To Capture a Duke's Heart

by Jennifer McNare

  “Yes, but-”

  “But what?” he demanded. “What is there to say, unless of course you are about to tell me that you have suddenly regained your memory of that night’s events?” he continued. “If that is the case, however, then please, by all means do tell.”

  Penny exhaled a weary sigh. “No. I haven’t.”

  He eyed her disparagingly. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Stiffening, Penny struggled to recall her father’s advice. He is a good man, Penny. He may be angry now, but give him time and he will undoubtedly discover the truth of your nature and the genuineness of your character for himself. “I assure you, Your Grace, that I do not consider myself blameless in this. I was in your bed; the fact is indisputable. But while I may not remember how I got there, I do know that I would never have done such a thing deliberately,” she stated with quiet conviction. “I can only hope that someday you will come to accept the truth of my words, as well as the truth of my character, for yourself.”

  “A pretty speech, my dear, but it has long been my experience that one’s actions speak far louder than their words.”

  Penny gritted her teeth in exasperation. “Are you so unwilling to give me even the slightest benefit of the doubt?”

  He said nothing in reply, allowing his pointed silence to speak for him.

  “So this is how it is to be then?” Penny questioned dispiritedly. “In public you shall play the doting husband,” she continued, motioning to the necklace he still held in his hand, “whilst in private you shall hold me in naught but unremitting contempt?”

  Gabriel’s expression was impassive. “If you expected otherwise, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

  Actually, she hadn’t expected otherwise. Regrettably, however, hope and expectation were two very different things.

  For several long moments she and Gabriel simply stared at one another in silence, neither of them moving, until slowly, reaching upward, Penny moved to untie the silk ribbon from around her neck. When it was free she allowed it to fall gently into her lap and then shifted on her seat, sliding several inches to her right before turning sideways to face the wall. She felt the added sway of the coach a few seconds later as Gabriel rose from the opposite seat and then felt the soft brush of his hands as he placed the circle of precious stones around her neck and fastened the clasp.

  She waited until he returned to his own seat before turning back around, the weight of the necklace, much like her wedding ring, resting heavily upon her skin as they traversed the remaining distance to the theatre in silence.

  Despite the unpleasantness that had transpired between her and Gabriel within the confines of the coach just a short while ago, Penny couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of excitement as they entered into the lobby of the famed Theatre Royal at Drury Lane. For while she had attended a handful of small, outdoor performances put on by various play-acting troupes passing through the village near Beckford Hall, she’d never been to an actual theatre or witnessed a full-scale stage production.

  Glancing about, her eyes darted eagerly to and fro as she surveyed the opulence that surrounded her, from the enormous, crystal chandeliers that hung suspended from the high ceiling to the Venetian mosaic floors, silk wallpapers, ornate, gilded plasterwork, massive, gold-framed mirrors hanging upon the walls and the two large, sweeping, marble-stepped staircases with their elaborately carved Cherrywood railings that rose majestically to the theatre’s upper tiers. Captivated as she was by her surroundings, she scarcely noticed the sudden hush that had fallen over the small crowd milling about the lobby as she moved forward on Gabriel’s arm, or the frenzied whispers that immediately followed as one head after another swiveled in their direction.

  Gabriel, however, was all too aware of the concentrated interest their sudden presence had drawn, though he maintained an air of unperturbed nonchalance, merely nodding politely to those he recognized amongst the wide-eyed onlookers as he directed Penelope toward the east staircase. And even as they made their way up the steps, on route to the upper gallery where he maintained his private box, he could almost feel the continued weight of their animated stares as they followed him and Penelope with their eyes.

  Of course, the moment they were ushered through the curtains of his box by one of the numerous theatre attendants they were likewise assailed by the curious, upturned gazes of those seated down below, as the news of their arrival swept swiftly from the lobby to those individuals who had already taken their seats within the house.

  “Champagne, Your Grace?” the uniformed attendant queried, as Gabriel led Penelope to her seat at the front of the box.

  Turning to the attendant, he tipped his head the slightest fraction before taking his own seat next to Penelope. He watched her then, noting with increasing fascination as her eyes flitted excitedly from one thing to the next, alighting briefly upon the red-curtained stage, the orchestra pit, the high, domed ceiling and surrounding boxes in obvious delight, a refreshing change from the decorous, blasé expressions so commonly affected by his peers. And despite their earlier contretemps, he couldn’t help but find her enthusiasm infectious and soon found himself gazing upon his surroundings with a renewed and markedly-heightened level of interest.

  It was only when Penelope leaned forward to peer over the front of the box a short while later that her expression altered dramatically. “Good Heavens, everyone is staring at us,” she uttered in a hushed voice, promptly leaning back into her seat.

  “Yes, they are,” Gabriel retorted dryly.

  “I suppose I should have expected as much,” she murmured, seeming to shrink even further into the back of her chair.

  Gabriel eyed her curiously for a moment, for oddly enough, considering the lengths to which she’d gone to become the next Duchess of Ainsworth, she seemed less than eager to flaunt her newly-acquired title.

  “Your champagne, Your Grace.”

  He turned from Penelope, reaching to lift the pair of crystal champagne flutes from the attendant’s tray.

  “Is there anything else that I may assist you with, Your Grace?” the man queried politely.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Not at this time, no.”

  “Very well, Your Grace,” he replied with a bow. “Enjoy the performance.”

  Turning back to Penelope, he handed her one of the glasses.

  “Thank you,” she replied softly, taking a small sip before returning her gaze back toward the unoccupied stage.

  Sipping her champagne, Penny tried to calm her rioting nerves and did her best to ignore the repeated glances cast her way by the various occupants of the other boxes, silently praying that the performance would soon begin and serve to redirect their attention. Thus it was with an enormous sense of relief when she noted the lights flicker, indicating for those who hadn’t already done so to take their seats, as the first act was about to get underway. And when the lights dimmed a short time later and the curtains slowly parted, she felt her nervousness fall quickly by the wayside as her concentration became riveted upon the stage.

  In fact, so captivated was she by the scene unfolding before her that she quite forgot about her prior conversation with Gabriel, and that the man sitting next to her all but despised her, as she turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, isn’t it marvelous,” she exclaimed, smiling in unabashed pleasure, before quickly returning her attention to the spectacular stage setting and the brilliantly-costumed performers. Then she watched, utterly captivated, as the beloved tale she’d read time and again over the years, was brought to life upon the stage.

  Alas, it was only when the curtains fell closed once again at the start of the first intermission that she was finally able to tear her rapt gaze from the mesmerizing production. Blinking as the houselights were raised, Penny realized only then that having been so entranced by the performance that she’d shifted forward in her seat to the point that she was now sitting perched upon the very front edge of her chair.

  “I take it that you ar
e enjoying the performance, thus far?” Gabriel queried with a discerning glance as she failed in her attempt to slide unobtrusively backwards upon her seat.

  Penny turned to him with a slight, discomfited smile. “I expect that my rather ardent appreciation of the production is not quite the thing,” she replied self-consciously.

  “Amongst the practiced ennui of our supercilious peers, I fear not,” he acknowledged somewhat ruefully. “For one’s attendance at the theatre, the opera and other such venues, is far often more based upon the desire to see and to be seen, than it is to enjoy the performance, especially during the Season. ‘Tis a shame, however,” he continued with a thoughtful expression, “for your candid enjoyment has served to remind me of just how easy it is for those amongst our exceedingly-privileged class, me included, to take some of the truest and oft-times simplest of pleasures for granted.”

  Penny regarded him in surprise, for she had wholly expected Gabriel to remark upon her behavior with disdain. Thus, his unexpected and ostensibly genuine approbation caught her completely off-guard. And unbidden, her father’s words echoed within her head, just as they had earlier. He’s a good man. Give him time. And despite her good sense and her efforts to tamp it down, she felt that tiny flicker of hope spark to life once again. The hope that maybe, just maybe, the man who had captivated her so effortlessly, not only with his handsome face, but with his winsome personality and inherent charm, would reveal himself to her once again.

  Then, rising swiftly to his feet, almost as if he was suddenly uncomfortable with the admission he’d just made, he held out his hand and said dispassionately, “Come, we should stretch our legs before the start of the next act.”

  Chapter 13

  The following week Gabriel and Penny made their second public appearance, attending a performance of Handel’s Rodelinda at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, where their presence had been greeted with much the same level of attention and whispered speculation as it had garnered upon their visit to the theatre. Unlike their initial outing, however, there had been no marked unpleasantness between them as they’d journeyed to the opera house, nor upon any other occasion throughout the evening. In fact, it had been a most enjoyable outing, for she had derived nearly as much pleasure from her first visit to the opera as she had from her attendance at the theatre.

  Moreover, it was her considerable enjoyment of the operatic performance that had her heading in the direction of the library the following afternoon in search of a particular book, one she’d noted upon one of her previous visits, the volume recounting the combined works of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries’ most celebrated composers. Entering into the room a few moments later, she cast her gaze intently upon the densely stocked shelves, struggling to recall the book’s general location. So focused was she on her search, that she failed to note the person sitting upon one of the leather wingchairs near the room’s tall bank of multi-paned windows until a slight cough alerted her to his presence.

  Spinning around, Penny was surprised to see Rafael sitting near the windows, holding a small, leather-bound book within his hands. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she stated apologetically. “I didn’t realize the room was occupied. I’ll come back later,” she continued, turning back toward the door.

  “No, it’s fine,” Rafael said, holding up his hand in a staying motion. “You needn’t go.”

  Penny hesitated. “I wouldn’t wish to disturb your reading.”

  “This,” Rafael glanced nonchalantly at the open book in his hands and then purposefully shut the cover, “it’s nothing of significance. Besides, I was growing bored with it anyhow.” He set the book onto the table next to him and rose to his feet. “You were scanning the shelves rather intently, it seemed,” he remarked, walking toward her. “Were you searching for something in particular?”

  “I was. A book I noticed in passing during one of my previous visits,” she replied, somewhat surprised by Rafael’s congenial attitude. For while he had displayed no overt animosity toward her since her marriage to his brother, the light, easygoing rapport they’d shared in Scotland was certainly a thing of the past. “I was trying to recall where I’d seen it.”

  “The subject?”

  “Composers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”

  “Ah,” Rafael replied with a nod. “Your search prompted by your recent visit to the opera, I would imagine?”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Well, yes, actually.”

  “I take it you enjoyed the experience then?” he queried.

  “Indeed. I enjoyed it immensely,” she affirmed.

  “Handel, was it?”

  “Yes, Rodelinda.”

  “I believe I attended one of his operas last year, though I cannot seem to recall the name off the top of my head,” he stated with a contemplative expression. “Regrettably,” he continued in a rueful tone, “I have never developed the same appreciation for the opera that so many others seem to share.”

  “That’s certainly understandable, for while I personally enjoyed it I can appreciate the particularity of the art form not being to everyone’s taste,” she responded. “Moreover, the world would assuredly be a far less interesting place if we all shared the exact same likes and dislikes. Don’t you think?”

  Rafael eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, and then replied with an amiable grin, “Actually, I couldn’t agree more.”

  Penny smiled back, delighted to note the genuineness reflected in Rafael’s smile. “Speaking of interests,” she said, eager to maintain the sudden affability between them, “I would imagine that one of yours was duly enhanced by the delivery made yesterday afternoon.”

  At the mention of his new mount, Rafael’s expression grew animated, his eyes alighting with pleasure. “Indeed it was,” he affirmed. “I took Kahn out this very morning, in fact.”

  “Riding through the park?”

  He nodded. “Michael and I were up at daybreak so that we could give the horses a solid workout afore the other riders crowded the track.”

  “Just a workout?” Penny inquired with a meaningful look.

  Rafael grinned. “Well, I must confess that there may have been a friendly race or two thrown into the mix.”

  As Penny had expected, Rafael was more than eager to expound upon his and Michael’s initial outing with their prized, new mounts, and to her absolute delight they conversed quite pleasantly for the next quarter hour. It was progress.

  _____

  Penny’s spirits were further buoyed when a soft knock sounded upon the door to her private sitting room later that same day. “Come in,” she called, looking up from the letter she was penning to Eleanor.

  The door swung open a moment later, revealing the presence of the young underfootman, Timothy. “Excuse me, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, Timothy?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Thompkins has asked me to inform you that you have a visitor.”

  “A visitor, for me?” she queried in disbelief, for she hadn’t had a single visitor since her arrival in London.

  “Yes, Your Grace. The Earl of Beckford has come to call,” Timothy apprised her.

  Penny blinked in surprise. “My father?”

  Timothy nodded in the affirmative. “Shall I have Mr. Thompkins inform him that you are at home?”

  “Yes, yes of course,” she replied ardently. “He’s been shown to the front parlor, I presume?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent. Please inform Mr. Thompkins that I will be down straightaway.”

  Then, as Timothy hastened to do her bidding, Penny lifted the unfinished letter from the top of her small writing desk, slid it into the top drawer, checked her fingers for any wayward ink splotches and then rose quickly from her chair.

  “Papa,” she exclaimed a short while later, smiling brightly as she greeted her father. “I wasn’t expecting you in London for another week.” Striding forward she took hold of his outstretched hands and leaned forward to pl
ace an affectionate kiss upon his cheek.

  “Yes, I know. But I thought you might enjoy spending some time with Charlie before the Season officially gets underway.”

  “Of course,” she replied enthusiastically, “for I have missed the little scamp dreadfully.”

  “As he’s missed you,” the earl assured her with a smile. “Thus, it is my hope that our early arrival will afford the two of you some added time together before the Season begins and you become entrenched within the social whirl and have scarce little time on your hands between the inevitable and doubtless unremitting invitations requesting the honor of the new Duchess of Ainsworth’s presence at one Society function or another.”

  Penny quirked her left brow sardonically. “That is assuming, of course, that I am accepted into the ton’s eminent midst, for considering the scandal attached to my name I might just as easily be eschewed from their disparaging ranks,” she rejoined with a good-humored expression, despite her satirical tone.

  The earl regarded her without the least show of concern as he released one of her hands and then led her to the nearby settee, stating confidently, “Fear not, my dear, for I have every confidence that not only will you be welcomed into their midst with open arms, but that you will have them extolling your virtues and clamoring for your favor in no time at all.”

  Penny shrugged. “Time will tell, I suppose.” And in less than a fortnight, at that.

  “Indeed it will,” her father stated with a self-assured smile.

  “Come,” Penny suggested then, “let’s take a stroll through the rear garden and you can catch me up on all that I’ve missed at home these past weeks.”

  “That sounds like a splendid idea,” he said. “And then later, you can tell me all about your first weeks in London.”

  “Agreed,” she replied with a nod.