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Calliope covered her hands with hers. “Oh, please, tell me what is the matter. Clearly, he made you upset. You’re my new sister. Please, tell me.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped. Calliope’s eyes were so kind. And Penelope had no one to share her troubles with, no mother to ask for advice. Perhaps Calliope could advise Penelope on how to live with her new husband in peace.

“Truth is, I don’t know why your brother married me when he hates me so much. He bosses me around. He tells me to my face how poorly he thinks of me. He gets drunk and goes out all night…”

Calliope sighed. “Drinking all night? He’s a married man now and should be giving up his rakish ways. I’m sure he will once he adjusts to this sudden change. He can be difficult to get close to, but deep inside, he’s very sensitive. He’s protective. And has the biggest heart.”

He hadn’t forbidden Penelope from painting. Though that didn’t prove anything about his kind heart. “Very deep inside, perhaps,” said Penelope. “And very well hidden.”

Calliope patted Penelope’s hand. “The truth is, he was hurt by Spencer’s death so much more than he admits. He and Spencer fought like two enraged cocks, but he almost always went to support Spencer at his boxing matches, and Spencer went to cheer him on at his fencing matches. Once, Spencer took Papa’s favorite horse and went riding when he wasn’t supposed to. When he returned and it was lame, Preston took the blame. And he was always the first one to protect me against my parents when I did mischief as a girl.”

Penelope frowned. Could the duke really have been a selfless boy like that when all he did was jeer at her and treat her like his enemy? She suddenly remembered something from the letter.

“Were Spencer and Lord Richard sent to boarding school?” she asked, picking up the teapot and refilling Calliope’s teacup, then her own.

Calliope frowned. “No. Only Preston was. Why do you ask?”

Penelope lifted her teacup and fingered the handle. “Why only him?”

Calliope bit her lower lip. “He told you about that, did he? All right. Since you already know… It happened at Grandhampton when Spencer was ten and Preston was eight. I was told about it much later by Spencer. Apparently, they fought. It was Spencer who instigated it. They were outside, pushing, shoving each other, running after one another. There was a construction site at the back of the building and new French windows had been brought in. Spencer said, in the heat of the moment, he shoved Preston quite forcefully. Spencer had always been bigger and stronger, but Preston was smaller and faster. And so Preston dodged and ran away. Spencer, however, lost his balance and plummeted right through the window, which stood leaned against the half wall. Then he fell over the wall and down into a pit.”

Penelope gasped softly and set down her teacup, imagining the two brothers fighting the way they did, so dangerously. “What happened then?”

“Spencer almost bled out. It was quite bad, and Mama and Papa were traumatized. Preston didn’t tell them it was Spencer who began the fight and Spencer’s actions that led to the fall. He said it was his fault. I’m not sure, exactly.”

Penelope gripped the handle of her teacup a bit too firmly, listening with rapt attention.

“But Papa and Mama got such a scare about Spencer,” continued Calliope after she paused to take another sip of tea. “They all thought he’d die. So Papa became very angry with Preston, saying how tired he was of Preston’s disobedience, of his tricks, and now he was actually dangerous. He sent him to Scotland, to the Mackenzie boarding school near Eilean Donan. The Mackenzies are our distant relatives… I think it was the eighth Duke of Grandhampton that had married a Mackenzie—perhaps that was where Papa’s auburn hair and blue eyes came from. Anyway, poor Preston spent every year at the boarding school taking Spencer’s punishment and never said a thing to Mama and Papa.”

Despite herself, Penelope imagined Preston, a dark-haired boy with stern black eyes somewhere up north in the mountains where it was cold and dark and desolate. Missing home. While his brothers and his sister spent every day of their lives with their mama and papa who loved them.

That must have been so lonely for him.

But she shouldn’t feel sorry for him just because Calliope had told her a couple of stories. Perhaps he’d been loyal to his family. But he certainly wasn’t loyal to her or to her papa.

“Your testimonial does him justice,” she said.

Calliope nodded. “Give it time. We were all surprised by your engagement since it was always Spencer who was enamored of you.”

Penelope squinted. Right, that was what the deceased duke’s letter had implied. “I always thought he only viewed me as a friend. I’ve only recently learned his feelings went beyond that.”

“Truly? Well, he was a terrible rake, so it’s understandable that you might have been confused by his attention. I don’t know why he didn’t speak with you and make his intentions clear. But there’s nothing for it now. What matters is you and Preston. He has been struck by grief more than any of us, I must say. Spencer and Preston constantly fought about everything, but I always knew it was because, deep inside, they were too similar. That’s why they quarreled. Not really because they hated each other. Because they loved each other.”

That, certainly, was true according to Spencer’s letter.

“Please, do not give up on him,” Calliope said. “Try and see the good things about him.”

Penelope nodded. “I will.”

But the truth was, she couldn’t. Not right now.

“There’s one more matter I meant to talk to you about… Are you coming to Lady Leroy’s art soirée tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. “The duke told me we will attend.”

“Well…I heard…” Calliope looked down and wrung her hands. “I heard a strange rumor,” she said softly. “There was some question if you would be entirely welcome there.”

Penelope frowned. “Why?”