The Duke's Quandary (21 page)

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Authors: Callie Hutton

Tags: #duke, #bluestocking, #Scandalous, #entangled publishing, #Entangled Scandalous, #Regency, #ugly duckling, #Forced marriage, #scientist, #ton, #Historical Romance, #botany, #opposites attract

BOOK: The Duke's Quandary
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“Your Grace, please. Your Grace, may I have a word?” The reporter tapped on Drake’s shoulder.

Dragging his lips from her, he turned and eyed the man. “Yes. What is it?”

“I’d like to talk to your wife. This is a major story. She fooled a lot of people, and I’m sure there will be some consequences.”

Drake hugged her close to his side. “My wife will be happy to speak to you at our home.” Then he stopped and turned to Penelope. “Is that all right, my love? After all, you are the award recipient.”

Penelope beamed at him. “That will be quite acceptable.” She turned to the reporter. “You may call in the morning. Shall we say, ten o’clock?”

“I’ll be there. Thank you.” Fletcher snapped his notebook closed and hurried from the room.

The table full of women in the corner watched Drake and Penelope with bemused expressions as the dowager duchess fumbled in her reticule for her handkerchief.


Sweaty and panting from their recent love making, Drake drew Penelope onto his chest and brushed her hair back. “How does it feel to be a recognized scientist?”

“I still can’t believe you did that.” She drew lazy circles around his navel.

He put two fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. “And it’s too bad they still won’t let you in the Society.”

She shrugged. “But thanks to you, I at least got to keep the plaque.”

“Only because I protected it with my life.” He grinned.

“Yes, you did have to almost do battle to get us and the plaque out of the building.” She sighed. “I love you, Your Grace.”

“And I love you too, Your Grace.”

Epilogue

November, 1814

Northampton, England

“Sweetheart, I think we should skip the assembly dance and spend a quiet evening at home.” Drake took in the dark circles under Penelope’s eyes as she rubbed her slightly rounded belly. “You appear quite fatigued.”

“No. I’m fine. The doctor said light exercise is good for the baby and me.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned toward her ear. “I can think of other ways we can entertain ourselves if we stay home. And provide exercise, too.” He slid his hand up to cup her breast, kneading gently.

She purred, resting her back against his hardness.

Once they’d returned to Manchester Manor at the end of July, with his mother and sisters in tow, her continuing queasy stomach and unusual fatigue had increased. Finally, the dowager duchess had pulled his wife aside and enlightened her. Whereupon, Penelope had taken no time at all to make the announcement to him. He was to be a father sometime in March.

Although he had relented and, in fact, now encouraged Penelope to continue with her scientific studies, he had drawn the line at her crawling around in the dirt in her condition. So now he followed her about several times a week, toting her journal and magnifying glass and digging in the dirt in her place. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he found himself looking forward to their jaunts.

Despite it being somewhat shameful, he’d also insisted she wear men’s trousers as they worked in the woods. The thought of her tripping and falling on her long skirts terrified him.

He gave her a quick kiss on the soft skin of her neck and released her at the sound of his mother coming down the corridor. She entered the room in a swirl of purple silk and immediately made for Penelope. He studied her while she stood arm-in-arm with his wife, sharing confidences and chuckling at some humorous comment she’d made.

How he ever thought anyone but Penelope would fit as his duchess constantly amazed him. At one point he’d actually uttered a silent prayer of thanks that Lady Nelson and Lady Beauchamp had come upon them in the garden.

“Are we all ready?” Marion glided into the room in a cerulean blue gown with matching slippers and a deeper blue feather in her hair.

He savored the joy of having his eldest sister back with them. Thanks to Penelope—another miracle his wife had bestowed on his family. Marion had taken to joining them in the activities the family pursued. She’d also lost her gaunt, sad look, and he hoped sometime in the future she would find another man to love.

Love. Something that he no longer scoffed at.

Drake extended his arm to Penelope, and they joined the others at the door.


The dance was well underway when Penelope arrived with the rest of the family. This was her first dance in the country, and upon entry she noted a difference from London balls. Even though everyone was dressed appropriately, and in similar gowns and headpieces as the more formal gatherings in Town, the atmosphere held a more cordial air. Conversation was louder, and interaction between the attendees friendlier.

Drake had told her the strictures of propriety were just as compelling as in London, and in some ways even more so, since the waltz was not allowed here. It seemed country folk still deemed that dance scandalous. The girls were younger at this dance, as well, since parents used the country assemblies to introduce their daughters to social life several months before they made their formal come out.

“I’ll settle you in a seat by the window, and then I’ll fetch you a glass of lemonade.” Drake spoke to her above the noise of the crowd and herded them through, gripping her elbow and using his arm to ease a pathway between the packed bodies. She grinned at how solicitous he’d been since they’d discovered she was increasing.

Apparently word had spread throughout the county, also, since they were stopped and congratulated time and again until they finally made their way across the ballroom. Due to the dowager duchess’s lack of formality here in the country, the family was well-liked, in addition to being held in high regard. Most of Drake’s former childhood playmates greeted him with warmth and acceptance.

“I will sit with you a while. My sisters are already filling up their dance cards.” Marion smoothed her skirts out as she settled on the wooden bench next to Penelope. The dowager duchess had joined a group of women along another wall, happily chatting away. From the glances her mother-in-law threw her, there was no doubt the subject matter of her conversation had to do with her expected grandchild.

“Here is your drink, sweetheart.” Drake had returned and held out a glass of yellow liquid. “Can I get you something, Marion?”

“No thank you.”

Penelope took a sip of her lemonade and wrinkled her nose. “Warm.”

Drake took a seat next to her, and scanned the room. “I see Mary is already dancing.” He looked further afield and frowned. “Who is that gentleman speaking with Abigail? I don’t recognize him.”

“I don’t, either.” Marion moved her head to get a better look at them.

“He seems to be more than somewhat friendly with her.” He studied them for a minute, and then rose. “I will return shortly.” He circled a line of dancers and headed straight to his sister.

Marion and Penelope exchanged amused glances. Drake took his responsibilities toward his family very seriously.

“How are you feeling?” Marion asked.

“Fine. At least the sickness in the morning has stopped. And I’m not sure, but I think I felt the baby move the other day.”

“How exciting!”

“Yes, it is. I just wish your brother would stop following me around. I don’t mind so much when I’m doing my work in the garden area, but he watches me like a hawk everywhere I go.”

“He loves you.”

Penelope nodded, a sense of Drake’s love wrapping her in warmth. What a strange twist her life had taken. She had arrived in London a terrified and unsure young girl. One who had no intention of getting married, only looking forward to scooting back to the country to continue her science.

Instead, she was a married woman, loved by her husband, yet still back in the country and pursuing her love of botany. Soon there would be a child to add to their happiness.

Love. She glanced across the room to see Drake very much involved in a conversation with the young man standing alongside Abigail. The poor gentleman looked a bit uncomfortable. How she loved the man who had sworn he would never marry for love.

Yes, life does take some twists and turns.

Her hand flew to her stomach as a slight fluttering drew her attention and a smile broke out on her face.

Author’s Note

The Linnean Society of London is the world’s oldest active biological society. Founded in 1788, the Society takes its name from the Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778) whose botanical, zoological, and library collections have been in its keeping since 1829. (1)

Author Beatrix Potter wrote a scientific paper in 1897, which was presented to the Linnean on her behalf by a man; as a woman, Beatrix herself was not allowed to present the paper, or even attend. (2)

Although women were not permitted membership during the time this novel takes place, in 1905 women were finally able to take their rightful place alongside the men. (3)

(1)
http://www.linnean.org/The-Society

(2)
http://www.linnean.org/The-Society/societynews/Beatrix_Potter

(3)
http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=F20B10FC3D5A12738DDDAB0994DA405B858CF1D3

Acknowledgements

A huge thank you to my editor, Erin McCormack Molta, who makes my books so much better than when they hit her desk.

Accolades to my awesome critique partner, Char Chaffin.

Lastly, I cannot thank the lovely ladies of the Beau Monde RWA group enough for answering my innumerable questions about the Regency era. And with lightning speed, also.

About the Author

Callie has been making up stories since elementary school, and writing gave her a way to turn off the voices in her head.  She’s had a number of articles and interviews published, and three years ago, put her writing skills to the test and wrote her first novel.

Oklahoma is where she hangs her hat with her husband of thirty-six years, two young adult children, and three dogs.

You can catch her hanging out at
Facebook
,
Twitter- @CallieHutton
, and her home base,
www.calliehutton.com
.

Stop by sometime and say hello.

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