Back on the Collins estate, Penelope walked to the front doors to collect the letters that had arrived from her ho.
Though she was not at ho, Penelope had duties to fulfil. She was lucky to have Winston and Matilda working hard to make up for her absence.
"Your footsteps have beco lighter," Penelope said, speaking to Damien, who felt more like a shadow. "Do you wish to join my husband? Nothing exciting will happen here."
"It is my duty to protect you. Brendon returns today to aid in protecting you. I miss nothing by being at your side," said Damien.
"You are fortunate not to be my guard in my younger days. Reed claid that I was the source of his grey hairs. Do you know of the ti Tyrion saved when I was running from n I beat in gambling?" Penelope asked, making small talk to keep her mind busy.
"You spoke of it before, but I did not know all that happened. I was usually the one to stay back to help the prince return to the palace. Gambling is a dangerous ga for a lady," Damien said, but he wasn’t surprised Penelope enjoyed it.
Damien had been around Penelope long enough to know she loved trouble. She was a proper lady now, but tales of what she had done were reaching his ears.
"I know that it is dangerous, but it is also fun. It is ruined by n who don’t know how to face a loss. Why must you get all the fun? For a lady to gamble, it would need to be a private gathering. It sounds wonderful," Penelope considered it.
Penelope knew there were such gatherings around the town, but the ladies invited were carefully picked so word wouldn’t get out.
"Perhaps I should play against you one day since I cannot travel the town to do it," said Penelope.
"I will have to politely decline. I don’t want to lose my money."
"You are not good at it?" Penelope asked, disappointed to hear this. "I can teach you."
"It is not a matter of whether I am good, but needing to lose on purpose so I don’t have to face the prince. Please spare us," Damien said in a pleading tone.
Penelope chuckled. "If my husband ever tries to scold you for sothing you do with , you must co to . I will save you."
"I shall keep a note of this," said Damien.
Though Damien accepted the offer, he knew better than to run to Penelope whenever he was being scolded by Tyrion. It would do more harm than good to have Penelope protecting him when Tyrion was a jealous brute.
"Mother!" Penelope called, running towards her mother.
"No matter the age, you must always run. Be careful, Penelope," Alessandra said, worried Penelope might trip.
"It is only us here, so I don’t need to be well behaved. Are you expecting a letter from my father?" Penelope asked, inspecting the letters in her mother’s hand.
Gerald, who was standing with Alessandra, handed the letters with Penelope and Tyrion’s nas to Penelope.
"I am, but I am also expecting a letter from the queen. I am thinking of visiting the queen soon since she worries so much about the town. The others are invitations to gatherings," Alessandra said, handing those letters back to Gerald.
"The town isn’t aware of what we face. We might be able to attend gatherings, but I am not in the mood for it. There were a few I needed to attend as a Castro. I am lucky that the queen and princess will not be attending, so I will not be judged," said Penelope.
Penelope went through the letters one by one. Most were invitations to social events, while a few were what Matilda and Winston wrote to her about the state of her ho.
"It appears Winston and Matilda are both eager to write to . I must write back plenty to them and thank them for their hard work. Oh, there is one for Tyrion," Penelope said, puzzled by the red envelope.
Before Penelope saw Tyrion’s na, she thought it was an invitation to a ball, given its elaborate decoration.
"It is from a lady. I know this na," Penelope said, flipping the envelope over to open it.
Penelope took out the letter, which appeared to be carefully written. She scoffed, surprised yet not surprised by the contents of the letter.
"So ladies are so bold," Penelope said, annoyed.
In the midst of a great problem, a lady still found ti to write to Tyrion.
Penelope caught a whiff of a scent and brought the paper to her nose to check.
"It is also scented. It is faint, but I know what the perfu is. It is a love letter," Penelope said, gripping the paper. "Did she think it would slip by ? That Tyrion wouldn’t speak of it?"
"It is not so uncommon. I have had ladies try to court your father while we are married. I don’t know if any letters were ever sent since Alfred or your father would have gotten rid of them. Many don’t see marriage as sacred," said Alessandra.
"There are certain won I expect this behaviour from, but not a lady of her standing. She didn’t hide her intentions. It is as clear as day that it is a love letter to my husband. She has picked the wrong ti to be a nuisance to ," Penelope said, her anger quickly getting the best of her.
"Such behaviour is done amongst ladies of all status. So simply don’t have any sha. You mustn’t pay any mind to it. Unfortunately, she will not be the last. It happens quite often at balls," Alessandra said, carefully taking the letter from Penelope’s hands.
"I know there is an urge to respond, but you mustn’t. Responding does nothing for you, but sothing for her. She will know that she has your attention and hope it will soon bring Tyrion’s attention. It is best to ignore," Alessandra advised Penelope.
Alessandra was never fond of ladies trying to seduce Edgar, but she knew his heart, and thankfully, Edgar was always quick to speak his mind before she did.
"Can you trust Tyrion?"
"Of course, I can trust him. It is only the ladies I cannot trust. Believe , I don’t intend to make her think she has upset , nor will I keep this letter, though it would be useful for the future," Penelope said, giving Gerald the letter. "Dispose of it."
"Shall I write to your ho to request no more letters from this na be sent?" Gerald questioned and then awaited his order.
"No," Penelope shook her head. "Let her embarrass herself. Word of how bold she is will get out without needing to intervene. When they arrive, burn them."
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