The Duke's Quandary (13 page)

“Yes. I realize I’ve known her a very short time, but I find her to be refreshingly charming.”

“Indeed?”

Apparently unaware of the hostility suddenly filling the room, Joseph leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs. “Yes. I think she’s a remarkable young lady. And I think she finds me likeable, as well.”

“And?”

“Well. I would like to ask her to marry me.”

Drake shot up from the chair. “Marry? Are you serious, man? You’ve just met her.”

Joseph leaned back and met Drake’s glare. “Yes. I know we haven’t known each other for long, and I would be willing to have a somewhat lengthy engagement if that is her desire.”

“Do you know she’s a scientist?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know she’s a bit on the clumsy side?”

Joseph hesitated, his regard cautious. “Yes.”

“And she has no intention to ever marry?”

“Yes. We’ve discussed that, but I believe I can change her mind.”

Drake snorted.

“In any event, I assume you have no objection?” Joseph studied him for a minute. “Unless. . .”

“Unless what?” Drake growled.

“Is there an understanding between the two of you?”

“Absolutely not.” He stood and moved to the window, his back to Joseph. “I plan to choose a wife myself this year. Someone who will fit my requirements. A true lady. One who will bear the title ‘Duchess’ with dignity.”

“And have you decided on someone?”

He turned and leaned against the window frame. “As a matter of fact, there is a woman who I plan to make an offer for. Her name is Lady Daphne, Lord Sirey’s daughter. She’s a charming, sophisticated, well-bred young lady. Exactly who I have in mind for my wife. I have had my eye on her for some time.”

“I am very happy to hear that. Then I am to assume Miss Clayton is no more to you than your family’s houseguest?”

He studied Joseph for a minute, and then waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s correct. Nothing more than my mother’s houseguest.”

“Why do I get the feeling you are not too sure about that?”

“Nonsense.” Drake fiddled with the cord on the window drape, avoiding Joseph’s questioning gaze. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Joseph’s jaw dropped. “My God. You’re in love with her.”

Stunned, Drake shouted, “Are you crazy, man?” He stabbed the air with his index finger. “I will never fall in love. Love will not factor into my decision for a wife. And in any event, I told you I’ve already selected a woman as my duchess.”

“Have you offered for her?”

“No.”

“If she is perfect, why not?”

“I will. When the time is right.”

After a minute of silence with Drake’s words echoing in the room, Joseph stood and held out his hand. “As you say. However, I will give this more thought. I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Miss Clayton as yet.”

He hesitated, then took the man’s hand. “If that is your wish, then I will abide by it.”

Fox turned and headed toward the door. “Good luck with your search. I’m sure if you look hard enough, you will find the perfect duchess.”

With the sound of the door closing, Drake stared at the floor, his thoughts in a jumble. After a moment, he rallied himself and headed toward the library and the bottle of brandy. He poured a generous portion, and took a quick gulp. Moving to the window, he watched Joseph swing his leg over his horse and head back toward his village.

As soon as they returned to Town, he would make an offer for Lady Daphne. It was time he got on with his life, and marrying the perfect woman was the first step. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. Then there would be no more annoying visitors telling him he was in love with the most unsuitable woman in all of London.

Love.
Ridiculous.

He took a large swallow of his brandy and shook his head.

Chapter Sixteen

The colorful gowns of the ladies swirling around the dance floor at the Brentwood crush blocked his view as Drake sought out his sisters. Within minutes he’d spotted all four of them, but where the devil was Penelope? His mother chatted happily with her friends, oblivious to the fact that one of her charges had gone astray. He had no need for this; it was nearing the time for his dance with Lady Daphne. Why he felt compelled to keep an eye on Miss Clayton baffled him.

Two days ago, shortly after Joseph had left his library, Drake had announced to Marion and Penelope that they were leaving for London in the morning. He needed to make a serious effort to claim his bride. His reluctance to follow through on what he’d decided back at the beginning of the Season would end. Lady Daphne was a perfect choice, and the time had arrived to move forward.

The lady in question was currently gathered with a group of girls, but her attention was riveted across the ballroom. He turned to see what had caught Lady Daphne’s interest. Lord Shaffer stood with Lord Beamer, who leaned close to him, obviously making a point. Shaffer nodded politely, but it was obvious he was distracted, and kept glancing in the direction of the group of girls Lady Daphne conversed with.

He shrugged and headed toward the French doors. Conceivably Penelope had gone for some air. Once he assured himself she was not getting into trouble, he would relax. In fact, he’d make sure she stood near his mother for the rest of the evening.

Several couples wandered the well-lit garden area. It didn’t take him long to spot her, almost as if she was a magnet for his eyes. He descended the few steps to the graveled path toward the stone bench where she sat. A man leaned over her, his foot resting on the bench. Penelope edged back, and the man moved closer. Drake’s pulse sped up when he recognized Smythe.

“No, sir. I am truly sorry you are disappointed, but I do not wish to marry you.” Her voice carried to his ears, but Smythe’s response was lost since the man faced away from him.

How dare that sniveling reprobate accost her once again? His blood pumped through him, and his breath quickened as he hurried forward. Reaching out, he grabbed Smythe by the shoulder, spun him around, and planted him a facer. The man went down with a thud.

“I told you to stay far away from Miss Clayton. Either you leave right now, or I will make sure you spend the rest of the Season recovering.” Red hot anger raced through him at seeing this rogue once again too close to Penelope. He prayed the man would get up and allow him to beat him into a pulp.

“No. Don’t.” Penelope pulled on his sleeve. “People are beginning to stare. Please.”

Taking deep gulps of air, he leaned over Smythe. “I will not upset Miss Clayton, but I can assure you this is not over.”

Smythe pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, patted his split lip, and glared at the duke. “Just what is your interest in the chit?”

“None of your bloody business. And when I return I expect to see the tail end of your carriage.” Straightening his cravat, he turned and took Penelope’s elbow. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” She looked over her shoulder at Smythe as Drake pulled her along.

“For a walk.” How could the girl be so foolish as to be caught alone again with Smythe? Was she trying to get herself compromised? The terror on her face as she moved back from the rogue added unwanted twists to his gut. Had she learned nothing from her last encounter?

Penelope took two steps to his every one. Eventually, he realized the poor girl was out of breath trying to keep up with him, and he stopped.

“Thank goodness. My slippers were about to wear out.”

He looked down at her, and the tightness in his stomach grew. Her coiffure had once again slipped, with loosened curls gracing her slender shoulders. Her jade green eyes, framed by thick lashes behind her gold wire spectacles, regarded him. She teased him with a hesitant smile, her face a soft shadow in the moonlight.

What in heaven’s name was she doing to him? He was acting in ways that made no sense. She could tie him into knots with a mere glance. In his many years of dealing with women, he’d never felt so out of control as he did with this one. One minute he wanted to throttle her, and the next sweep her into his arms and find the nearest bed.

The light floral scent wafting from her creamy skin drew him closer. A slight breeze teased the curls at the nape of her neck, beckoning him to touch the softness of her hair.

But his entire focus was on those lips. Nothing would satisfy him but to cover the sweetness of her mouth with his. Slowly, he ran his palms up her arms to her shoulders. Then he cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “God help me, why can’t I stay away from you?”

He leaned in for a kiss. Her lips were warm and soft. He ran his tongue against them, urging her to open. Her slight gasp gave him the opportunity he needed. He slid into her moistness, skimming each tender spot. She stiffened and pushed at his chest, but he didn’t let go. She jerked her head aside, her voice breathless. “No. I told you never again.”

“Ah, Penelope, love. I can’t help it. And I know you feel it, too.”

She leaned back, his tight grip preventing her from falling backwards. “Please. I can’t deal with this. We must stay away from each other.”

He gently cupped her head, easing her closer until her face rested against his chest. “I know we should stay away from one another. I tried. God knows I’ve tried. But it’s not working, Penelope. I can’t stop thinking about you. Wanting to kiss you, hold you. I want to take you to my bed.”

Penelope took in a sharp breath. “No.” She shook her head furiously. “Don’t say that.”

“My little scientist. You think if I don’t say the words, the feelings and desires will go away? It doesn’t work like that. You have kept me on the edge for weeks.”

He eased back a curl that had come lose from her topknot. “I don’t just want to take you to bed. I want to take you to the theater, to the museum, on picnics and rides in the park.”

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” He released her to run his fingers through his hair. “Dear God, I don’t know.”

She shook her head, lips tightened.

Drake ran his palms up her arms, noting the goose bumps that arose from his touch. She looked so sweet, so vulnerable. He just wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. Take her away from the dirt and noise of the city and back to the country, where the air was as fresh and clean as she was.

Before she could back away and return to the ballroom, he leaned down and scattered soft kisses under her ear, along her jaw, murmuring words of encouragement. After a minute, her muscles relaxed, and when she whimpered, it was all he needed to pull her closer, his hand gliding over the slight muscles of her back to her waist, and then below to caress her rounded bottom.

She was all curves and soft delectable warmth. He could get lost in her for hours. Kiss every inch of her body, and then bring her to a release that would shatter them both. In his arms, she felt right, as if she’d always belonged there.

No longer fighting him, she moved even closer, her hands edging up his chest to encircle his neck. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair, twisting, tugging. Drake shifted and moved his hand to caress her breast, and his blood soared. His thumb skimmed over her nipple, which beaded in his palm. The heat from her body warmed him further, driving him to a fevered pitch.

Groaning with pleasure, he pulled away from her lips and nuzzled her neck, inhaling her heady scent. He nibbled on her ear lobe, then ran his tongue around the delicate shell, stopping to nip, then lightly suck on the lobe. He grew hard and swollen, needing this woman beneath him, naked and writhing with pleasure, calling his name. His finger slid under the sleeve of her gown, and eased it off her shoulder, revealing the tops of her plump breasts. A quick flip of his hand and her breasts burst from her stays, alabaster white, with a dusky rose nipple, pouting, begging for his mouth.

He was almost brought to his knees by the sight of Penelope, with her hair falling to her shoulders, and her breasts illuminated by moonlight. She gasped and his lips once again took hers as his palm rotated, and teased her nipple. Her response was immediate, and he was lost in the passion of her innocent arousal.

“Oh my goodness!” The feminine screech brought him to his senses. Drake tugged up Penelope’s sleeves, spun around, and pulled her close to his side.

Lady Nelson and Lady Beauchamp, two of the ton’s most notorious gossips, and close friends of Lady Sirey, stood not ten feet from them, glaring in indignation.

“What is the meaning of this, Manchester?” Lady Nelson pulled herself up, her bosom quivering with righteousness.

His hesitation was slight. “My lady. So pleasant to see you both here. You are just in time to offer your congratulations. Miss Clayton has just done me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage. I’m sure you will wish us happy.”

…

Penelope felt the blood leave her face as she slumped against Drake, black dots dancing in her eyes. Dear God, what had just happened? The loud buzzing in her ears was not a good sign. “I think I’m going to faint.”

Drake looked sharply at her, and moved them to a bench. “Here, sit and put your head down.” He lowered her head and rubbed her back. “It will pass in a minute.”

She shook her head furiously, attempting to take deep breaths, but only sucking in the soft fabric of her gown. Why was she always in danger of being smothered when Drake attempted to help her?

As much as she longed to stay in the dark garden forever, once the black dots disappeared, she eased her head up. “I’m feeling a bit better now.”

He studied her for a moment, then reached out. “Here, let me set you to rights.” Drake adjusted her gown, smoothed her hair back, and righted her spectacles, leaving her feeling like a child being readied for church by her nanny. Giving her an encouraging smile, he rose and presented his elbow, which she clutched like a lifeline.

The two matrons had remained outside the ballroom door like hunters expecting their quarry to escape.

Penelope turned to Drake. “I don’t think I can do this.” She barely understood her own words, her trembling voice a misery of fear.

“You can, and you will. Chin up, Miss Clayton. Take a deep breath and put a smile on your face.”

“You are joking, of course.”

“There is nothing funny about the looks on the guardians of virtue.” He nodded toward the women at the door.

When the small group entered the ballroom, the ladies cleared the area simply by casting looks at those who would stand in their way. Once they had enough attention, Lady Beauchamp’s voice rose above the chatter. “I believe His Grace has an announcement to make.”

Clearing his throat, Drake pulled Penelope closer to his side, and cast her a smile. Despite the nightmare they were in, Penelope warmed at the tenderness and warmth in Drake’s eyes. The man should take to the stage. With his acting abilities he would go far.

“I would like to present my future duchess. Miss Clayton has just granted me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage.”

Gasps from marriage minded mamas joined murmured congratulations and well wishes. The rumble started near them, and continued through the ballroom, like a wave on the ocean.

Bile rose to the back of Penelope’s throat. She fought it down, horrified that she might disgrace herself further. She held so tightly to Drake’s arm the poor man would probably be bruised in the morning.

“Buck up,” he whispered.

Her Grace hurried up to them, a wide smile on her face, her arms extended. She immediately embraced Penelope in a hug. “I am so thrilled. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.” Then she hugged her son as well. “This is probably the best decision you have ever made.”

While Penelope tried to absorb all that had just happened, she glanced to her left, directly into Lady Sirey’s eyes. The glint in those orbs, along with the snarl on her lips, chilled her more than the discovery in the garden. She edged closer to Drake, who squeezed her hand.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, and then said, “I am a bit fatigued. Do you suppose we could leave soon?”

“Right away.” He caught his mother’s attention, who was speaking to Lady Beauchamp. “My fiancée is feeling fatigued. If you wish to stay longer, I can send the carriage back for you.”

“No, I think not. I am tired myself. Why don’t you send for the carriage, and I will gather up the girls?”

Relieved to finally be away from the numerous comments and looks cast in her direction, Penelope kept her eyes downcast as they made their way through the ballroom. Several times they were stopped to accept congratulations. But Penelope heard the rumblings about their surprise announcement. No one was fooled. This was a forced engagement, and she was sick to her stomach.