“You’re certain?”
Gabriel eyed him steadily. “You’ve seen me foxed. Both of you have,” he said evenly, glancing between him and Michael. “Have I ever taken leave of my senses entirely?”
Both Michael and Rafael shook their heads without hesitation.
“Hand me my trousers,” he said to Rafael then, motioning to the upholstered bench where he’d deposited his clothing the night before.
His brother did as requested, retrieving the breeches and then tossing them to Gabriel as he rose naked from the bed.
Tugging on his pants, Gabriel frowned, shifting his gaze back to the bed. If he had consumed an entire bottle of brandy it would explain why he hadn’t noted her presence in his bed, he supposed. “She must have slipped into the room while I slept,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Rafael’s brow furrowed. “Even so, if she didn’t wake you then what is she still doing here?”
Gabriel clenched his jaw, his features growing taut as he met his brother’s gaze.
Rafael’s expression was incredulous. “You don’t think…?
“Can you think of another reason?” he demanded, his mood growing darker by the second.
Rafael splayed his hands uncertainly at his sides.
“Regardless of how it happened, we’ve got to get her out of here,” Michael quickly interjected.
“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Rafael retorted with a dubious shake of his head. “Beckford and his wife are likely searching the halls for her as we speak.”
“True,” Michael acknowledged with a doleful expression. “It will be no easy task, for even if we could manage to avoid Lord and Lady Beckford, the halls are crawling with servants. Someone’s bound to see her exiting Gabe’s chamber,” he continued bleakly.
“Moreover, if she did plan this,” Rafael added, casting a sidelong glance toward Penelope, “she’s not likely to go quietly.”
“Well we need to do something,” Michael asserted in an anxious whisper, “and we need to do it with all haste.”
“Bloody hell!” Gabriel swore under his breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
Michael and Rafael stood silently then, their troubled faces mirroring one another’s as they looked to Gabriel for direction.
“What of the other guests?” Gabriel queried. “Are they aware of the situation?”
“I’m not sure,” Michael responded uncertainly. “I think most of them have already gone down to breakfast.”
Looking to the bed, Gabriel studied the young woman lying amongst the tangled bedsheets for several long seconds, silently cursing himself for a fool. “Michael,” he said finally, turning back to his brothers with a long, heavy sigh of resignation, “go and find the earl.”
Michael’s eyebrows shot upward.
“Gabe!” Rafael exclaimed.
Gabriel raised his hand, forestalling further comment. “Fetch him, Michael.”
His brother eyed him solemnly. “What do you want me to tell him?”
“Don’t tell him anything other than that I wish to speak with him,” Gabriel instructed. Michael hesitated, glancing to Rafael and then back to Gabriel before responding with a dispirited nod. “As you wish,” he said after a moment, his expression reconciled.
As Michael left the room, Rafael retrieved Gabriel’s discarded shirt from the night before and handed it to him. “Are you sure about this, Gabe?”
Taking the shirt, Gabriel slipped his arms into the sleeves and then reached to fasten the pearl buttons. “I’ve known Beckford a long time. If I explain the situation to him… if he can be convinced that I am blameless in this…” he motioned ineffectually toward the bed. “Perhaps he’ll see reason.”
“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Rafael scoffed, his expression dubious.
Though he didn’t respond, silently working the buttons of his shirt, Gabriel understood all too well that the odds were not in his favor.
“Perhaps Lady Beckford it would be best if you were to wait in your chamber while the earl speaks with my brother,” Michael suggested, glancing anxiously between the couple as they neared Gabriel’s door.
While the earl nodded in agreement, the countess balked. “I most certainly will not,” she stated with an indignant expression.
“Lord Michael is correct,” the earl replied, turning to his wife. “I think it would be best if you waited in our room whilst I find out exactly what it is that the duke wishes to speak with me about.”
The countess shook her head, her expression obstinate. “If this concerns Penelope, then I-”
Beckford raised his hand, effectively silencing his wife with a stern, quelling look.
For a moment it appeared as if the countess intended to argue the point. However, gazing upon her husband’s firm, unyielding countenance, she apparently thought better of it. “As you wish, my lord,” she replied, though her clipped tone was a clear indication of her considerable displeasure. Then, with a last lingering glance at the duke’s door, she pursed her lips, turned and walked stiffly back to the room she and her husband had been assigned.
Waiting until the countess had entered her chamber and the heavy, wooden portal had shut firmly behind her, Michael knocked lightly upon his brother’s door.
Rafael opened it a second later and then moved to the side, allowing Michael and the earl to enter as Gabriel stepped forward, effectively blocking the earl’s view of the bed.
“Beckford,” Gabriel greeted unsmilingly.
The earl eyed him warily. “Your brother said you wished to speak with me?”
“Yes, I’m afraid that I do.”
Beckford cast a brief, uncertain glance between Rafael and Michael. “What is this about, Ainsworth?” he demanded, returning his focus to Gabriel.
“Michael, Rafael, would you leave us please,” Gabriel instructed. “I would like to speak with the earl privately.”
Michael hesitated, and then asked, “Are you certain that’s wise?”
Gabriel nodded; and a moment later his brothers walked silently from the room, pulling the door closed behind them.
Once they were alone, the earl pinned him with a sharp, penetrating gaze. “Well?”
“You and I have known each other a long time, Beckford, have we not?” Gabriel began, regarding the earl earnestly.
“We have,” he agreed.
“And in that time, I hope that you have come to regard me as a man of both honor and integrity.”
Beckford’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he nodded in agreement. “You’ve done nothing to suggest otherwise.”
“In that case, it is my sincerest hope that you will accept what I say to you now is nothing but the God’s honest truth,” Gabriel stated quietly.
The earl stiffened perceptibly, his chin raising just a notch as he waited for Gabriel to continue.
“On my honor, I had absolutely nothing to do with the situation I found myself in upon waking just a short while ago.”
The earl’s eyes were locked upon Gabriel’s. “And exactly what situation would that be?”
Stepping to the side Gabriel motioned toward the bed, giving the earl an unobstructed view of his daughter’s sleeping form.
“Penelope!” Beckford gasped, staring at his daughter in shocked disbelief.
“I swear to you that I never touched your daughter,” Gabriel avowed. “Nor do I have the slightest notion as to how she came to be in my room,” he continued. “All I do know is that she was lying there asleep when I awoke.”
The earl turned his gaze back to Gabriel incredulously. “You cannot honestly expect me to believe that.”
“As a matter of fact I can and I do,” Gabriel affirmed, his tone staunch and unwavering. “I had nothing to do with this, Beckford, and that is the truth.”
The earl stood silent and unmoving as he studied Gabriel’s face for several long seconds, before ultimately turning back to his daughter. Then, in several long strides he crossed the room, sto
pping beside the bed, his eyes focused intently upon his daughter’s sleeping face.
“Penelope,” he uttered quietly. When she failed to respond he reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “Penelope.”
This time she stirred, turning her head to the side as she emitted a soft, breathy sigh.
“Penelope,” the earl said again, louder this time.
Hearing the sound of her father’s voice, Penelope slowly came awake, struggling against the sleep-induced haze that held her in its grasp as she blinked once, twice and then finally managed to open her heavy eyelids. “Papa?” she said, blinking in confusion. “What is it? Is something wrong?” she asked, her muddled thoughts trying to make sense of her father’s unexpected presence in her room.
When her father said nothing in reply, staring down at her instead with an odd, pained expression upon his face, Penny’s heart seemed to clench tightly within her chest. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Sitting up, she clutched the bedsheet to her chest, gripped by a sudden and overwhelming sense of dread. “What’s happened? Is it Charlie?” she asked, forgetting in her bewildered state that they weren’t home at Beckford Hall.
“Charlie?” Her father shook his head, eyeing her peculiarly now. “No, your brother is fine, Penelope.”
“Oh thank Heavens,” she exclaimed, exhaling a huge sigh of relief. But her relief was short-lived for clearly something was amiss else her father wouldn’t be standing there, looking at her so strangely. “But something is wrong, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously.
Her father regarded her searchingly, hesitating a moment before he asked, “Penelope, what are you doing in here?”
What was she doing in here? In her bedchamber? Her father’s question was completely nonsensical. “Papa, whatever do you mean?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “I was doing naught but sleeping, of course.”
“Sleeping here, in the Duke of Ainsworth’s chamber?”
Penny’s eyes went wide, utterly taken aback by her father’s question. “The duke’s chamber? Papa, what on earth are you-” The remainder of her question hung in the air, for as she spoke her eyes had moved from her father’s face to survey her present surroundings.
Scanning the room she quickly realized that everything was wrong, the furnishings, the wallpaper, the position of the windows and the color of the draperies, nothing within her chamber was as it should be. But no, of course it wasn’t, because she wasn’t at Beckford Hall; she was in Scotland, at Gilchrist Castle she recalled as her thoughts finally began to clear. But…the setting, it was still…wrong. This was not the room she’d gone to sleep in the night before. And as her head slowly continued to swivel, her father’s words repeated themselves within her head, here, in the Duke of Ainsworth’s bedchamber. It was just then that her gaze alighted upon the man standing across the room regarding her through cold, assessing eyes, his expression cold and austere.
Penny gasped, clutching the sheet more tightly against her chest. “No, this can’t be,” she exclaimed. “I…I don’t understand.” She turned back to her father in alarm. “How did I get here?”
For a moment her father appeared just as bewildered as she was. “You don’t know?”
“No. I…” Penny shook her head, trying desperately to recall the events of the night before as tears sprung to her eyes. “This makes no sense, for I was in my own chamber last night. I went to sleep in my own bed. I didn’t…I don’t… Papa, please, this cannot be,” she uttered in dismay as tears sprung suddenly to her eyes.
“Unfortunately it can and it is,” the duke said, breaking his silence. “For here you are,” he continued frostily. “What I want to know is why?”
Penny turned to him, noting both anger and enmity in his accusing stare. “But, I…” she shook her head once again, “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” he countered, his tone harsh and accusing.
Penny flinched. “No. I swear to you, Your Grace, that I do not know why I am here, or how I got to be here.”
“Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed. “Of course you-”
“That’s enough, Ainsworth!” the earl interrupted tersely. “I shall handle this.”
With no small degree of effort, Gabriel clamped his lips shut.
“My daughter is not a liar. If she says she doesn’t know how she got here, then she does not know,” he professed, before turning back to Penelope.
His expression softening, Penny’s father studied her intently. “Last night, my dear, what is the very last thing you remember?”
Brushing a lone crystal droplet from her cheek, Penny took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm as she thought back to the night before. “I recall getting into bed,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “Initially I had thought to read for a short while, as I do most nights, but the hour was late and I was overtired. So instead, I set the book aside, turned out the lamp and… went to sleep,” she continued, furrowing her brow. “Honestly, that is the very last thing I remember before waking just now.” She regarded her father beseechingly. “Please, Papa, you must believe me, for I swear it is the truth.”
The earl pressed his hand to her cheek, wiping away a second teardrop with his thumb. “I do believe you, Penelope.”
Listening as Penelope spoke to her father Gabriel was caught completely off guard, for he’d expected the girl to begin hurling accusations at his head, insisting to the earl that he’d seduced her into his bed. He’d prepared himself for that and could defend himself against that. But this? Not once had he considered that she would profess to have not the slightest memory of entering his room, or his bed, for the notion was utterly preposterous! So why make such a claim then? Unless… Ah hell! Unless her supposed lack of memory was just a calculated ploy, a means to get what she wanted without having to condemn herself in her father’s eyes, or to compel him to refute such assertions and proclaim her a liar. By God if that was her intent it was brilliant, he realized, for clearly her father adored her and was more than willing to believe anything she said, even something as absurdly far-fetched as her having no memory of entering his room. Yet there she was… in his bed…with the ramifications being all the same.
Damn and blast! Watching in growing consternation as the earl wiped another tear from his daughter’s cheek, Gabriel recognized with a sudden, sickening feeling that in all likelihood this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him. Lord what a performance he thought in disgust, for if he didn’t know better he might well have thought the teary-eyed girl with the deathly pallor and trembling lips naught but a frightened child who’d just awoken from a nightmare. God’s teeth, with talent like that the girl could likely put the most talented of stage actresses to shame. Nevertheless, he wasn’t ready to surrender quite yet. “You say you were overtired,” he said, causing the earl and his daughter to look his way. “Was there a reason that you were more tired than usual, other than the lateness of the hour, that is?”
Lady Penelope eyed him curiously. “I… I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Did you consume an excessive amount of champagne, by chance? Or take a sleeping draught before retiring, perchance? Something of that sort, something that might have contributed to your being overtired, or may have adversely affected your memory of the night’s events?”
Penny shook her head. “No, I’ve never taken a sleeping potion,” she asserted. “And while I did drink champagne last night, the amount was hardly excessive.”
“And what amount would you consider excessive, Lady Penelope?”
“Ainsworth,” the earl interjected in a cautionary tone.
“I mean no disrespect,” Gabriel replied stiffly. “I assure you I am merely trying to ascertain what might have caused Lady Penelope’s lack of memory.”
Penny didn’t miss the thinly-veiled skepticism in the duke’s tone at his mention of her lack of memory, though she could hardly fault him for it when she couldn’t scarce begin to understand it herself. “I had no more tha
n three glasses throughout the entire evening, Your Grace,” she replied truthfully.
“Do you have a history of walking about in your sleep, by chance?”
Penny hesitated a moment, cast a quick glance toward her father and then shook her head. “No, I… not that I know of.”
“So, it is a complete mystery then as to how you came to be in my bed this morning?”
Penny’s stomach dropped, for she knew what he was thinking. “You believe I planned this, don’t you? That I deliberately snuck into your room and into your bed?” she questioned in mounting horror.
Gabriel pinned her with his unflinching gaze. “Did you?” he demanded.
“No!”
He snorted in disbelief, shaking his head.
“Ainsworth, you go too far!” The earl stated angrily.
“You and I both know where this is headed, Beckford,” the duke retorted. “You cannot expect me to simply accept it with naught but good grace, especially as this abysmal situation was brought about through no fault of my own.”
“She is my daughter,” the earl stated simply, his tone uncompromising. “What else would you have me do?”
“What if we were able to keep the matter quiet?” Gabriel suggested
“Quiet?”
“As of right now the only other people who know of your daughter’s current whereabouts are my two brothers and the three of us here, and I can guarantee you that neither Rafael or Michael will breathe so much as a word of this to anyone.”
“While I have no doubt that your brothers would maintain their silence, how can you be certain that no one else knows of Penelope’s whereabouts?” the earl countered. “Can you guarantee me that no one saw my daughter enter your room last night when not even the two of you seem to know how she ended up here?”
Meeting the earl’s questioning gaze, Gabriel sighed in frustration. “No, that I cannot do,” he grudgingly acknowledged.
“Then what choice do you leave me?”
To Capture a Duke's Heart Page 11