"What is it?" asked Genie.
"Mornings. Don't do them. Tried it once, ended up locked in a cellar. Won't go there again."
"Then I shall be forced to accept your schedule and sleep until teatime." Genie closed her eyes and did just as she promised.
***
Pen took a deep breath of the cool night air, the scent of violets filling her lungs. "You have done a beautiful job."
"Thank you. I think it turned out well." Marchford motioned for Penelope to sit on a stone bench in the garden and sat on another bench across the path from her.
"What a night," sighed Penelope.
"Everything went according to plan," declared the duke.
Penelope raised an eyebrow.
"The revised plan," amended Marchford. "You did well, organizing things."
"You did well as the master of ceremony," praised Pen. "I am happy, and perhaps a little relieved, with how things transpired. The new Mr. and Mrs. Grant seem well pleased with each other."
"Never thought I'd see the day Grant willingly got leg shackled."
"Agreed! And Lady Louisa seems content with her choice of grooms."
"I am abundantly pleased for her."
"As well you should be, since now you do not have to be noble and marry her."
Marchford stretched out on the stone bench, breathing in the cool fragrant air of the garden. "Yes, everything went according to my plan."
"Except now you are unmarried, unattached, and in the middle of the London season," reminded Penelope.
Marchford sat bolt upright. "Good heavens! What have I done?"
"Pleasant dreams, Your Grace."