The Duke's Quandary (Entangled Scandalous)

by Hutton, Callie

  Westfall stood, the movement catching Penelope’s eye. “Goodness, I didn’t realize someone else was in here with you.”

  Drake nodded toward the man. “Miss Clayton, may I make known to you John Westfall, who is our stable master. Westfall, this is Miss Penelope Clayton, who is a guest of my family.”

  The stable master tugged on the brim of his wool cap, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  She smiled, her cheeks a bright red, almost matching her outfit. “I apologize again for interrupting.”

  “Not at all. Mr. Westfall was just telling me about his new son, who apparently is having some issue that is depriving Westfall and his wife of sleep.”

  “Isn’t that the way with new babies?” She smiled warmly at the new father.

  “No, miss, I’m afraid it’s more than that. The tyke seems to be in pain.”

  “Oh, dear. Is he crying a great deal?”

  “That he is. Day and night. Has m’wife in a bit of a pother. Convinced, she is, the lad will die.”

  Penelope frowned. “Does he draw his little legs up?”

  The man nodded.

  “I cannot say for sure, but it sounds to me like your baby is suffering from colic.”

  “What?” Both men said at the same time.

  “It’s a disorder some babies have. My father used his knowledge of plants to offer medicinal assistance to our neighbors from time to time. Two of the plants I’m familiar with can ease a bit of the problem with colic.”

  “Where can I get some of these plants, miss?” Westfall’s eyes lit up, no doubt at the thought of a full night’s sleep.

  “I’m sure there is some chamomile right here in the woods behind the house. And no doubt there will be some ginger root in the kitchen. I can fix a tea for your son. Now please understand, I can’t guarantee the mixture will correct the baby’s problem completely, but I know the properties in the plants should help.”

  A smile broke out on John’s broad face. “Anything you can do, miss, would be much appreciated.”

  Penelope patted the stable master’s hand. “I will have something for you this afternoon.”

  Drake stood in awe, as the woman he knew to be shy and fond of hiding behind plants, turned and strode from the room, determination in her steps. Yes, there was definitely more to Penelope than met the eye.

  …

  Penelope settled on the rose and green striped window seat in the drawing room. Marion nodded her thanks to the footman as he placed the tea things on the low table in front of her. “Thank you, Stiles. Please ask His Grace if he would care to join us for tea.”

  “Certainly, my lady.”

  “How was your ride with Joseph?” Marion passed a cup of steaming liquid to Penelope.

  “It was very nice. Mr. Fox is a charming gentleman.”

  That afternoon had been her third outing with the rector. Over the past few days, they’d gone for a carriage ride, a picnic, and a stroll through the village. Even in her naivety, she was aware of the man’s apparent interest. A bit disconcerting. She felt nothing for him except a warm friendship. He’d held her hand this afternoon while they were strolling, but she’d felt nothing.

  Certainly nothing like the few times Drake had kissed her, or even came near. No pounding of her heart or fluttering in her stomach. Nevertheless, it was pointless to pursue that line of thought.

  On the occasions she and Drake had come across each other at the Manor, he’d been stiffly polite. He seemed to avoid her otherwise, with dinner being the only meal they all shared. Those occurrences were somber affairs, with Drake gulping more than his usual quota of wine as she and Marion discussed her latest outing with Joseph.

  Since she hadn’t changed her mind about marrying, it mattered not, anyway. Mr. Fox would make some woman a wonderful, warm, loving husband. But not her.

  “Perhaps you will end up married to the rector,” Marion teased.

  Penelope shook her head and returned her cup to the saucer. “No. I’m fond of him, but not in the way you would be of a husband.”

  “That’s too bad.” Marion slanted a speculative glance at her. “Maybe because someone else has caught your eye?”

  “Ah, tea.” Drake entered the room, most likely having come from a ride. His usually well-groomed hair was tossed about, his cravat loosened, and his face flushed with the wind. “It appears I’m just in time.”

  “Indeed you are.” Marion handed him a cup and passed the tray of scones. “I’m surprised to see you. You seem to be avoiding us. Where have you been?”

  He settled in the chair next to the fireplace. “Nonsense. I haven’t been avoiding you lovely ladies. I’ve been busy. Just came from giving the new mare a run. She’ll be an excellent addition to our stable.”

  Penelope shifted in her chair. Drat the fluttering that took up residence in her stomach at the man’s appearance. His glance barely slid in her direction before he became extremely interested in his tea cup.

  “I’m glad to hear it is not Penelope or me that has kept you from our presence. I thought perhaps you were unhappy to have brought us.”

  Drake looked stricken. “Not at all, Marion. I’m very glad to have brought you here. I think the steps you’ve taken recently are wonderful.” He darted a glimpse at Penelope, but remained silent on his thoughts about having her along.

  “Your Grace, Mr. Joseph Fox has requested an audience, if you please.” Stiles stood in the doorway, holding a small card in his hand.

  “Ask him to join us here, Stiles. And see that Mrs. Penson sends in some more scones and hot tea.”

  Stiles had barely left the room when Joseph strode in, bringing the scent of country air with him. “Good to see you, Manchester.” Bowing in Marion’s direction, he said, “Lady Tunstall, good afternoon.” He turned to Penelope and took her hand, placing a kiss on her fingers. “Miss Clayton.”

  “Why don’t you sit over here, Fox, and have some tea.” Drake pointed to the chair across from him, even though the space next to Penelope was vacant.

  “Ah, yes. Thank you.” He took his seat, and addressed Penelope. “Have you recovered from your ride, Miss Clayton?”

  “Why? Did something happen?” Drake looked from Penelope to Joseph.

  “Just a small mishap. Miss Clayton tripped over a root while we stopped to admire the scenery.”

  “Indeed? And what scenery was that?” He glared at the rector as if he suspected the man of nefarious purposes.

  “The view from the pond, on that little hill. I thought Miss Clayton would enjoy seeing the village laid out in front of her.”

  ”For heaven’s sake. It was a minor incident. Certainly no worse than any other misstep I’ve had.”

  Drake glared in her direction. “I fail to understand why you were wandering about, tripping on roots, when you were supposed to be taking a carriage ride.”

  She and Marion exchanged glances as silence descended on the group. Drake rotated his shoulders. “What was it you wanted to see me about, Fox?”

  “I would prefer if we spoke in private, Manchester.”

  Uncomfortable at the sudden tension in the room, Penelope patted her lips with a serviette and stood. “I will leave you gentlemen to your meeting. Marion, would you like to continue with our embroidering?”

  Marion’s raised eyebrows no doubt resulted from her awareness of Penelope’s abhorrence of needlework. However, she rose and followed her from the room.

  …

  “What can I do for you?” Drake had a very bad feeling about this requested meeting. He was sure it had something to do with Penelope, and doubted it would be to his liking.

  “I’ve grown fond of Miss Clayton over the last few days.” Joseph folded his serviette and placed it alongside the cup of tea he hadn’t touched.

  “Is that so?” Drake leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. If the man was here to make an offer for Penelope, he would not make it easy for him. Why that was, he didn’t want to dwell upon.

  “Yes.
I realize I’ve known her a very short time, but I find her to be refreshingly charming.”

  “Indeed?”

  Apparently unaware of the hostility suddenly filling the room, Joseph leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs. “Yes. I think she’s a remarkable young lady. And I think she finds me likeable, as well.”

  “And?”

  “Well. I would like to ask her to marry me.”

  Drake shot up from the chair. “Marry? Are you serious, man? You’ve just met her.”

  Joseph leaned back and met Drake’s glare. “Yes. I know we haven’t known each other for long, and I would be willing to have a somewhat lengthy engagement if that is her desire.”

  “Do you know she’s a scientist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know she’s a bit on the clumsy side?”

  Joseph hesitated, his regard cautious. “Yes.”

  “And she has no intention to ever marry?”

  “Yes. We’ve discussed that, but I believe I can change her mind.”

  Drake snorted.

  “In any event, I assume you have no objection?” Joseph studied him for a minute. “Unless. . .”

  “Unless what?” Drake growled.

  “Is there an understanding between the two of you?”

  “Absolutely not.” He stood and moved to the window, his back to Joseph. “I plan to choose a wife myself this year. Someone who will fit my requirements. A true lady. One who will bear the title ‘Duchess’ with dignity.”

  “And have you decided on someone?”

  He turned and leaned against the window frame. “As a matter of fact, there is a woman who I plan to make an offer for. Her name is Lady Daphne, Lord Sirey’s daughter. She’s a charming, sophisticated, well-bred young lady. Exactly who I have in mind for my wife. I have had my eye on her for some time.”

  “I am very happy to hear that. Then I am to assume Miss Clayton is no more to you than your family’s houseguest?”

  He studied Joseph for a minute, and then waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s correct. Nothing more than my mother’s houseguest.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you are not too sure about that?”

  “Nonsense.” Drake fiddled with the cord on the window drape, avoiding Joseph’s questioning gaze. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Joseph’s jaw dropped. “My God. You’re in love with her.”

  Stunned, Drake shouted, “Are you crazy, man?” He stabbed the air with his index finger. “I will never fall in love. Love will not factor into my decision for a wife. And in any event, I told you I’ve already selected a woman as my duchess.”

  “Have you offered for her?”

  “No.”

  “If she is perfect, why not?”

  “I will. When the time is right.”

  After a minute of silence with Drake’s words echoing in the room, Joseph stood and held out his hand. “As you say. However, I will give this more thought. I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Miss Clayton as yet.”

  He hesitated, then took the man’s hand. “If that is your wish, then I will abide by it.”

  Fox turned and headed toward the door. “Good luck with your search. I’m sure if you look hard enough, you will find the perfect duchess.”

  With the sound of the door closing, Drake stared at the floor, his thoughts in a jumble. After a moment, he rallied himself and headed toward the library and the bottle of brandy. He poured a generous portion, and took a quick gulp. Moving to the window, he watched Joseph swing his leg over his horse and head back toward his village.

  As soon as they returned to Town, he would make an offer for Lady Daphne. It was time he got on with his life, and marrying the perfect woman was the first step. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. Then there would be no more annoying visitors telling him he was in love with the most unsuitable woman in all of London.

  Love. Ridiculous.

  He took a large swallow of his brandy and shook his head.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The colorful gowns of the ladies swirling around the dance floor at the Brentwood crush blocked his view as Drake sought out his sisters. Within minutes he’d spotted all four of them, but where the devil was Penelope? His mother chatted happily with her friends, oblivious to the fact that one of her charges had gone astray. He had no need for this; it was nearing the time for his dance with Lady Daphne. Why he felt compelled to keep an eye on Miss Clayton baffled him.

  Two days ago, shortly after Joseph had left his library, Drake had announced to Marion and Penelope that they were leaving for London in the morning. He needed to make a serious effort to claim his bride. His reluctance to follow through on what he’d decided back at the beginning of the Season would end. Lady Daphne was a perfect choice, and the time had arrived to move forward.

  The lady in question was currently gathered with a group of girls, but her attention was riveted across the ballroom. He turned to see what had caught Lady Daphne’s interest. Lord Shaffer stood with Lord Beamer, who leaned close to him, obviously making a point. Shaffer nodded politely, but it was obvious he was distracted, and kept glancing in the direction of the group of girls Lady Daphne conversed with.

  He shrugged and headed toward the French doors. Conceivably Penelope had gone for some air. Once he assured himself she was not getting into trouble, he would relax. In fact, he’d make sure she stood near his mother for the rest of the evening.

  Several couples wandered the well-lit garden area. It didn’t take him long to spot her, almost as if she was a magnet for his eyes. He descended the few steps to the graveled path toward the stone bench where she sat. A man leaned over her, his foot resting on the bench. Penelope edged back, and the man moved closer. Drake’s pulse sped up when he recognized Smythe.

  “No, sir. I am truly sorry you are disappointed, but I do not wish to marry you.” Her voice carried to his ears, but Smythe’s response was lost since the man faced away from him.

  How dare that sniveling reprobate accost her once again? His blood pumped through him, and his breath quickened as he hurried forward. Reaching out, he grabbed Smythe by the shoulder, spun him around, and planted him a facer. The man went down with a thud.

  “I told you to stay far away from Miss Clayton. Either you leave right now, or I will make sure you spend the rest of the Season recovering.” Red hot anger raced through him at seeing this rogue once again too close to Penelope. He prayed the man would get up and allow him to beat him into a pulp.

  “No. Don’t.” Penelope pulled on his sleeve. “People are beginning to stare. Please.”

  Taking deep gulps of air, he leaned over Smythe. “I will not upset Miss Clayton, but I can assure you this is not over.”

  Smythe pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, patted his split lip, and glared at the duke. “Just what is your interest in the chit?”

  “None of your bloody business. And when I return I expect to see the tail end of your carriage.” Straightening his cravat, he turned and took Penelope’s elbow. “Come.”

  “Where are we going?” She looked over her shoulder at Smythe as Drake pulled her along.

  “For a walk.” How could the girl be so foolish as to be caught alone again with Smythe? Was she trying to get herself compromised? The terror on her face as she moved back from the rogue added unwanted twists to his gut. Had she learned nothing from her last encounter?

  Penelope took two steps to his every one. Eventually, he realized the poor girl was out of breath trying to keep up with him, and he stopped.

  “Thank goodness. My slippers were about to wear out.”

  He looked down at her, and the tightness in his stomach grew. Her coiffure had once again slipped, with loosened curls gracing her slender shoulders. Her jade green eyes, framed by thick lashes behind her gold wire spectacles, regarded him. She teased him with a hesitant smile, her face a soft shadow in the moonlight.

  What in heaven’s name was she doing to him? He wa
s acting in ways that made no sense. She could tie him into knots with a mere glance. In his many years of dealing with women, he’d never felt so out of control as he did with this one. One minute he wanted to throttle her, and the next sweep her into his arms and find the nearest bed.

  The light floral scent wafting from her creamy skin drew him closer. A slight breeze teased the curls at the nape of her neck, beckoning him to touch the softness of her hair.

  But his entire focus was on those lips. Nothing would satisfy him but to cover the sweetness of her mouth with his. Slowly, he ran his palms up her arms to her shoulders. Then he cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “God help me, why can’t I stay away from you?”

  He leaned in for a kiss. Her lips were warm and soft. He ran his tongue against them, urging her to open. Her slight gasp gave him the opportunity he needed. He slid into her moistness, skimming each tender spot. She stiffened and pushed at his chest, but he didn’t let go. She jerked her head aside, her voice breathless. “No. I told you never again.”

  “Ah, Penelope, love. I can’t help it. And I know you feel it, too.”

  She leaned back, his tight grip preventing her from falling backwards. “Please. I can’t deal with this. We must stay away from each other.”

  He gently cupped her head, easing her closer until her face rested against his chest. “I know we should stay away from one another. I tried. God knows I’ve tried. But it’s not working, Penelope. I can’t stop thinking about you. Wanting to kiss you, hold you. I want to take you to my bed.”

  Penelope took in a sharp breath. “No.” She shook her head furiously. “Don’t say that.”

  “My little scientist. You think if I don’t say the words, the feelings and desires will go away? It doesn’t work like that. You have kept me on the edge for weeks.”

  He eased back a curl that had come lose from her topknot. “I don’t just want to take you to bed. I want to take you to the theater, to the museum, on picnics and rides in the park.”

  “What are you saying?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” He released her to run his fingers through his hair. “Dear God, I don’t know.”