"Push him in, Miss. That ought to dampen him off again!" a voice cried in jest, and Penrith relinquished his hold on Charlotte.
"Yes, your Grace, I might have to push you in if you continue to ravish my friend so publicly," Julia cautioned in a whisper, as she edged toward the pair.
"A special license will remedy matters," Penrith replied, his eyes locked on Charlotte's, "In fact, once I deliver Miss Drew home, I will set forth straightaway for the Archbishop's palace and procure one."
"Might I suggest a bath first?" Julia said with a sigh, but even the ice-cold Lady Julia could not keep the smile from her lips as she took in the pair of love-struck fools before her.
Penrith looked down at himself, seeing for the first time what his dip in the pond had done to his attire. His clothes were covered in muck, his breeches stuck to his thighs, his shirt scandalously transparent.
Charlotte gulped; she rather liked this dishevelled version of the duke, but perhaps now was not the time to say.
There would be plenty of time to tell him just how much she had enjoyed the view once they were wed.
"Excuse me, your Grace," the voice of the race-master called, "Might we be permitted to begin now?"
"Er. Yes, yes. Carry on," Penrith waved an imperious hand, though the impression was rather ruined by the string of pond-weed which had attached itself to his sleeve.
"Come, let us slip away while no one is watching," Charlotte urged, and as the race began, Charlotte, the duke, and her two friends fled the scene.
Once they had reached the copse where they had left their vehicle, Penrith took command, ushering Violet and Julia into the barouche.
"We shall call for tea in the morning," Violet promised Charlotte, as they clambered inside the carriage.
"Perhaps leave it till the day after," Penrith replied, with a wink, "Miss Drew will be busy preparing for her wedding in the morning."
Two shocked faces greeted Penrith's declaration, but he paid them no heed, he simply waved the carriage away with a careless hand.
In silence, Penrith helped Charlotte into his waiting curricle, before clambering in beside her.
"Are we to be wed in the morning?" she asked, as he urged the horses into a gentle trot. It seemed rather sudden, though given the circumstances of his proposal, it was also rather pertinent. What would her father say when he found out that Charlotte had been ravished by a soaking wet duke in front of a crowd of hundreds? People would already be spreading scandalised whispers the length and breadth of London, she thought nervously.
"Oh, yes," Penrith smiled, "I would marry you now, if I could."
"And I you," Charlotte offered shyly, reaching out to take his free hand.
It felt so right, to be sitting beside him, with her hand in his, facing toward the future together.
"Oh, Lud," Charlotte whacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, as a sudden realisation dawned on her.
"What is it?" Penrith looked momentarily concerned.
"I am going to have to explain all this to my grandmother," Charlotte replied with a laugh, "I will ruin her triumph at having a duchess as a granddaughter when I explain what a scene we made. Though, I suppose she would expect me to ruin things somehow. Why fight against her expectations?"
"You are no longer fighting alone," Penrith replied, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss, "I am here to battle by your side."
"Will you fight for me, even if I start calling you Shuggy-wuggy?" Charlotte wondered idly, seeking to tease him a little.
"You can only push a man so far, my dear."
"Oh, but what fun I will have, seeing how far I can push you, my darling Penrith," she replied with a mischievous smile, which the duke responded to with one of his own, before he drove them on into the sunset.
Epilogue
One Year Later...
Charlotte was seated upon the chaise in the drawing room of Penrith House, with a book in hand. The morning sun shone through the sash-windows, illuminating the splendour of the room's decor and bathing everything in a golden glow.
It had taken Charlotte a few months to become accustomed to the fact that she was now the mistress of this splendid house. And it had taken her just a little bit longer to feel comfortable traversing through the immaculate rooms without feeling like she was going to break or spill something.
But Penrith had helped her immensely with settling into her new role as duchess. He had held her hand when she had accidentally broken a priceless vase, bolstered her spirits whenever she made a social faux pas, and had guided her whenever any issue arose with the staff.
He had not even minded when she had spilt a glass of wine all over the original Thomas Whitty Axminster rug in the library.
"It's just a rug," he had said soothingly, "I expect when we have children they'll add a few stains to it too."
No children had yet arrived to add more stains to anything, a fact which Charlotte had begun to worry about—until recently that is...
"Fancy finding you here," Penrith called across the room, interrupting Charlotte's reverie.
She turned her head to find her husband—tall and handsome as ever—watching her with soft, affectionate eyes from the doorway.
"I must congratulate you on your powers of detection, my dear husband," Charlotte replied with a grin, "Only a true investigative mind would be able to discover the whereabouts of his wife in such a large house. Tell me, what was it that lead you to this room? Was it the fact that this is my favourite spot? Or did something else lead you here?"
"The house is not so big that you might go missing," Penrith replied with a smile, as he sauntered toward her, "Though if you were to disappear, I would only need to ask a footman. Jackson reported that he delivered you some tea just five minutes ago."
"And cake," Charlotte nodded to the tray of French fancies upon the coffee table, before patting the seat beside her in invitation.
Penrith, never one to turn down cake, promptly deposited himself beside Charlotte on the chaise.
"I came to bring you this," he said, after he had scoffed down two of the pastries in record time. Penrith proffered a letter toward Charlotte, which she took, recognising the writing as Bianca's.
"There was other correspondence as well," Penrith continued, his face barely able to contain a smile.
"Was it from Leo?" Charlotte wondered aloud. Her brother-in-law had been residing in Norfolk for the past few months, setting up a stud-farm on which he intended to breed and train racehorses. It was a long-held dream, which Leo had said could only be realised now that his stint in the army had gifted him with a work-ethic which had been previously lacking.
"No," Penrith shook his head, "Though he sent word a few days ago to say that he is certain he has a winner lined up for Ascot. No, this letter was from a rather unexpected author."
"Oh," Charlotte frowned; she hated guessing games, "Don't tease me, Penrith. Who was it from?"
The duke acknowledged Charlotte's use of his title with an amused raised eyebrow; he knew that if she was addressing him so formally, it meant that she was not pleased.
"From Agnes Thatchery," Penrith revealed, his expression one of joy, "Though she is no longer known as that, she signed herself as Mrs Bergin."
"You mean?" Charlotte glanced at her husband in surprise.
"Agnes met and fell in love with a local farmer," Hugh confirmed, his delight evident in his voice, "They married just last month. She wrote to thank both of us for all our help and assistance but has said that it is no longer required. She—and her husband—can provide for themselves."
"Why," Charlotte's voice was husky with emotion, "What a wonderful end to Agnes' tale."
"How lucky she was to have you," Hugh replied, taking Charlotte's hand, "For had you not been kind-hearted enough to help her, Agnes and Molly might have faced a far bleaker future."
Husband and wife fell into silence, as they both thought on the plight that Agnes might have faced, had she not found a champion in Charlotte. P
enrith had, to Charlotte's delight, decided that he too would be a champion for the poor. He regularly proposed bills in Parliament which might help those whose futures were precarious, and attempted to use his political muscle to push through much needed reform.
Unfortunately, he was still a Tory, but Charlotte supposed she couldn't have everything.
"Is that from Bianca?" Hugh nodded to the unopened letter in Charlotte's hands, which she had forgotten about in all the excitement.
"Oh," she looked down, "Yes, it is. Let me see what she says."
The missive was short enough; Bianca and Mr Dubarry—or Augustus, as she now referred to him—had reached Bath in record time, thanks to the spell of dry weather which had meant that the roads were in better condition than usual. They had settled into their apartments, and would stay there for a month—near Augustus' family—before heading for the port of Bristol, and then on to the Continent.
"It's all backwards," Charlotte said with a light laugh, as she finished reading aloud to Penrith, "Bianca was supposed to have married a duke and I was supposed to marry an artist and disappoint my grandmother by galavanting around Europe."
"Are you disappointed that I am not a bohemian," Penrith queried, a little nervously.
"Lud, no," Charlotte smiled and took his hand in hers, "I could not wish for a better man than you, my dear."
"If you would like to go galavanting, we might take a trip abroad?" Penrith offered, still worried that Charlotte might not be content. "Perhaps Paris? Or Vienna?"
"Perhaps, one day," Charlotte conceded, as she took his hand and placed it upon her belly, "Though for now, I feel it might be pertinent if we stay close to home."
"Do you mean?" Penrith looked at her with wide-eyed wonder, his handsome face a charming mix of masculine pride and boyish nerves.
"Yes," Charlotte nodded, unable to keep the news to herself any longer, "Before the end of the summer, according to the doctor. Are you pleased?"
"Pleased?" Penrith grinned, "I am ecstatic my dear. You have made me the happiest man in the world."
A gentle embrace followed, which turned—as it always did—into one more flustered and passionate. They might have upended the chaise lounge completely in their ardour, had the clock upon the mantelpiece not struck the hour.
"Gemini," Charlotte startled, hastily pulling herself together and buttoning up what had been unbuttoned, "Julia and Violet will arrive shortly. What would they say if they found us like this?"
"I could lock the door," Penrith offered, with a wicked smile, but Charlotte hushed him. There would be plenty of time for love-making—they had the rest of their lives, in fact.
"I wonder if they have bothered to read this month's book," Charlotte wondered aloud, as her husband straightened his appearance and prepared to leave.
"Have you?" Penrith asked, with a raise of his eyebrow.
"Well, I have been rather busy..." Charlotte began, before dissolving into a smile.
If she had been too busy to read this month's proscribed text, then there was no hope that her friends had. For the Wallflowers had all blossomed and their lives were now very different to what they once had been.
Never Fool a Duke, the next instalment in The Wilful Wallflowers Series will be released in March! If you would like to be notified when Violet and Orsino's story is live, just sign up to my newsletter using the link below!
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Other Works
If you enjoyed Tamed by a Duke, you might also like some of Claudia's other works.
Series
Fairfax Twins
The Duke's Bride in Disguise
The Duke's Governess in Disguise
The Importance of Being Eunice
Click on the link below to view on Amazon!
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Reluctant Regency Brides Collection
The Duke of Ruin
The Lord of Heartbreak
The Marquess of Temptation
The Captain of Betrayal
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http://geni.us/CB6GL
Regency Black Hearts Collection
Proposing to a Duke
The Duke's Brother
A Lady Like No Other
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http://geni.us/oATZT7W
Standalone Novels
A Second Chance With a Duke
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https://geni.us/S221W5
The Duke's Wayward Ward
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http://geni.us/w9q3q4t
About the Author
About the Author
Claudia Stone was born in South Africa but moved to Plymouth as a young girl. Having trained as an actress at RADA, she moved to New York to pursue her dream of acting on Broadway in 1988. She never did see her name in lights, but she did meet a wonderful Irishman called Conal who whisked her away to the wilds of Kerry, where she has lived ever since.
Claudia and Conal have three children, a dairy farm and a rescue lab called Buddy. When she has any time left over, Claudia enjoys reading Regency as well as writing it.
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Tamed by a Duke (Wilful Wallflowers Book 1) Page 17