Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  Edward told Penelope at a stop to take care of their needs, and that he was furious listening to Henry picking on her. He wanted to shut the jerk up.

  Penelope laughed. “Ignore him, Edward. Don’t let him bait you. He’s pathetic and scared his father will grow fond of us. If he is the price we have to pay for Mother living well, so be it.”

  She looked up to see Henry on the other side of the carriage. He had done nothing but insult her for the whole trip. He seemed to be particularly annoyed by her. After hearing what he did to animals, Penelope thought, He is probably thinking of ways to kill me. Then she thought she was being ridiculous, and she was overtired. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  When the carriages stopped at an Inn for the night, Cecilia and Penelope shared a room while Edward and Henry shared another. Uncle Avery had the luxury of being alone. As was his right.

  The evening meal was welcome. In front of his father, Henry was a different person. Insulting and surly but with occasional breaks. Breathers that were welcome.

  Cecilia and Avery got along well, and Penelope thought her mother much improved since Avery’s arrival the previous day. Penelope watched her mother eat most of her meal. Being on the road was helping her. Penelope wondered if Avery and her mother were close when they were younger, before her mother married her father.

  “Mother, it’s nice to see you and Uncle Avery together. Are you enjoying his company?”

  Cecilia smiled. “I lost touch with Avery when I married your father. Avery didn’t approve of him. Now, the years have melted away. We are catching up with a lifetime of births and deaths and everything in between.”

  Penelope smiled and kissed her mother. “Goodnight, Mother.”

  “Goodnight, dear.”

  The carriages stopped at the foot of Uncle Avery’s townhouse, and Edward took Penelope’s hand. They looked out the window at stairs that went to a black door with a brass knocker. A brass knocker in the shape of the lion was attached to the door but it wasn’t used because the butler opened it and bowed as they entered. He took their overcoats and wraps.

  Avery introduced his sister and her children with pride. He directed the butler to put their trunks in rooms he assigned to them and let the butler know they wanted tea. They all went into the parlour and sat with a collective, “Aah.”

  Avery told them he would send up a tray of food to hold them over until dinner. They could bathe and rest.

  Penelope loved her room, and it adjoined Cecilia’s so she could keep an eye on her mother.

  Chapter 18

  Penelope spent the next few days with her mother, planning her wedding, at the modiste’s for her trousseau and wedding gown or shopping for hats, shoes, and gloves and endless other things. The modiste talked her into some lovely shear underthings Madame thought Nash might like. She always thought Uncle Avery had taken good care of her needs as well as those of her mother and brother, but the things she had in her wardrobe were inadequate for her new station as a Duchess. She didn’t fault her uncle. She just realized how much more she needed.

  One day when Coleman opened the door for Penelope, and a footman carried in the shopping bags, he told her Henry was in the parlour waiting for her. She gave Coleman her wrap and asked him to let Henry know he would never be welcome there. She went upstairs without a backward look.

  ***

  Edward saw Nash and Penelope to the Dover docks so the newlyweds could get on a boat to Calais and begin their honeymoon. Nash gave Edward the name of three hotels they were staying at during their travels. Paris, Rome, and Catania, Sicily, if reaching Nash were absolutely necessary.

  Penelope hugged Edward, and he slapped Nash on his back. The footmen moved the travel trunks from the carriage to the boat, and the honeymoon began.

  Penelope was excited on the boat trip to Calais. It wasn’t as long a ride at around six hours, than the trip from Nantes to Rome would be, so it was an easy leg of their journey. When they reached Calais, the carriage ride to Paris was about two and a half days. Penelope hoped her enthusiasm would still be intact when they arrived in Paris.

  Nash stole looks at Penelope, leaning over the boat rail, breathing in the sea air, and silently laughed. She was jumping out of her skin right now. Her head would be on Nash’s shoulder, too tired to keep her eyes open, during their carriage ride to Paris. No matter, after ten days in Paris, Penelope would be recovered enough for the grueling trip to Rome.

  “Oh, Nash. This suite is beautiful. Our stay in Paris will be quite comfortable.”

  “Yes. I stayed here before a few years ago. I was afraid it might have lost its appeal since then, but it’s still as I remembered it.

  “What would you like to do first, Penelope?”

  “I’d like to bathe then eat lunch. Maybe we can walk around after that?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll call for water. See the tub in the corner?” Nash brought her to it. “There is a plug and a pipe. When you are done, you unplug it, and the water goes down the pipe. Clever, don’t you think?”

  Penelope’s eyes widened. “There? Why don’t we do that at home?”

  Nash gave her a smile, “We will. This hotel was built with the pipes planned in every room. Our bedchamber has the rock walls and no pipes.”

  After a lovely late dinner at a café near their hotel, Nash and Penelope headed to bed. Nash lay in bed with his hands crossed, cradling his head while he waited for his bride. She was undressing behind the screen.

  “Madame Leduc insisted I buy this nightgown. She said every woman on her honeymoon should have one. Promise not to laugh?”

  Nash rolled his eyes. He would want her tonight if she were in a potato sack. But he would make sure to praise her when she joined him in bed no matter what she was wearing.

  “I promise.”

  She walked from behind the screen and stood in front of Nash in a sheer white nightgown with thin straps over her shoulders, no sleeves, and a very low cut.

  He could see her birthmark right above her left breast, her bellybutton and her –

  “Nash. Say something,” she said, a beautiful blush on her face.

  Nash held his hand out to her.

  “Come here wife. Madame Leduc is a very wise woman. Remind me to send her a bonus when we get back to London. You are an angel sent from heaven just for me.”

  Penelope let out a breath, and her nerves settled. “I wasn’t sure if I should have brought it or if I should wear it.”

  Nash grinned. “Will you wear it again for me?”

  Penelope nodded and responded in a whisper, “Yes.”

  “Good. Now let me watch you take it off.”

  ***

  Their stay in Paris was magical. Nash knew the representative of the English embassy and a few other peers of theirs. They dined at the embassy a few times, whispering later about the ambassador. He was a rather rotund man, and his French was far from flawless. Penelope found Paris delightful.

  Nash received no missives and sent none. He realized that they were living without the specter of Henry for the first time since they met. What a magnificent feeling.

  The rest of the honeymoon was as successful as their stay in Paris. Penelope considered the boat ride from Nantes to Rome to be the worst part of the travel but found it worthwhile when she landed in Rome.

  The trip to the Coliseum and the Pantheon piqued her interest in learning more about ancient Rome. The squares with shops and outdoor cafés that served very strong coffee were charming. She marvelled at how many squares there were in the city, a short walking distance from one another.

  Penelope wore a hat tilted to the left-hand side to minimize the view of her scar. She found the Europeans either didn’t notice it or didn’t care about it as no one commented. How refreshing.

  As in Paris, they dined with their peers in Rome. One night while dining with eight other couples at the English embassy, a gentleman was harassing a nice lady Penelope’s age named Lady Sanderson. Sitting across fro
m them, Nash and Penelope could not help witnessing the exchange. The gentleman reminded Penelope of Henry. He was crass and loud and said inappropriate things to Lady Sanderson.

  “Tell me, Lord Cheevers, are you enjoying your stay in Rome?” Penelope asked trying to pull the Lord’s attention from Lady Sanderson.

  Lord Cheevers turned from Lady Sanderson to Penelope and looked her up and down. Penelope anticipated a comment about her scar.

  “No, Duchess, I am not. I find the company dreary,” he looked over to Lady Sanderson, “and the diversions few. There are only so many times one can go to the opera.”

  “Do you enjoy the strong coffee served in the cafés? I find the squares charming and the cafés a nice place to sit outside and watch the bustle of Rome.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Forgive me, Duchess, but we have different views of our experiences in Rome.”

  He turned to Lady Sanderson and whispered in her ear in such an insistent tone Penelope wanted to intervene.

  Nash put his hand on Penelope’s thigh and whispered in her ear. “Be careful, my dear. You may poke the bear one too many times.”

  She turned to Nash, “I can’t sit by and watch him bully her.”

  He looked her in the eyes. “Be careful, my love.”

  During the remainder of the dinner, Penelope tried to engage in as much conversation with Lady Sanderson as possible. It seemed a rather successful way to ward off Lord Cheevers.

  After the meal, when the men retreated to the study for cigars and brandy and women went to the parlour, Penelope asked Lady Sanderson if they could speak.

  “I don’t mean to intrude Lady Sanderson, but I once knew a man similar to Lord Cheevers.

  “He was rude to me, condescending and threatened me whenever we were in the same room, which ended up being often.

  “Everywhere I went, he was there. Every day I wondered if I would see him and if he would humiliate me. It was awful.

  “I couldn’t help seeing parallels in Lord Cheevers’ interaction with you. Am I right?”

  Lady Sanderson’s eyes caught on an empty corner of the room, and she strolled there. Penelope joined her. “Please call me Amelia.”

  “And I am, Penelope.”

  “Your observations are correct, Penelope. We are acquaintances and happen to be here at the same time. He is ruining my trip,” she whispered. “What should I do?”

  “You can start by asking the hostess to seat you as far away from him as possible. She’ll understand if you tell her he is pursuing you and his advances are unwanted. See her before the dinner party or as soon as you arrive.

  “Sit with the ladies in the parlour before dinner. Sit for yourself between ladies; it doesn’t matter whom, and turn down his invitation to join him in another part of the room. You know you are allowed to say no to a Lord, don’t you?”

  “What if I’m sitting with ladies, and I turned him down, and he says inappropriate things to me?”

  “You say, ‘Excuse me, My Lord, but I don’t want to be spoken to in that way. Please leave me to my conversation with these lovely ladies.’

  “You can do it, I promise. He’ll eventually back off. You must be consistent, but don’t let him get you alone. You understand?”

  “Yes, thank you, Penelope.”

  Penelope told Nash of her conversation with Amelia when he closed the door to the bedchamber that night. He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face in front of her scar.

  “Good for you. Just be careful. This man is volatile and might take his failure to intimidate her out on you.”

  Penelope didn’t see Lady Sanderson again. She was sad to leave Rome until she got to Catania. On the carriage ride from the dock to Catania, she saw the countryside and charming towns of Sicily.

  Towns with the main square of shops, a church, and a meetinghouse surrounded by small cottages built from blond-coloured brick and topped with a slate roof.

  The air was clean and smelled of the sea, and a gentle breeze circulated keeping the air fresh. The sun shone brightly without a cloud in sight.

  The carriage pulled up to a villa directly facing the ocean with a beach between them. Tall green plants grew around high openings in the villa that Penelope guessed could only be windows.

  The colour of the water was nothing like she had ever seen. In England, the water matched the sky. A dark gray soup that stirred whitecaps but did not improve in temperature or colour.

  In Catania, the ocean was calm. More like a gentle lake than an ocean. The colour started as a light aquamarine blue that slowly brightened to a turquoise colour popular with hats in London summers. A bright blue as far as the eye could see followed. It too matched the sky.

  The guide turned to Penelope, riveted on the sea.

  “Put your bare feet in the water, Duchess. The water is warm, not the ice water you are used to in England.”

  Penelope smiled at him and nodded.

  “Come, I’ll show you around.”

  After touring the villa with Sergio, Penelope put a hand on Nash’s upper arm. “Now I understand why you love it here so much.”

  He grinned. “It’s paradise. Once we’ve settled in, I’ll take you to the beach, and we’ll put our feet in the water. Sergio’s right. The water temperature will surprise you, in a good way.”

  Penelope gave a dazzling smile, as beautiful as the ocean in Catania. Every day, she didn’t think she could love Nash more, and every day, she was proven wrong.

  Sergio was talking, “And the stars at night are brighter and more plentiful. You will love the quiet breeze, the soft rustle of fronds, the curtains billowing. You won’t want to leave.”

  “I’m already convinced. It’s beautiful.”

  Nash smiled. “I knew you’d like it. It’s my favourite place in the world.”

  ***

  “So soon?”

  Nash gave a short laugh. “You are the one who wanted a six-week honeymoon.”

  The trunks were ready to go, and a carriage waited in front of the villa.

  Nash took Penelope’s hand. “Do I have to drag you out?” he said, tugging her forward.

  She sighed. “No.” She looked at the floor then suddenly gazed up into his eyes. “Can we come back?”

  Nash laughed again. “Yes. Maybe on our first wedding anniversary.”

  Penelope pouted. “Or our six-month anniversary.”

  Nash shook his head. “Pace yourself. The boat ride from Rome to Dover is not fun. The honeymoon is over.”

  Penelope growled. “Don’t remind me.”

  Edward picked them up at Dover, having received the travel information sent to him from Rome just before he and Penelope boarded the boat.

  He hugged Penelope. “Did someone die?”

  She sighed. “Yes. My honeymoon.”

  Nash rolled his eyes. “Penelope changed her mind about how long she wanted to be on her honeymoon. It turns out six weeks was not long enough.”

  Edward laughed. “Oh, well. Let’s get going.”

  They entered the townhouse to greetings from the staff, pleased to have them returned. Penelope smiled. How nice. She knew she and Nash would be happy here.

  Penelope could tell Nash was itching to get to his correspondence and ledgers. He glanced at his study more than once.

  He took her by the elbow and walked her to the bottom step of the staircase.

  “Go rest, Penelope. I’ll send a footman to your mother and brother inviting them to dine with us this evening.”

  Penelope nodded. She was exhausted. The trip from Rome to Dover was as bad as Nash had warned. Every bone in her body ached with a dull, persistent throb. She slowly climbed the stairs.

  ***

  Cecilia gave Penelope a fierce hug. “I feel as if you’ve been gone for a year. Finally, you’re home.”

  Penelope laughed and drew back from her mother. “I feel as if I’ve been gone two weeks. Nash took my hand and dragged me out of the villa in Catania.”

 
Cecilia sat on the settee and patted the space next to her. “Come hear all the news and the plans for your wedding.”

  Her wedding. A week away. Penelope still had mixed feelings about the wedding. They were already married. What was she doing having a large, lavish wedding?

  But when she recovered all those years ago, and she saw the scar she had to live with, there was universal agreement that Penelope would become a spinster. Everyone had been proven wrong, and she wanted to show them how wrong they had been.