The Duke's Quandary (Entangled Scandalous)

by Hutton, Callie

  “Yes, it is indeed a lovely morning.”

  “Is Penelope giving you a lesson in botany, Marion?” he teased, smiling in his sister’s direction.

  “Yes. I am so impressed with her knowledge. She has been able to identify every plant and flower in the garden. And by their Latin names!”

  The pleasure on Penelope’s face at Marion’s compliment was like a punch to the gut. He was merely trying to be polite, but her reaction to his sister’s praise reminded him botany was something very serious that meant a great deal to her.

  “Well ladies, enjoy your walk.” He moved past them, and then turned. “Penelope, may I see you in the library when you return?”

  As he continued on his way, he thought back to his mother’s comments the previous evening about her fear of Penelope hiding herself. It appeared the girl had instead convinced Marion to leave her self-imposed captivity. There was a lot more to her than met the eye. She might be socially inept and shy, but he’d bet underneath that soft appearance, she had a spine of steel.

  …

  As they resumed their walk, Penelope fought a wave of butterflies in her stomach, thinking back on last night’s encounter. But she needed to speak with Drake anyway, to request a carriage and a maid to travel with her to Aunt Phoebe’s house. She’d sent along a note to the woman early this morning, asking to be granted an audience this afternoon. Since Aunt Phoebe no longer held ‘at home’ days, they would have privacy when Penelope asked to be sent back to the country.

  The glow in Marion’s cheeks and how she exclaimed over everything in the garden made Penelope a bit uncomfortable about her plan. How could she abandon the young widow who was just now coming out of her isolation?

  Marion tugged Penelope closer. “Now you must tell me about your ball last evening.”

  Once again memories of the disastrous dance, Mr. Smythe accosting her in the garden, and then the kiss, flooded her mind, causing her heart to pump harder, and surely to bring a blush to her cheeks. Then another incident she’d relegated to the back of her mind suddenly made an appearance.

  As she had made her way through the ballroom in search of Her Grace, she’d overheard Lady Sirey refer to her as “Clumsy Clayton” to a group of matrons. She’d loudly whispered this appellation behind her fan, apparently meaning for her to hear it. Gales of feminine laughter had followed her to the duchess’s side. More humiliating had been the look of sympathy the duchess had sent her.

  Bringing herself back to the present, she was horrified to feel two tears slide down her cheeks.

  Marion viewed her with raised eyebrows. “Oh dear. What happened?”

  Penelope shook her head. “Nothing really. Well, I did make a cake of myself during a quadrille.” She wiped her cheeks and attempted a smile. “Your brother was kind enough to shift everyone around so I was his partner, and he guided me through the steps.” That was as far as she would go on about Drake, both in speech and thought. The rest of it she still had to muddle through in her mind before she could make sense of it.

  “That sounds very much like Drake. He is a very loving, compassionate person, you know. I hear from my sisters he’s become quite high in the instep since he’s become duke, but his visits to me have not shown that side of him.”

  “Yes, I agree. He is very kind.”

  And confusing.

  …

  Shortly after the exchange with Drake they headed back to the house. Marion went directly to her room, pleading fatigue. Penelope was ridding herself of her bonnet and gloves when Drake strolled down the corridor.

  He watched his sister disappear from the top of the stairs, and then turned his attention to Penelope. “May I speak with you now?” He waved in the direction of the library.

  “Certainly.” Penelope felt ready to face him, and then request a carriage and companion for her visit to Aunt Phoebe.

  Once she was seated, he settled himself behind his desk and smiled. Fully. Her insides melted and she had the sudden urge to fan herself. Heavens, that smile could be bottled and sold as a cure for. . .well, just about anything. She pushed her thoughts aside when she realized he was speaking. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

  “No matter, I was merely commenting on the weather. What I really wanted to say was how very impressed I am with what I saw just now. In fact, one could say I am speechless. However did you accomplish in such a short time what my family has been trying to do for two years?”

  Penelope shrugged. “It was Marion’s decision. Perhaps she was ready, and I happened to be there when she decided.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “Well thank you very much, but I am not sure I had much to do with it.” Uncomfortable with his praise, she shifted in her seat, waiting for an opening to ask for a carriage.

  “In any event, I asked to speak to you because I want to apologize for my behavior last evening. It was inappropriate given your status in our household.” Drake ran his fingers through his hair. “It will never happen again, I can assure you.”

  Despite an overwhelming desire to return to her comfortable life in the country, his easy dismissal of a moment that had meant so much to her, stung. Did he share so many kisses with young ladies that he could brush it off so easily?

  To her it had been the most exciting thing in her life. The kiss he’d given her in the garden had been brief. Too quick, and surprising, for her to appreciate it. But last night she’d felt the stirring of something new and interesting. And now he apologized as if he’d done something wrong. Well, perhaps it had been wrong, but that didn’t mean he had to actually say that.

  She drew herself up, and raised her chin. “I agree. It was inappropriate and I’m sure it will not happen again.”

  Instead of looking aggrieved, her statement seemed to amuse him, and his lips twitched. He glanced down and began to shuffle his papers.

  Very well, she would be adult about it too. “While I am here, may I request the use of one of your carriages this afternoon, as well as the services of a maid or companion?”

  Drake leaned back in his chair, his elbow resting on the armrest, his thumb and index finger bracing his jaw. His deep hazel eyes bored into her, leaving her breathless. “Of course you may have what you need. Am I permitted to ask where you are going?”

  “I wish to pay a call on my Aunt Phoebe. She requested I visit with her while I am your guest, and I’m afraid I’ve been neglectful of her wishes.” There, she sounded quite grown up and ladylike.

  Drake smiled slowly, his eyes dancing with mirth. Did he not believe her? “If it is all the same with you, I would like to accompany you, since I have just this morning received some documents I wish to discuss with Lady Bellinghan.”

  Her heart dropped like a stone when she realized he would be present when she again appeared foolish by begging to be sent back to the country like a frightened child. Drat. She would have to find a way to speak with Aunt Phoebe in private. “Would four o’clock be acceptable?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Will one of my sisters be coming along also?”

  For heaven’s sake this trip that was supposed to be somewhat of a private matter would soon turn into the social event of the Season. “No. I believe Her Grace and your sisters are planning a shopping trip. Since I feel more than adequately outfitted, I thought it would be a good time to see my aunt.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Adequately outfitted? Truly a unique concept for a young woman. Then I look forward to our trip.” He nodded, obviously dismissing her. Apparently the only reason he had wished to see her was to make sure she understood his kisses meant absolutely nothing, and she should in no way expect any more.

  Wrapping a mantle of pride about her, she rose to leave the room. At the door, a quick glance back revealed Drake reaching for his pen, busy once again with his papers.

  …

  With a firm click, the door closed. Drake returned the pen into its holder and sat back, his fingers tented and resti
ng against his lips. So the little scientist managed to get his sister out of her room and actually outdoors? The combined efforts of all in his family had not budged Marion in two years. Yet Penelope had accomplished that in only a few weeks. There was something about her that touched him in a place he’d been avoiding since Father had died. Something soft and comfortable.

  If that’s so, why do you become hard and uncomfortable when she’s up close?

  How he wished it was merely physical attraction he felt for Penelope. That he could handle—and dismiss. He’d had control over his carnal urges for many years now. But something else about her had pulled at him from the very beginning.

  There was so much regarding the young woman to admire. Her strength, kindness, and caring. And her intelligence, remembering the book he’d caught her reading, and her knowledge of the plant life in his own garden. She would truly be a wonderful wife and mother. For someone other than himself, that is. He needed poise and sophistication, so whatever it was that made him forget himself when they were alone needed to stop.

  In any event, it bothered him that someone had been making fun of her last night. His mother had refused to say who the guilty party had been, but he would keep an eye out at Lord and Lady Wetherby’s ball tomorrow evening.

  It didn’t sit well with him that a young lady under his family’s protection would be the subject of ridicule. She might not be sophisticated or socially adept, but she had a good heart and deserved to be treated with respect. Look what she’d already done for Marion.

  A knock at the door drew his attention. His secretary, Mr. Gladstone, entered with the morning post. It was time to put aside these distractions and get some work done. He waved the man into the seat Penelope had vacated and reached for the mail.

  Chapter Twelve

  Drake helped Penelope into the phaeton, then walked to the other side to climb in. His matched pair of Cleveland Bays stood at the ready, tossing their heads, anxious to be off. Since the weather was pleasant, he had decided to take the smaller vehicle and drive himself. With it being an open carriage, there was no need for the maid, so the two of them set off under sunny skies.

  All in all, it had been a productive day thus far. He and Gladstone had gotten a great deal of correspondence out of the way. Drake patted his pocket to assure himself the papers he needed to discuss with Lady Bellinghan were secure. He cast a glance at Penelope, amused at what her reaction was likely to be when he presented them.

  He could have had a messenger deliver the papers, with a short note to the woman for her perusal, but the matter was best discussed in person. When Penelope had mentioned she wanted to visit with her aunt, the idea had entered his head almost of its own accord. So here they sat, side by side, heading toward Mayfair.

  The slight flush on Penelope’s face was quite becoming. Her hair had been pulled up into a loose topknot, from which soft strands fell, tickling her cheeks as the slight breeze teased them. “I do so love being outdoors. Just look at all the greenery and lovely flowers.” She took a deep breath, and grinned at him. “Isn’t it a magnificent day?”

  He nodded, caught up in Miss Clayton’s almost childlike enthusiasm for the simple things in life. It gave her a charm most ladies of the ton would pay a king’s ransom for.

  “I see you’ve decided to wear your spectacles.” Drake eased their way into the crowds heading toward an afternoon ride in Hyde Park. They would pass through the park and continue on to the east edge and Mayfair.

  “Yes, and I must thank you for that. It never occurred to me that the very thing Aunt Phoebe cautioned would discourage young men is exactly what I should be doing. Now I can see clearly, and the gentlemen will avoid me.” She cast him a smug smile.

  “And what of the gentlemen who would not be put off by your spectacles?”

  She dismissed him with a shake of her head. “Oh, I doubt there are any of those.”

  “I don’t know. I rather like your spectacles. I think they fit your persona.” Indeed, they did fit her. Instead of making her look studious, or like a bluestocking, she came across young and refreshing. Or perhaps it was her personality. It cheered him to see how relaxed she was with him. Maybe he was growing on her. Or her on him. A frightening prospect, that.

  Apparently choosing to ignore his half-compliment, she smiled softly, then ducked her head and fiddled with her reticule.

  Drake tugged the ribbons wrapped around his fingers, guiding the horses into the park. Being the fashionable hour to ride on Rotten Row, they were soon surrounded by slow moving carriages, their occupants calling to others strolling along or riding. “I should have circled the park instead of going through it. I’d forgotten this was the time for London to revere itself.”

  “My goodness. So very many people are out admiring the plants and flowers.” Penelope’s neck twisted as she took in the hordes of riders and walkers.

  Drake chuckled. “No. These people have come to see and be seen. They have very little, if any, interest in their surroundings. Now is the time to show oneself off, and hear on dits to fuel the gossip mill.”

  “Truly?” Penelope looked heartbroken, as if someone had stomped on her favorite flowers. “How sad that they prefer gossip to nature’s wonders.”

  “Manchester!” A shrill feminine voice grabbed his attention before he was able to respond to Penelope’s comment. He groaned slightly as an open carriage bearing Lady Sirey and two of her compatriots, Lady Nelson and Lady Beauchamp, along with their daughters, headed toward them, causing him to pull up on the ribbons, less the phaeton crash into them.

  Amidst the giggling and fawning of the ladies, young and old, Lady Daphne sat serene and aloof, a picture of the quiescent lady. Her blond hair was swept back into a chignon, anchored severely at her neck. Her carriage gown was pale blue, covered by a spencer in a deeper shade, studded with tiny pearls. A confection that he was sure she called a hat rested on one side of her head. She protected her alabaster skin with a delicate white parasol that she twirled lightly. She cast him a practiced smile.

  Mentally, he compared the woman he felt would be his perfect duchess to the one sitting alongside him. Penelope was everything Lady Daphne was not. Enthusiastic and ingenuous, with a keenness for simple things. Very much like his mother. But not, he assured himself, someone he would want to hold the title of his duchess.

  He immediately felt guilty, remembering the fun times in his childhood because of Mother’s keenness for simple things. After all, how many duchesses went sledding with their seven children? Or rescued stray puppies? Or organized games for the village children? Confused at where his thoughts were taking him, he almost missed Penelope slipping from the carriage. “Where are you going?”

  “Right over there.” She pointed toward a clump of bushes. “I want to see that plant closer up.” She clutched her skirts in her hands and hastened away, her bonnet sliding from her head, the ribbons holding it fast, allowing it to bounce on her back with each step.

  Drake’s head snapped around when he heard a giggle from Lady Sirey’s carriage. Lady Nelson’s hand covered her mouth, apparently pretending to disguise her laugh at Penelope’s actions. She looked pointedly at the other two mothers, and then at the girls until all were ducking their heads, hands covering their grins. Except Lady Daphne, who merely cast an indulgent smiled as if observing the actions of a young child.

  Annoyance rose in him. Was this yet another group of ladies who would make Penelope’s life unbearable as she moved about in Society? A flash of discomfort settled in his stomach at the thought that perhaps it was this group who had tagged her “Clumsy Clayton” as his mother had mentioned.

  “Your Grace, might we expect to see you this evening at Lord and Lady Hingham’s musicale? My daughter will be singing, and I’m sure you will be delighted at her performance. She has such a sweet voice. It’s been commented on many times.” Lady Sirey leaned forward as she patted Lady Daphne’s hand.

  “I expect so, my lady. I believe my mother mentione
d attending, and I will be escorting the ladies.”

  “Do you sing, Miss Clayton?” Lady Beauchamp smirked at Penelope, as she attempted to climb back into the phaeton, clutching a small plant, its roots dangling. Drake wrapped the ribbons around the dash rail and quickly took her arm to help her up.

  “Oh dear, I’m afraid not. Although I enjoy singing, Father always said I sounded like an injured hound.” She pushed her spectacles further up on her nose and settled herself next to Drake, carefully placing the plant at her feet.

  Her bonnet still swung from her neck, and a tiny smear of dirt besmirched her chin. But her smile was bright and genuine.

  “Will you be attending tonight’s entertainment as well, Miss Clayton?” Lady Nelson’s eldest daughter, Lady Matilda, smirked. The girl now faced her fourth Season without an offer. Although not bad looking, her caustic tongue and prickly personality had driven away more than one potential suitor.

  After each unsuccessful Season, her father had raised her dowry. Rumor held that Lord Nelson would not allow his younger daughters to accept offers until he had Lady Matilda off his hands.

  …

  Penelope hesitated to answer the girl’s question. If Aunt Phoebe agreed to her request, she hoped to be on her way back to the country by the time the musicale took place tonight. She just had to be successful. Even now, this short carriage ride to see her aunt had displayed, quite publicly, how poorly she conducted herself.

  Not considering the consequences, she’d alighted from the phaeton to investigate the unique plant. She should have realized her actions would not be well received by the women grinning at her from their carriage. All of them looking perfectly put together. And most likely she’d again embarrassed Drake.

  Stiffening her spine and raising her chin, she decided to take the high road. “If Her Grace and the girls are attending, then I will be there as well.” Even if Aunt Phoebe agreed to let her return to the country, most likely she wouldn’t be able to leave until tomorrow, anyway. She would not show her discomfort in front of these women. They meant nothing to her.