Penelope
Page 28
“Your grace,” she said turning her face away, “I will be a nuisance as a duchess.”
“An endearing nuisance,” he replied promptly. “And if I hear you call me ‘Your Grace’ again, I will kiss you. My name is Charles.”
“You brought my goat, your grace.”
The duke frowned and then his face lit up.
Penelope was eyeing him mischievously.
“You want be kissed, do you?” He paused, and then continued in a more serious tone, “You do know that I love you?”
“How can I not? You took lessons from Madame on how to woo me, brought my beloved pet, and dressed up as a highwayman, deer stealer, and a burglar of some note. Only a duke in love would do that, Charles.”
The bandits, burglars, pickpockets, plunderers … all fifteen of them, along with Mrs Jimmy Grey, exploded in cheers. Lady Bathsheba thumped her tail enthusiastically on the ground.
The duke wasted not a second longer and gathered her in his arms. The heated kiss was broken only when Lady Bathsheba came bounding up.
“Sorry, could hold her no longer,” Jimmy called.
Penelope hugged her goat, tears of happiness streaming down her face.
Epilogue
On August 5th, under stormy skies, Penelope, dressed in yards of silver satin and lace, walked towards the church with her father. At the entrance her mother fluttered down from the third cloud on the right and gripped Penelope’s hand with her shadowy fingers. Together the three of them entered the church, each of them content and deliriously happy for the first time in years.
Inside the church a hush fell upon the crowd as they caught sight of the beautiful bride walking down the aisle followed by a goat in a white lace bonnet. A few Grande Dames muttered that Penelope seemed a tad eager to reach the duke’s side. They also grumbled that Penelope’s vows were said a little bit too loudly to be considered proper.
But when Miss Penelope Winifred Rose Spebbington Fairweather and the Duke of Blackthorne, Charles Cornelius Radclyff, were pronounced husband and wife, the Grand Dames, along with the rest of those present, cried their hearts out. Gertrude, the evil step-mother, wailed the loudest, and Jimmy Grey actually stood up and cheered.
Finally, when Penelope, as the new Duchess of Blackthorne, kissed the duke, fourteen young women and Sir Henry Woodville swooned. The ladies swooned because, as the Grand Dames put it, the kiss had been outright scandalous. And Sir Henry swooned because during the passionate kiss the duke’s dark moustache completely and irrefutably detached from his upper lip.
At the wedding breakfast table, Penelope smiled across at Anne (now Lady Rivers), who winked back. She continued searching the happy faces until she spotted the person she was looking for. Lord Adair acknowledged her grin with a nod. He also pointed at her chin, and she quickly wiped a crumb off her chin, her eyes grateful.
The late morning revelries continued. The dowager was merrily tipsy and was spotted dancing with Hopkins, the valet, near the full but silent orchestra. Gertrude was wailing in one corner and no one was sure if her tears were from happiness or heart wrenching misery. The rumour mill also buzzed that ‘The Falcon’ had come to give the bride his blessings. Jimmy, in turn, informed Penelope that the Cobra had taken his broken heart to Ireland and decided to run a respectable pub there.
The duke detached himself from Sir Henry, who had spent the last hour lecturing him on the importance of moustaches. He approached his wife, who was busy gossiping with Lady Plasket, and whispered in her ear. She blushed and nodded. They escaped to the orangery for a few stolen kisses and whispered sweet nothings. He promised her that the best part was still to come, and that was the wedding night. The wedding night happened, but before that the wedding afternoon happened (the bride and groom were impatient), and Penelope agreed wholeheartedly that it had truly been the best.
In fact, it had been so good that Penelope conceived that very day and gave birth to a baby girl nine months later. The duke had sweated and paced outside the room until he heard the bawling child.
Ten years later the eighth child was born. Some men would have become used to the process by now and taken themselves off to the gentleman’s club to await the news of whether it was a boy, girl, or twins this time. But the duke was not one of those men. He once again sweated and paced outside the room until he heard the screech of a new born child.
It was a girl, and when he saw the wrinkly baby lying in Penelope’s arms, he hmmphed.
‘No more,’ he said sternly. “No more brats, I warning you, Penny.’
Penelope smiled watching him pick up the child. Behind his cross expression, his eyes were blazing with joy. She knew he would always be grim, but she also knew that even after all these years, he loved her and would continue to love her and all her little brats until her dying day.
***
As for Lord Adair, he was knighted for his services to the king (He is now in the disguise of a chimney sweep trying to track down an international jewel thief).
Perkins retired. Hotchkins took his place.
Mary married the stablehand.
Lady Bathsheba married Lord Bathsheba and had many little Bathshebas.
In short, everyone lived happily ever after, except for Lady Lydia Snowly, who married the unfortunate Lord Poyning.
The End
About the Author
Anya Wylde lives in Ireland along with her husband and a fat French poodle (now on a diet). She can cook a mean curry, and her idea of exercise is occasionally stretching her toes. She holds a degree in English literature and adores reading and writing. Connect with Anya Wylde on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Google+ to be notified about her upcoming releases.
Cover design by Kimberly Killion,