He laid the report down and his thoughts drifted to Lady Daphne, Lord Sirey’s daughter. His tightened muscles immediately relaxed. She was the epitome of grace and charm, and would make an excellent Duchess of Manchester. He’d watched her during the Reynolds’ Christmas house party that she’d attended with her parents back in December.
She had been quite successful during her Season last year, but from what he’d heard, she’d turned down several offers. Her eyes had followed him at the house party, leading him to believe there was definite interest on her part. If things worked out the way he planned, he would court her, and make an offer at the end of the Season, perhaps followed by a fall wedding.
There would be no surprises with the likes of Lady Daphne. She would always do the right thing. His life would run smoothly. The “ice queen” some in the ton had tagged her. Perhaps. But he didn’t need great passion in his wife. As his duchess, they would have a perfect existence, with perfect children. Then he would feel secure in his new role, able to administer his duties, and fill the very large shoes his father had left behind.
You’ll never be able to do it, you know.
“Are you joining us for luncheon?” Sarah tapped lightly on the library door and stuck her head in. “Or did Penelope wear you out?”
“No, she did not at all wear me out. And I will not be joining you for luncheon since I have an appointment, and I’m already late.” He shoved his chair back and stood.
“She really is very sweet, you know.”
“Who?” As if he didn’t know. He shuffled papers on his desk, avoiding his sister’s stare.
“Penelope. You should have seen her at the dressmaker yesterday. I’m sure she never spent much time selecting clothing. She was completely lost. But wait until you see how beautiful her gown will be.”
“Well, yes, I’m sure it’s wonderful. Now if you will excuse me—”
“And then Lady Daphne was very rude and laughed when Penelope walked into an awkwardly misplaced table.”
Drake stiffened at the reference to Lady Daphne.
“She could learn a lesson or two about not laughing at someone’s mistakes.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood. Lady Daphne is a gentlewoman. She would never do anything to make someone uncomfortable. Why, she is the perfect example of a true lady, someone whose mannerisms you would do well to emulate.”
Sarah’s head jerked up, her palm resting alongside her cheek. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“Please don’t say you would consider offering for Lady Daphne.”
“I have no idea what you mean. And even if I did harbor such plans, they are no concern of yours.” He brushed past his sister and left the room, closing the door a bit harder than necessary.
…
Penelope gained the top of the stairs and headed to her bedroom. The activity for the first ball of the Season had taken her full attention, leaving her no time to work on her botanical notes. With the girls resting after luncheon, it was a good time for her to begin drawing the specimen she’d found before she’d left home and preserved once she’d got here.
Padding down the corridor, she passed the door Mary had pointed out as her older sister, Marion’s, room. The door stood slightly ajar. She slowed her steps and glanced in, feeling ill at ease, as if she were spying on an invalid.
Marion looked up from her seat by the fireplace and closed the book in her hands. “Oh, you must be Miss Clayton. Please, come in. I’m Marion, Lady Tunstall, Her Grace’s eldest daughter.”
Penelope pushed the door further and entered the bedroom. The first thing that caught her notice was a type of shrine set up on a low dresser near the window. A candle burned below a portrait of a young man, dressed in the garb of the Royal Navy.
“That’s Tristan, Lord Tunstall.” Marion laid the book alongside her, rose, and moved toward the portrait. “My husband.” The pain and sorrow in those two words cut to Penelope’s heart.
“I’m so sorry. I understand he was lost at sea?”
Marion touched her fingertips to the man’s face. “Yes. His body was never recovered. Buried at sea, they say.” She turned toward Penelope, tears standing in her eyes. “I loved him so much.”
Penelope ached for her. Perhaps love was not such a wonderful thing if this was the result once it was lost. Never having witnessed love first hand, since her mother had died long before any of Penelope’s memories, she didn’t know how her parents’ marriage had fared. When her father had spoken of the woman he’d married, it was always with affection, but never with the longing and heartache so evident in Marion.
The woman seemed to rally herself. “So tell me about your wonderful ball gown Mary spoke of last night. She assured me you will liken to a princess in it. I understand it will be the first time you’ll appear in ton society?”
They settled on the couch near the fireplace. “Yes, and frankly, I’m quite nervous about it.”
“All girls are nervous at their first ball. I’m sure you will do fine. And my family will be there to support you. Now, promise me you will stop in and see me when you are dressed in your finery that night.”
Penelope swallowed her anxiety. “I would be happy to do that.”
They talked for another ten or so minutes, and then Marion said, “I am so glad you stopped in. You know, my family no longer mentions Tristan to me. They believe I should have put this behind me by now, and moved on with my life, but they don’t understand. . .”
“Only you will know when it is time.”
“How right you are. I wish my family would recognize that. I know Mother worries so. She loves me, and wants to see me happy, but I can’t convince her I will never be truly happy again.” She turned to Penelope. “Can you understand that?”
“I believe if you feel that way, they should honor your wishes.”
Silence descended as they studied the fire. Penelope stood and smoothed her skirts. “It’s been lovely visiting with you.”
“Will you return? Or have I turned you away with my maudlin ramblings?”
“Not at all. I shall be delighted to visit with you again.” With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving Marion with her sorrow and shrine.
Chapter Five
Drake pushed aside the last of the correspondence needing his signature. Leaning back in his chair, he eased the cramped muscles in his hand and his thoughts wandered to Penelope, as they seemed to do far too often lately.
In a few days’ time, at Lady Millicent’s coming out ball, he would make sure her dance card stayed full. There were several young men he was aware of that would show her the proper respect, and might even deign to pay her court. He was sure there were many gentlemen among his acquaintances who would help to make the girl’s evening enjoyable. Of course, he would have to impress upon her, without causing the girl distress, that the evening might go better if she wore her spectacles.
A soft knock brought him from his reverie. Penelope pushed the door open and stopped at the entrance. “Am I disturbing you?”
At least she asked if she was disturbing him, unlike his sisters who felt free to just sail in anytime they chose. “No, not at all.”
She came closer to this desk, but didn’t look him directly in the eye. “I am in need of paper and Her Grace suggested I might find it here.”
“Of course.” He pushed back his chair and opened the center drawer. “How much?”
She shrugged. “Just a few sheets.”
“Letters to write?” He smiled at her.
She finally looked up, her face flushed. “No. I wish to do some drawings.” When he raised his brows in question, she hurried on, “Of my plants.”
“That’s quite interesting. Then what do you do with them?”
“I keep them in a journal. Along with notes about where I find the specimens, the quality of the soil. Things like that.”
Drake leaned back, his index finger and thumb cradling his chin. “My
mother tells me your father was a fairly well-known botanist.”
“Oh yes. He was highly respected in his field. In fact, one time. . .”
He listened with half an ear, far more interested in how her face lit up when she spoke of her father. He imagined she must have adored the man. It must have been difficult for her to adjust to being alone. A young girl, without parents, suddenly forced to leave everything familiar.
But the keen intelligence in her eyes and the animation in her body fascinated him. He felt himself being pulled into her world. How wonderful it must be to love your work so much. Too bad such endeavors were closed to females. But women had their roles in life, just as men had theirs.
Penelope presented an entirely different person when she was speaking on a subject with which she was comfortable. The sweet, shy young miss became a vibrant scientist, anxious to share her findings.
“And that was why he received the award.” She looked at him expectantly.
Drake was embarrassed to realize he’d been so busy watching her that he hadn’t heard much of what she’d said.
“I am sure it was well-deserved,” he murmured.
“Yes.” Her smile mesmerized him.
The sunlight had captured the copper strands woven throughout the deep brown of her hair. His hand itched to pull out the hairpins and run his fingers through its shiny thickness. From here he could smell the scent of flowers that he remembered from their dance. Chagrined at being caught staring, he pulled his thoughts back and handed her the paper. “Are you in need of a pen?”
“No, thank you.” She seemed reluctant to leave, but when he made no further comments, she dipped slightly and turned to leave.
“If you ever need more paper, or anything. . .”
Penelope nodded and left the room. It took Drake some time to get back to his work.
…
The next day, Penelope took a spoonful of the delicious bergamot ice as she sat with the duchess and the other girls outside Gunter’s Tea Shop. The waiter had just delivered the frozen treats to them, a first for Penelope. The early spring air blew a soft breeze, adding to the chill from the ice. Even though it was cool outside, they’d decided to treat themselves to the delicacy.
“Are there still more purchases to be made?” Penelope directed her comment to Her Grace.
The duchess raised her eyebrows. “Surely you’re not tired of shopping.”
Penelope felt heat rise to her face. “No. I mean, well yes, maybe a little,” she finished lamely. Truth be told, she was very tired of shopping. Goodness, how much clothing did a girl need to get through the Season? There were morning gowns, walking gowns, tea gowns, ball gowns, dinner gowns, riding habits—the list was endless. And of course, matching bonnets, gloves, reticules, fans, shawls, slippers. Her head was swimming. All that money wasted, since she would never wear any of it again once she returned to the country.
“Perhaps Penelope is correct, and we’ve done enough for today.” The duchess smiled fondly at Abigail’s groan. “And the dancing master is due to arrive this afternoon. I think it’s time we started for home.”
The dancing master. Another reason for Penelope to squirm. At least she hadn’t been subjected to the torture of practice with Drake again. But even the dancing master was losing patience with her, although he did try very hard to hide his annoyance.
Since the dancing debacle, she had tried her best to avoid Drake. At dinner, and whenever they met in the house, he was courteous and always the epitome of a gentleman, but he no doubt feared being stomped, spilled on, or crashed into. Every encounter in the corridors had her searching for a potted plant to hide behind, lest she inadvertently inflict pain on him in some manner.
Had she not been desperate for paper to continue with her drawings, she would never have sought him out in his library. But the encounter had been pleasant, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in her work. At least he’d asked her some questions, which is more than what most people did. Even that brief conversation had her longing for her home and work.
“How long does the Season last?” Penelope blurted out the question before she even thought of it. Five brightly colored bonneted heads turned in her direction.
“My dear, it has just started. You will have a wonderful time, I promise. Why, most young ladies are nervous at the beginning of their first Season. Am I right, girls?”
Less than enthusiastic nods answered her. Mary cleared her throat. “Of course. I’m a bit anxious myself. And remember, we have each other.”
Somewhat mollified, Penelope smiled in her direction and then gazed at the passing scenery.
Mary might be a bit nervous, but I’m terrified.
The girls scattered when they returned from their trip. With the help of their lady’s maid, the twins planned to try various hairstyles. Abigail and Mary were slated for the dancing master. Penelope begged off with a headache. Both Abigail and Mary were as graceful as can be, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for the services of the dancing master.
But happy with her escape, Penelope hurried up the stairs and came to an abrupt halt as she almost plowed into Drake. “Oh, excuse me.” She veered back. He reached out and grabbed both of her arms before she landed on her bum.
“Hiding from someone?” He grinned as he glanced behind her. “Or are you being pursued by suitors already?”
Penelope shook her head and gulped. “No. No, not at all.”
Releasing her, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I heard my mother say the dancing master was expected. Surely you’re not hiding from him?”
She felt the heat rise to her face. But then he looked so amused, she giggled. “Yes.”
“You needn’t worry. It will come to you in time.” Then instead of excusing himself, he surprised her by asking, “How was your shopping trip?”
She did not think of Drake as someone who was interested in ladies’ shopping trips. She’d heard grumblings from him about his sisters’ modiste bills, and assumed it was not a pleasant topic of conversation.
Yet, as he regarded her, there seemed to be genuine interest in his eyes. Perhaps because her bills were not being sent to him. However, one would think he’d be grateful that he’d avoided a collision, or relieved at not being dragged back into the drawing room to dance with her. A prudent man would be on his way before some other disaster befell him.
“Hopefully today was our last shopping trip.” She flushed as his eyebrows rose.
“Ah. I didn’t think any young lady felt she had enough gowns and folderols.”
She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her, or serious. “Not me. I’d rather spend an afternoon shopping in a bookstore.”
“Indeed?”
Oh dear, now he would think she was a bluestocking, and Aunt Phoebe would be disgraced. But Aunt Phoebe wasn’t here, and Drake didn’t appear to be scandalized.
“To me there is no better way to spend a dreary afternoon than skimming the shelves of a bookstore. The smell, the feel of the leather and paper. Some of my most pleasant memories are of days with my father as we discovered new botany books.”
“And now, here you are, about to make your debut on the Marriage Mart.”
She was stunned to find her eyes filling with tears. Tears that apparently had not gotten past Drake’s notice. He pushed away from the wall and took her hands in his. “Are you still so unhappy here?”
Penelope swiped at her eyes. “Goodness, no. Your mother and sisters have been wonderful. I have never been around women much, but your family makes me feel, well, normal.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “What an odd thing to say.”
She flushed, once again reminded that she had very little in the way of social skills. “I mean, I never had a female friend, or even a relative. Truth be known, I am a bit overwhelmed by the number of feminine accomplishments your sisters possess.” Lord, why did she say that? She was making herself appear more and more foolish as they stood here. She sh
ould just excuse herself, run to her room, and climb under the bed.
“From my point of view, they seem to be very accomplished at adding to their wardrobes,” he said wryly.
Penelope warmed at his words when she realized they were again having an actual conversation. Without the terror of stomping on his foot, or in some other way causing him physical harm, she felt relaxed, actually enjoying their exchange.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, seeming to make a decision. “What do you say we take a trip into town one day this week and wander around a bookstore?”
She broke into a smile, happiness welling up within her. “Would you mind? I mean, I’m sure you have other things to do than escort me to a bookstore.”
“Not at all. I have been known to while away an afternoon in a bookstore, myself. And it would be beneficial to get away from the many ledgers and correspondence that take up too much of my time.”
“Well, if you truly don’t mind, I would love to visit a bookstore.” She felt like a little girl who had just been promised a sweet.
“Then it is set. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?” At her eager response, he added. “Two o’clock?”
“Yes, thank you so much.”
Drake nodded and headed to the stairs, leaving Penelope happy and confused at the same time. What in heaven’s name ever made him suggest they go somewhere together?
She headed toward her room, and then paused outside Marion’s bedroom. She tapped lightly, and waited until she heard a soft, “Enter.”
Marion closed the book she was reading and smiled. “Thank you for coming again. I felt the need for company.”
Penelope bit her lip to refrain from pointing out all the company she could desire was right outside her door. She closed the door softly and joined Marion on the settee in front of the fireplace. “I’ve bought something for you.” From her pocket, Penelope drew out a bright blue hair ribbon.
The Duke's Quandary (Entangled Scandalous) Page 4