of no interest to him. He never expected to have three sisters to take care of."

"He does seem very singularly focused on his duties and estate," Penelope agreed, as they looped around the park and began to walk back.

"But I want my brother to be happy. And I believe you have good intentions, even if your plan was a little foolish."

Even though she was sure she was older than Cecily, Penelope bowed her head in contrition. It had been more than a little foolish, and she knew it.

"I am attending the Hampton Ball tomorrow night, with my sister Antonia," she said as they approached the gate. "Will you be there?"

"I can be," Penelope said quickly, knowing she had seen an invitation to the ball in the silver tray in the hallway of their London home.

"I will think of any way I can help you," Cecily promised. "As long as you wish to make my brother happy."

Penelope nodded earnestly. "I really do. He will wed me either way, because he is an honourable man – but I want to fix what is broken between us, before we say vows that tie us together for the rest of our lives. I believe we can be happy, as man and wife, if he can only forgive me."