The Duke's Quandary (7 page)

“What sort of blunders?” Thinking of his father as a young man, new to the title, and not making the right decisions, was a novel thought. To him, the man had always been larger than life, strong as an anchor in port. He’d looked up to the Duke of Manchester his whole life.

“There was the time,” his mother’s eyes danced with mirth, “when he decided the steward, who your grandfather had employed for years, was cheating him, so he brought the man before him, and demanded to know where the missing money was. It turned out your father had made a simple miscalculation, and there wasn’t any money missing. The poor steward was shaking in his boots, and it took all of your father’s reasonable charm to calm the man, and assure him he was not being let go.”

Drake grinned, imagining himself doing something like that, but never his formidable father.

“So you see, son, you need to give yourself time to adjust, to grow into your title.”

“What about all these unmarried sisters?”

She rose and headed toward the door. “My dear, even your father didn’t have much success in persuading Abigail, Sybil, and Sarah to accept offers. Just give them time. They’ll make good matches, I guarantee.”

She turned back to him before opening the door. “And how is your search progressing?”

“I have my eye on a young lady.” When his mother’s eyebrows rose, he quickly added, “Or a few.” No point in having her maternal focus on him.

“Just remember to choose the woman you would want to spend the rest of your life with. And don’t discount love. I know you’re determined to make the perfect match, and disregard feelings. But love can, and should, go together with marriage.”

His back stiffened. “I’ll choose the right woman when the time comes.”

“Sometimes you don’t have to look far to find the right one. Oftentimes she is right under your very nose.” With a smile reminiscent of the cat who had just enjoyed a bowl of cream, she left the room.

What the devil did that mean
?

Chapter Ten

Penelope curtsied gracefully, without mishap, before Lord and Lady Ponsoby, her hosts for the evening. It was the come out ball for their youngest daughter, Cecily. Penelope moved down the line, and then into the ballroom, a familiar sensation of being in the wrong place washing over her.

Not that she didn’t look the part. Tonight she was dressed in yet another new gown. This one was made from the finest white muslin, with gilt threads woven into it. Dark blue flowers were embroidered throughout the gown, with a matching ribbon under the bodice, the edge of the cap sleeves, and along the bottom. As she moved, the gown shimmered from the glow of an abundance of candles burning in the ballroom.

Delicate blue slippers peeked out from under her gown, and she carried a hand painted flowered fan. All the trappings of a young lady, but nothing convinced her she really belonged here. She sighed as she made her way through the crowds, her arm linked with Sybil’s. The young woman was stopped by a number of people, the gentlemen bowing before her, the young ladies giving her hugs.

At each stop, Sybil was careful to introduce Penelope to those she hadn’t met at the last few balls. Several men requested dances, and after fumbling with the small card dangling from her wrist, she was able to inscribe the names without too much difficulty.

Already she felt breathless at the crush of people surrounding her. The ladies’ strong perfumes and men’s cologne water bombarded her senses. The noise of those trying to converse with each other, shouting above the din to be heard, only added to the confusion. How in heaven’s name did these people do this all the time? And when would she be able to flee back to her safe and quiet life in the country?

Two hours later, her feet already sore from dancing, Penelope groaned as another gentleman approached her, despite her hiding place behind a large decorative urn.

“Miss Clayton, I believe this is our dance.” A young man who wore a black coat, snug buff breeches with white stockings, and black evening slippers, held out his hand. Penelope did not remember his name, in fact didn’t remember him requesting a dance. She really should pay better attention.

They took their places with two other couples, forming a square, waiting for the fourth to join them. The quadrille made Penelope nervous with its intricate steps and changing of partners. She’d also noted that some of the ladies enjoyed flirting with men other than their partners as they switched. The entire thing only made her more confused and anxious.

To her horror, Drake and Lady Daphne became the fourth couple in their square. Drake cast her a warm smile, and Lady Daphne merely dipped her head in her direction, a slight smirk on her beautiful face. Oh, Lord. This had gone from bad to much, much worse. She looked around in a panic, trying to think of something that would get her away from here, away from the entire ball.

The first few notes started up and the couples turned toward their partners, bowed and curtsied. Then they joined hands and moved in a circle. Drake moved directly across from her, his partner as graceful as a bird as she smiled at each gentleman in turn. The first switching of partners went smoothly, and soon she was returned to her partner, Lord No Name. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

The women reached out their hands, and came together in the center, colorful dresses and jewels sparkling in the light as they turned, first one way, then the other. They backed up and the gentlemen circled together. Penelope took a deep breath. Then the weaving in and out commenced again, and she turned in the wrong direction, crashing into the gentlemen to her rear.

“Just relax, Miss Clayton.” Drake had ended up next to her after her mishap, smoothly joining their crossed hands behind their backs, and twirling her around before releasing her so she was once again back with Lord No Name, who looked a bit confused. He turned to the lady behind him, who apparently was supposed to be his partner for this part of the dance.

“No Penelope, Mr. Dane is on your left,” Drake called from where he twirled another lady.

“Oh, goodness.” Penelope swung back and barely missed being struck in her ribs by a gentleman whose name she didn’t know. In fact, she had no idea who Mr. Dane was. Could he be Lord No Name?

Almost brought to tears by the confusion, she whirled around and was deftly caught by Lord No Name, his face flushed. “Miss Clayton, just turn to your left, er, right, that is.”

Lady Daphne came to an abrupt halt and pointed her gloved finger in her direction. “This is ridiculous. Miss Clayton, you’ve confused us all.”

“No, not at all.” Drake rearranged everyone until they were back together where they started. “Now after the next few beats, we will start again, and it will be fine.” He smiled at Penelope, who wondered what the chances were of the floor opening under her so she could fall through.

“In fact,” he added, “I shall switch places with Lord Wolverton, and you, sir, can partner Lady Daphne.”

“Your Grace!” Lady Daphne cried.

“It will be fine. Here we go.” He bowed to Penelope, who curtsied and they were off and running again. Only this time, Drake whispered instructions in her ear every time they neared each other. Amazingly enough, the dance went fine, despite the fact that Penelope was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration by the time they had finished.

…

Drake bowed to Penelope as the dance ended.

“Excuse me.” She picked up her skirts and hurried away from him.

“Let her go, Your Grace.” Lady Daphne glanced in the direction of her mother watching nearby with the other matrons. The girl flashed him a smile as she slipped her arm in his. “I would love a breath of fresh air. Will you stroll with me on the terrace?”

“I would be delighted.” He escorted her through the throng of guests returning from the dance.

“You know, as Mother pointed out, that poor girl really is quite clumsy.” Lady Daphne took a deep breath as they stepped through the French doors, once again slanting a look in her mother’s direction.

“Are you speaking of Miss Clayton?” He could not fathom why the thought of Lady Sirey criticizing Penelope annoyed him. The chit was clumsy, in fact from what he’d observed, she rarely got through a day without some sort of debacle. But having someone point it out brought out his protective mode. He was, after all, responsible for the girl, right along with his mother and sisters.

“Yes. She doesn’t seem to belong, or for that matter, want to belong. I feel sorry for her.”

And why did it irritate him that Lady Daphne felt sorry for Penelope? Miss Clayton was an intelligent, lovely woman, who had much to offer. There was no reason for pity. “She hasn’t had much experience in Society.”

“What is she even doing here? Does Her Grace imagine she will be able to find a husband for her?” She wandered over to the marble balustrade, and rested her hands there, looking out to the rose garden below. “I’ve heard whispers that she actually delves into science.”

“I’m not sure Miss Clayton is interested in a husband, actually.” He joined her, leaning against the pillar, gazing toward the darkened part of the garden.

Lady Daphne sighed and closed her eyes. “Mother is anxious for me to make a match this Season. Father was upset when I turned down several offers last year. But my mother felt I could do better.”

Even though that was precisely what he wanted to hear, a sense of missing something nudged him. Here was a woman who would do what was right, with no concerns about love or other romantic twaddle. “Do you ever think you might want to marry for love?”

Lady Daphne’s eyes snapped open, and she hesitated briefly. “I doubt my mother would allow that.”

“But what about you?” The words were out before he even realized he’d thought them. Bloody hell, he was beginning to sound like his fanciful sisters.

She glanced at him with sorrowful eyes. “I will do my duty.”

Drake reached for her hand just as something caught his attention beyond Lady Daphne’s shoulder. In a darkened corner of the garden a couple conversed, but what caught his eye was the glint of gold on the woman’s dress. Penelope!

What was she thinking meeting a man in the garden? And far away from where they could be observed. And why wasn’t his mother dragging her back into the ballroom? He withdrew from Lady Daphne. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I will escort you back. There is something I need to take care of.”

She turned to where he stared, but he quickly placed her arm in his and hustled her through the French doors. “Ah, I see the next set is starting up. I’m sure your partner will be looking for you.” He kissed her hand and left.

The beginning strains of a waltz summoned couples from the patio, making it difficult for Drake to ease through the door to return to the garden. Eventually, he cleared it, and hurried to where he’d seen Penelope. Once he spotted the two figures, he strode down the steps, and across the garden path.

“I’m very happy to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Smythe, but as I’ve said, I must return to the ballroom before Her Grace misses me.” Penelope attempted to pull her hand free from the man who clutched it.

“Let the lady go,” Drake growled.

Penelope’s shoulders slumped as Drake clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder, and he immediately released her. He spun the man around. “Smythe?”

David Smythe, the notorious third son of Viscount Digby, had a reputation for pursuing wealthy young ladies. It had been known for several years that the man was deeply in debt, and needed a woman with a substantial dowry to clear his vowels and maintain his comfortable life style.

“What do you think you’re doing, man?” Drake turned to Penelope. “Miss Clayton, please return to the ballroom and find my mother. I will speak to you when I am finished here.”

Smythe backed up, tugging on the cuffs of his evening coat. “I don’t know what you’re raising such a breeze over. I was merely talking to the girl.”

Drake leaned in close to the man, causing him to back up once again. “Let’s get something straight, old boy. Miss Clayton is a guest of Her Grace and is under my protection. She is a lady, and you well know a lady doesn’t dally with a
gentleman
outside of her chaperone’s sight. And from what I could see, she was attempting to leave your presence, and you were preventing her from doing that.”

“The chit was flirting with me.”

Thinking of shy Penelope, so inept in social matters and engrossed in her science, the man’s comment was almost laughable. Except seeing Smythe’s hand on Penelope did nothing to inject humor into his mood.

“If I see you anywhere near her again, or if I observe you even glancing in her direction, you will be a very sorry man. Do I make myself clear?”

Smythe gave a brisk nod, and Drake turned before he gave way to the temptation to land a facer on the man.

And now to deal with my houseguest.

…

“Miss Clayton, may I speak with you in the library, please?” Drake handed his hat and gloves to Stevens, then turned on his heel and strode away.

Abigail’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Penelope. “What is that all about?”

Terrified at facing Drake’s wrath, Penelope could only shake her head, the ability to speak having momentarily fled. She wished she could do so as well.

“Whatever the matter is, it doesn’t concern any of us, so off to bed, girls.” Despite her words, Her Grace studied Penelope for a moment, clearly interested herself.

They’d just arrived home from the Ponsoby ball. Drake had come in after his confrontation with Mr. Smythe, and had coolly informed his mother it was time to depart. Despite her obvious surprise at his announcement, she agreed she was weary, and it would be best if they left.

Drake had ignored Penelope, except to offer his hand to help her alight from the carriage. He’d taken her elbow as well when she missed the bottom step. Even then, he had avoided her eyes, and the set of his jaw told her all she needed to know about his state of mind. She’d blundered again, and now had to face the consequences of the duke’s wrath. Stiffening her back, she wiped her damp palms down the front of her dress and followed him on shaky legs.

He stood by the sideboard, pouring a glass of brandy. “Would you care for a sherry, or perhaps some tea?”

“No, thank you.” The words came out breathless, but considering the banging of her heart, and her difficulty accessing any air, it was a wonder she could speak at all.

“Please, have a seat.” Drake indicated a chair by the fireplace.

Penelope sat at the very edge, back straight, her hands tightly clasped in her lap, stiff fingers gripping her reticule. Drake set his glass down on the table next to her, then paced. After a few moments of strained silence, she mustered some courage, and looked up. “You wished to speak with me?”

“Yes I do.” He stopped abruptly and faced her, the pulse in his neck visibly pumping. “What in heaven’s name were you doing in the darkest part of the garden with that rogue?”

Tears rushed to her eyes at the anger in his tone, but she blinked furiously, refusing to make matters worse by collapsing into feminine hysteria. She raised her chin, and eyed him. “I assure you I did nothing wrong.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure you didn’t, but a young lady does not spend time with a man beyond the sight of her chaperone, or even other people. You should know this.”

“I repeat, I did nothing wrong. I merely went for a breath of fresh air after that disaster in the ballroom. Mr. Smythe apparently spotted me from the terrace, and, of his own accord, joined me in the garden. I did not invite him, did not encourage him, and tried to return to the ballroom, but he refused to let me go.”

Placing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned in, causing her to back up. His hazel eyes had deepened with anger. The little bit of air between them was filled with the scent of brandy, bay rum cologne, and the unique essence that was Drake.

Her stomach muscles tightened with his nearness as much as the anger directed toward her. Despite her precarious position at the moment, she had the overwhelming urge to move just a few inches forward and once again taste him. Would his second kiss affect her as much as the first one? Did she even want to know?