Page 47 of All Duke and Bothered

“A red leather folder, Penelope. If you find it somewhere in the house and bring it to me, I’ll be free of the yoke Grandhampton has over me. Moreover, you’ll be free to leave him.”

Leave him? No. That didn’t feel good or right at all. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to betray him. She wanted the truth, and she wanted to love him and live her life happily with him. She wanted more nights like they’d had, more of his hot, hard body pinning her to the mattress in the most delicious way possible. More soul-to-soul conversations that made her feel loved and understood and important. More painting his handsome, chiseled face. More admiring his body as she painted the outlines of his arms and his muscular chest.

More of him. Every day.

“Papa, I can’t steal my husband’s documents.”

“Well, can you let your poor old papa die in a debtor’s prison?”

“You won’t go to the debtor’s prison. You’re a peer.”

“Then die at the hands of the men I’m indebted to?”

A bone-deep chill ran through Penelope. “What?”

“Yes. It has come to that.” His chin shook as he looked around, his eyes watering. Penelope closed her eyes, her heart bleeding with pity for her papa.

“There must be another way. I’ll tell Preston, I’m sure he’d understand and help—”

“No! Do not dare. Who do you think wanted me to be in this terrible situation? I almost had a solution in my hands, and he took it from me.”

Penelope exhaled sharply. A lord and lady passed by them, laughing and smiling in the sunshine. When they were out of earshot, she resumed walking and so did Papa. She was thinking. If the document in question went missing, Preston would be furious. But it would not only help Papa, it would also remove the very means of Preston’s revenge. So perhaps, with that out of his hands, he’d stop his menacing plan. They’d be able to move on, and she’d finally have her happily ever after with him.

“Very well, Papa,” she said, a shiver running through her blood. Resentment towards him pinched at her. She was not a thief. She was not a liar. All she wanted was to help. But it seemed her papa was always pushing her to do things she didn’t wish to do. “I’ll do it.”

* * *

After her talk with Papa, Penelope returned to Emma and Calliope and walked with them for a bit. An hour or so later, she was back home.

She gave her bonnet and her spencer to Porter and asked him to tell Mrs. Brown to come and see her in the library. A few minutes later, Mrs. Brown entered, as always very professional, with her face stretched out in a polite mask. “Your Grace, may I be of service?”

“Mrs. Brown…” Penelope said, eyeing the door to Preston’s study. How would she ever be able to go in there to actually steal something? “I just wanted to discuss the menu for the next week.”

“Of course, madam,” said Mrs. Brown. “What would you like?”

“I thought something lighter than usual. Something more fitting for spring. It’s so wonderful to feel summer approaching, and I think His Grace would enjoy the change. I’d like to cheer him up. Radish salad, perhaps. Asparagus would be nice, as well.”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Brown. “Let me write that down.”

She went to the desk and took a piece of paper from a small, elegant folder and began writing. They added artichokes and green peas to the list as well as dill, chives, and parsley.

Now that Preston had given her her own studio and allowed her to change the paintings to lighter, more colorful ones, she’d started to feel more at home here. But the biggest transformation was, of course, her husband. He had changed from a cold and unfeeling man who hated her into someone who made love to her and talked to her, listened to her, and shared some very deep secrets.

And yet, she had agreed to betray him. Heaviness sat in her stomach. She wanted to make up for what she was about to do in some way. She wanted to make Chalworth her and Preston’s true home. She wanted to brighten it up for him. Dissipate the gloom and darkness and make it more hopeful and full of light.

“I’d also like to order a few pieces of new furniture,” said Penelope when they finished discussing the menu.

Mrs. Brown straightened her back. “Oh, Your Grace?”

“It’s just all so dark. I’d like more light in the house. Can you give me an address for a good carpenter? I’d like modern furniture with light colors.”

Mrs. Brown didn’t reply for a bit, seeming to look for words. “Very good, Your Grace.”

There was an edge to her voice, which Penelope chose to ignore. She understood Mrs. Brown was loyal to the family’s history, but it was long past time for a change. Penelope was doing this for Preston and for herself. Perhaps even Mrs. Brown would feel less sour in a more cheerful space.

“Also, if you could please make sure the curtains are drawn as much as possible?” asked Penelope. “The windows are small and don’t let much light in.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Brown coldly. “I’ll make sure the maids know. Anything else?”