The Duke's Quandary (11 page)

“Penelope. Look at me.” His soft voice started up the flutters in her stomach again. “Please?”

Why did he have to be so wonderful? So caring, so—him. Taking a shuddering breath, she stiffened her back and turned toward him.

He took both of her hands in his. “What imagined disaster happened this time that had you fleeing the ballroom?”

“What makes you think I was fleeing? Perhaps I merely wanted some fresh air.”

“Why is it your normal scent is something flowery, but now I smell lemons?” The glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly what her
imagined disaster
had been.

My usual scent is flowers? He knows my scent?

“I’m not absolutely certain I care to be identified by my smell.”

A long reflective silence followed while he regarded her. “I saw you bump into the footman. It was a crowded room. Those things happen all the time. It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was a gentle chide.

“Please, Your Grace, don’t try to excuse my clumsiness. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and crashed into the poor man.”

His eyebrows rose. “Ah. We’re back to Your Grace again.” He grasped her elbow. “Come.”

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a water fountain a few steps down on the right side of the house. I’m sure by now you would like to rid yourself of the lemonade. I imagine it must be quite sticky.”

The pale moonlight provided enough illumination for them to find their way to the fountain. Drake pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and drenched it in the bubbling water. “Here.”

It felt good—soothing—to have the stickiness gone. She reached as far into her bodice as she could, wiping the mess off. She threw Drake a questioning glance at his groan. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Are you finished?” His sharp tone caught her by surprise.

“Thank you, yes I am. I do feel better now.”

…

Drake studied Penelope in the moonlight. From the moment he’d first seen her this evening, he’d been enraptured. The messy, inept girl who’d arrived at their door weeks ago had turned into a beautiful young woman. Her beauty had always been there, but now he knew the soft, compassionate person underneath. She was both funny and serious, courageous and fearful, smart and unsophisticated. An enigma, for sure.

Every thought and feeling was plainly written on her face. Not having developed the coyness so prevalent among the
ton
young ladies, she was a breath of fresh air. She would make someone a treasured wife one day.

But why did the thought of another man as her husband bother him so much? One who would spend his life with her? Hold her in his arms, take her to his bed?

Although the girl had said many times she had no interest in marriage, he doubted she would get through the Season without an offer that appealed to her. She was simply too warm and nurturing to go through life with only her plants to love. Look what she’d done for Marion.

Without conscious thought, he reached out and ran the back of his fingers down her soft cheek. Her beautiful green eyes widened, and she licked her lips. Her breasts rose and fell as her breath quickened, and in the dim light he could see the pulse throbbing in her neck. Despite his best intentions, he could not deny the intense physical awareness between them.

Claiming her lips, he crushed her to him, all thoughts of inappropriateness fleeing his mind. Her breasts were soft against his chest, causing another part of his body to harden. His pulse racing in time with her heartbeat, he placed his hand on her lower back and edged her forward, the intimacy of the position heating his blood further.

“So sweet,” he mumbled as his lips released her and moved to her neck, scattering soft kisses on her warm skin. Fisting her hands in his coat sleeves, she seemed to hang on for her life.

“I don’t understand what you do to me.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and moved back, taking in her swollen lips and glazed eyes.

“Whatever it is, you do it to me as well,” she whispered.

Drake walked away from her, hands on his hips, head down. “This cannot continue. I need a wife this year, but someone who knows the
ton
, who can step into the position of duchess.” He looked up at her, his jaw set. “I need to be very careful of my selection. I can’t,” he waved his hand between them, “do this. You are an innocent, and I cannot be dallying with you.”

A gasp brought his attention to her stricken face. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around her middle as if to protect herself. “You are so right. It is a good thing I have no intention of ever seeking a husband, especially one as highborn as yourself.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I wish you luck in your search. Now if you will excuse me.” She swept past him, and then stopped, not turning around. “And I agree. This cannot happen again. Nor will it.”

She turned back and looked him directly in the eye. “Ever.”

Chapter Fourteen

Penelope tugged on the cuffs of her cornflower blue morning dress, tucked an errant curl behind her ear, then knocked softly on the duchess’s sitting room door. Her Grace had just sent word that she would like to speak with her.

It was two days after the coming-out ball, and although everyone told her what a success it had been, she still cringed when she remembered the mishap with the footman. But nothing could have been permanently stamped on her brain more than the kiss she and Drake had shared. Right before he told her how inadequate he found her. Well, perhaps he hadn’t quite said that, but he had certainly inferred it.

She’d managed to avoid him since that fateful evening, and had started taking her meals with Marion in her room. She told herself it had nothing to do with cowardice, and everything to do with helping Marion. The young widow was coming along quite nicely, and they had enjoyed several walks in the garden.

“Come in,” the duchess called.

She entered, and came to an abrupt halt when she saw Drake sitting next to his mother. He glanced at her, then found the vase of flowers alongside him very interesting.

“Please, dear, have a seat.” The duchess folded her hands in her lap and smiled. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything, Your Grace. You’ve been so kind to me.”

“Excellent. Marion would like to take a trip to the country. From what she tells me, she tried to leave the grounds during one of your strolls recently and the noise and confusion of the city drove her back. Needless to say, I am thrilled she wants to take this step.”

Not sure where this was going, Penelope merely nodded.

“Drake has graciously offered to escort Marion to Manchester Manor for a short visit. My daughter has asked that you accompany her on this trip, since she feels so comfortable in your presence.”

Travel to the country with Drake? And stay? She slanted a look at her nemesis, who regarded her with raised eyebrows and a smirk. A challenge, perhaps?

“Of course, Your Grace. I would be honored.” Actually, if not for the time she must spend with the duke, she would enjoy a trek to the country. Time out of doors with clean fresh air, and the lovely smell of early summer flowers and flora.

“When did you want to leave?” she asked Drake, coolly assessing him.

“Tomorrow, first light. If we do that, we only have to stop overnight once.”

Anxious to leave his presence, she rose. “I will begin to prepare myself for the journey, then. If you will excuse me, Your Graces.” She turned on her heel and, chin raised, left the room.

Drat!

…

The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon when Penelope climbed into the carriage that would take her, Drake, and Marion to Manchester Manor. Drake had opted to ride his horse, Abaccus, leaving the two women to travel in the carriage. It was just as well. Things were still awkward between them. To think she actually had begun to admire the man! Let him search for his “perfect” duchess and live happily ever after.

Marion reached over and touched her hand. “Thank you so much for coming along. I hope I’m not taking you away from any exciting social events.”

“Not at all. Frankly, I could use some time away. I’m not used to all these entertainments. Until now I’ve lived a very quiet life. In Boston it was just Father and me, and since I’ve moved to England, it’s been just my staff and me.”

Marion leaned back and rested her head against the seat. “I really want to return to the Manor. I remember it being so peaceful and lovely as a child. Also, there are no memories of Tristan there. After our whirlwind courtship during my Season, we had a quiet wedding at St. George’s Bloomsbury in London. Shortly after we returned from our honeymoon on the continent, he was ordered back to sea, and I returned to the country with my family.” She jerked as the carriage started up. “It must seem odd to most people that I’ve mourned him for two years. But Tristan was my life-long friend as well as my husband. I still miss him.”

“No. Not odd to me. You loved him very much, and I think if I felt that strongly about someone, I’d be absolutely lost if anything happened to him.” She turned to glance out the window as the sun disappeared from view when Drake rode past the carriage. Her resolve strengthened, she added, “Although I never plan to be in such a position.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You will find the right man one day. I just know it.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t want to find the right man. I will return to the country once the Season is over and take up my scientific work once again.”

“But don’t you want children?”

Penelope shrugged away the pain of that thought. “A cat perhaps.”

…

A few hours later, the slowing of the carriage jolted Penelope awake. She looked around, at first a bit confused as to where she was. “Goodness, I didn’t realize how tired I was. I’ve slept the morning away.”

“That’s all right,” Marion said as she pulled on her kid gloves. “We both did. I just awoke myself. It looks like we’re stopping here for luncheon.”

Once the carriage rolled to a complete stop, a footman jumped down from the top of the vehicle, lowered the steps, and opened the door. Drake stood there, his hand out to assist her. How she wished she was graceful enough to brush him aside and alight the carriage by herself. But that would be childish and also courting disaster. She took his hand, avoiding his eyes.

“Did you have a pleasant ride?” His deep voice, combined with the warmth of his hand, caused her to shiver. “Are you cold, Miss Clayton?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, and tugged her hand free.

Marion’s eyes widened at her remark. Penelope chose to ignore it, and headed to the inn. She was indeed being surly, but only if she kept her defenses up would she survive this trip.

The inn appeared to be doing a good business. As soon as they entered, the room grew still, which Drake was no doubt used to. No one could look at the man and not know he was a highborn gentleman. Once everyone had taken their measure of the group, they returned to their food, the conversation at a lower pitch.

The innkeeper hurried forward, tugging on his forelock. “Good afternoon, Your Grace, may I direct you to a private dining room?”

“Yes, that would be fine. The ladies would probably like to use the necessary before we dine.” Drake removed his gloves and hat, handing them to a serving girl who had followed the innkeeper out.

“Very good, Your Grace. This way, if you please, and m’daughter, Annabelle, will direct the ladies.”

Drake entered the private dining room and headed toward the window. A slight drizzle had begun, which meant he should ride in the carriage with the ladies when they departed. The thought of the strained silence that would ensue had him considering whether a bit of dampness on Abaccus’s back might not be a bad thing

“Manchester!” A loud voice interrupted his musing. “I thought that was you.” Joseph Fox strode into the room, his hand extended. “Are you traveling home?”

Drake pumped the affable man’s hand. He and Joseph had shared many adventures as boys, before going their separate ways. Although they’d both been at Oxford at the same time, they hadn’t seen much of each other. Joseph had attended Oxford Divinity School, while Drake, along with Coventry, found himself in the type of situations a divinity student would shun.

“Very nice to see you, Rector. Yes, I am headed home. A nice little break from the activities in Town.”

“Are you travelling alone?”

“No. My sister, Marion is with me, as well as—”

Both men turned toward the doorway as Marion and Penelope entered the dining room.

“Marion. It’s so good to see you. It’s been a long while.” Joseph moved toward her and took both of her hands in his, and studied her face.

Slight lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she greeted her childhood friend. “I’ve been in London for the past two years. I’m so looking forward to returning to Manchester Manor for a short visit.”

Drake was proud of how well she received Fox. Perhaps she was truly coming out of her malaise.

Thanks to Penelope.

Joseph lowered his voice. “I was very sorry to hear about your husband. Lost at sea, I understand?”

“Yes.”

“I pray for him every night.”

Marion dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Fox then turned his attention to Penelope. “And who might this lovely lady be?”

“Penelope, this is Mr. Joseph Fox, a longtime friend of our family. He’s Rector at St. Gertrude’s church in the next village over from ours.” Marion tucked her arm into Penelope’s, and smiled at Joseph. “This is Miss Penelope Clayton. She’s visiting with us in London for the Season. We’ve become friends, and I asked her to travel with us.”

Joseph executed a bow worthy of the finest ballroom in London. “Miss Clayton. It is truly a pleasure.” He shot a glance at Drake. “Manchester, why is it you always get to spend time with the most beautiful women in England?” He looked back at Penelope. “He always had the prettiest ladies on his arm when we were at Oxford.”

Drake snorted. They were rarely
ladies
. And why the devil was Fox getting so friendly with Penelope?

“Have you eaten yet, Joseph?” Marion turned to her brother. “We should ask the innkeeper to set another place.”

“As a matter of fact, I have not yet had luncheon, and would be delighted to dine with you.”

Marion beamed, apparently enjoying the company. Fox had always been able to set people at their ease, and make them laugh.

A regular charmer.

“May I escort you to the table, Miss Clayton?” The rector extended his arm and Penelope placed her hand there, her face flushed.

Drake helped Marion to her seat, then settled himself across from Joseph. “So tell me, Fox, how is your wife?”

The man tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “Wife? I am not married.”

“Oh, thought I’d heard that,” Drake mumbled. “Engaged, I suppose?”

“No. In fact I’ve been looking for the perfect woman for some time now.” He looked pointedly at Penelope, who flushed again.

“Looking for the ‘perfect’ woman seems to be a popular past time.” Penelope shook out her serviette and placed it on her lap.

“Ah, but when I find her, I will woo her with poems and flowers and rides down country lanes. Picnics and strolls along the lake.”

“That sounds lovely.” Penelope beamed, her eyes bright.

Drake snorted. It was just like Penelope to fall for some sweet talking preacher. Despite his holy calling, Fox had always had a way with the women, and apparently nothing had changed.

“Miss Clayton is a scientist,” Drake blurted out. “She likes to dig around in the dirt and find unusual specimens.”

“Is that so?” Joseph leaned closer to Penelope. “Tell me about that, Miss Clayton. I am enamored with science. And I find a woman who uses her God-given intelligence a breath of fresh air.”

“Indeed? And you don’t find a woman who
crawls around in the dirt
unladylike?” she asked, glaring at Drake.

Joseph leaned back as the serving girl placed bowls of fragrant stew, a basket of bread, and a crock of butter on the table. “Not at all. I like to fiddle in the garden myself, and would love to have you join me at the vicarage to show me some of these plants, Miss Clayton.”

“She’ll be too busy.” Drake’s jaw clenched so hard his gums hurt. What the devil was the matter with him? He wanted Penelope to find a nice man to marry.
Marry?
Where did that come from? Fox was only being himself. It was most unlikely he had an interest in Penelope, aside from being polite.
With that reassuring thought, Drake relaxed his muscles, and dug into his food.

“May I call on you, Miss Clayton, when you’re not too busy?” Joseph asked.

“Yes, of course.” Penelope nodded. “It would be delightful to have the company of a
pleasant
gentleman.”

Drake twisted his neck to relieve the tension in his shoulders. If Miss Clayton wanted to make a fool of herself by encouraging a man who loved to court the ladies, with no intention of anything permanent, then so be it. It wasn’t his concern, or problem.

Shortly after they finished their meal, Joseph leaned back. “Since it appears to be raining a bit more heavily, could I be so bold as to ask for a ride to Manchester?”

“Why, Joseph, we would love to have your company on the ride, wouldn’t we, Penelope? Will you continue to ride Abaccus?” Marion asked Drake.

Ride Abaccus in the rain, getting soaked, while Fox whiled away the hours entertaining the ladies in a snug, dry coach? “No. I think I’ll join the rest of you in the carriage.” He pushed his chair back with such force it banged against the wall, and he stood. “We should be on our way.”

…

Penelope laughed at another funny story with which Mr. Fox entertained the group. The afternoon hours in the carriage had gone by quickly. The rector proved to be a delightful traveling companion, his jocularity a distinct contrast to Drake’s sullen mood. The man had sat ramrod straight the entire time, glaring at Mr. Fox every time he opened his mouth.

Now, Drake sat slumped in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window at the miserable day. What in heaven’s name was the matter with him? A lot of the stories Joseph had regaled them with included escapades of him and Drake as boys. She especially enjoyed the story of how Drake and Joseph once tied Abigail to a tree to keep her from following them. Instead of laughing along, Drake seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in dismissing the stories with a grunt or snort.

The carriage slowed down in front of another inn. This would be their stop for the night. Penelope was more than ready to leave the vehicle for the day. Her muscles were stiff and her bottom sore from the hours sitting. Marion appeared a bit peaked, also, which was understandable, given how long it had been since she’d even left her room, let alone traveled for hours.

The innkeeper stood in front of the carriage door with a large umbrella. “Nasty weather we’re having, Your Grace. Please step into the inn, where we have a nice private dining room ready for you with a goodly fire.” The cheerful man took the ladies first, returning for Mr. Fox and Drake.