chapter 34: promenades and paintings

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"It's him, I can't believe it's him."

Penelope lifted her umbrella over the back of her head as she peered to see who the ladies were talking about. She was taking a walk along Main Street, trying to process these last few weeks. Colin, Eloise, Mabel, her family, Whistledown.

When she started secretly writing her papers, she felt as though she knew exactly who she was. However, like most deaths, her grief over her father propelled her to stop and reflect. What was her endgame here? Yes, she wanted a husband and a family of her own. However, it looked like that might not ever happen. So what could she do that would make her feel whole? She didn't want to write gossip letters until she was an old woman, alone, and barely able to get out of bed by herself. She needed something more.

She glanced as an adorned carriage lingered on the side of the road. She followed the whispers and gossip until she saw what was causing such conversation. It was the Prince of Windshire, walking alongside his secretary. It was bizarre to see a secretary walk beside and not behind their royal, but the prince did say actions were more modern in Windshire.

She stood and waited until he would walk past her. She wasn't expecting him to remember her. They had only talked for a few minutes and he probably met a hundred more interesting people at the party later that night. She held the pale blue umbrella in her hand, the colour matching her dress. It was different for her, but perhaps a change was just what she needed. It was the first of many changes she planned to make. As she heard footsteps approach, she bowed and stood again with her head down.

"Miss Featherington, is that you?"

She looked up in shock, was that her name just now being called? The prince was in front of her, standing and smiling, the sun shining down brightly on him like a halo as if it even recognized he was a prince. He took a step closer to her, and she instinctively felt everyone around her take a step back.

"Your majesty," she bowed. He bowed as well. He took one more step closer and murmured only quietly enough for her to hear, "I thought we agreed on William."

Penelope blushed and bowed again, "William," she muttered like a foreign word on her tongue.

He glanced around, not looking at the crowd that surrounded them, but as if he was looking through them, "Are you alone?"

"Uh, yes, I just wanted to enjoy the fresh air and .... See the flowers." Penelope cringed at her stumbled words.

"Well in that case, would you like to accompany me on this promenade?" He could see the hesitation in Pen's eyes. "The pleasure would be all mine," he quickly added.

This didn't seem real. That was the only thought running through Pen's mind. She felt like she was watching herself from outside her own body.

They began to walk side-by-side and Pen noticed the staring gradually turning to shock. What was he doing with a Featherington girl? She tried to keep her head down as she walked, not wanting to look anywhere by the ground in front of her feet.

"So Penelope, tell me about yourself," the Prince said.

Pen looked up at him with widened eyes. What could she say? That her family was a mess, that her love life was equally a mess, that she had been spending the last few months writing gossip about the ton and that everyone either wanted to befriend Whistledown or kill her.

Instead, she reached down into the part of her mind that held the memories she'd usually like to forget. She recalled the training she'd received from her mother and nanny. "Well, I am the youngest of three sisters, I enjoy playing the pianoforte, cross-stitching and I'm quite proficient at ....."

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