Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “– and you have one more fitting for your dress. What do you think?”

  Penelope hadn’t heard what her mother said, but it didn’t matter. She knew her mother did a great job fulfilling Penelope’s wishes.

  “That sounds wonderful, Mother,” she gushed.

  The smile on Cecilia’s face was enough. Penelope knew she had done well.

  “Is your dress ready, or will you have your final fitting with me?”

  Cecilia smiled again. “It’s home. I’ll show it to you when you visit next. I’m pleased.”

  Nash and Edward stood in the corner of the parlour talking at a barely audible volume.

  “He has been quiet. We haven’t heard a thing. If it weren’t for sightings at White’s, I’m not sure I’d even know he was in town. And Avery has been keeping a low profile. He still meets with his cronies regularly, but he’s more concerned about his image than anything else.

  “He took a hit to his reputation when he announced Penelope’s engagement at the ball. He’s had to work on recovering from that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks for your help backing up his story.”

  Nash nodded. He’d help Avery if he could. Just not at the expense of Penelope.

  Nash looked over at Penelope and Cecilia, heads together talking about the wedding. He smiled. This wedding would be good for her.

  Chapter 19

  Penelope sat on a bench in the garden, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sun, the smell of roses in the air.

  “Well, well. There is the honeymoon girl. Did Nash have to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see your face when he swived you?”

  Penelope stood and started walking to the townhouse. She would make sure the outside entrance to the garden was locked from now on.

  Henry raised his voice as he saw Penelope’s back getting further and further away. When she was close to the door, he said, “I’m going to ruin you. This is not over. It will never be over.”

  “I was in the garden when a man came in and asked directions. I thought it best if we locked the door from the street to the garden.”

  Nash walked the length of the parlour and sat next to Penelope. “Did he threaten you? Did he say anything inappropriate?”

  Penelope touched her hand to Nash’s cheek. “No, nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman.”

  Penelope didn’t like to lie to Nash, but she didn’t want him arrested for pummeling Henry to death either. Hopefully, Henry would stop his futile attempts to get a rise out of her. If she could figure out what could make him back off, then Nash would be none the wiser.

  The following day, Penelope and her maid Helen walked to the cobbler on Bond Street to pick up her slippers and stockings for the wedding. It was a fine, sunny day, and Penelope took her time, in no hurry to go back inside.

  Her slippers were beautiful and fit perfectly. The silk stockings were delicate, and Penelope wondered how long they would last before they ran. No matter. You only get married once. Oops. Penelope giggled to herself.

  “Well, aren’t you in a good mood today, Penelope. No doubt thinking about your big wedding. The wedding I will disrupt and ruin for you. I’ll have so much fun doing it, too. Will I see you cry? Oh, I hope so.”

  Penelope looked at Helen, tilted her head, and picked up the pace. Penelope had told her of the possibility that this might happen. She told her to ignore him, not to talk to him, and walked faster.

  “You can try to ignore me, Penelope, but you will crack. I look forward to watching you blow up. Will it be during an outing like this? Will it be at the altar of the church in front of hundreds of people?”

  Penelope and Helen walked up the stairs to the townhouse, and Coleman opened the door. They hurried into the master bedchamber and shut the door.

  Penelope leaned her back against the shut door until her breathing was even and regular. “Helen, you did well. If we are out, and he comes near us again, I want you to do the same as you did today.”

  “Your Grace, you need to tell the Duke he did this. You could be in danger.”

  “I’ll handle it, Helen. Just remember how we will handle it together when we are out. Just like today.”

  Every time Penelope and Helen went out, Henry found them and harassed Penelope all the way back to the townhouse. At each successive rant, Henry’s voice revealed more desperation. His plan to disrupt Penelope and send her into a panic or fury failed. He mostly threatened to ruin her wedding, but he was not invited, and there would be plenty of security there, so she knew it was an empty threat.

  Penelope stuck to her plan. Arguing with Henry was a complete waste of time. Telling Nash would cause him to do something he would most definitely regret. Or, if he didn’t regret it, he would do something that would get him into a lot of trouble.

  Penelope stepped from the carriage on Bond Street and asked a footman to assist her with her packages. In the milliners, she picked up three hats. A few doors down she picked up six pairs of dyed gloves with the swatches they used to make the match.

  The footman put the packages in the carriage then helped Penelope and Helen in. The lurch told Penelope the carriage was on the way back to the townhouse. She glanced out the window and saw Henry leaning against a wrought iron fence, his hands in fists.

  Chapter 20

  The wedding was a few days away, and Penelope needed to know what Henry was doing and if he had some special plan in that twisted mind of his.

  “Helen, get ready. We are going for a stroll through the park.”

  She looked at Penelope, her brow furrowed. “It’s cloudy and may rain soon, Your Grace.”

  Penelope walked to the window and looked up at the sky. “Oh, it will be fine, Helen.”

  Penelope took an umbrella in case she needed it, and they stepped down the townhouse stairs to the pavement. As she hoped, Henry followed Penelope. She ignored him, but that didn’t stop him from carrying on a one-way conversation with her.

  “See, Penelope? I’m right here by your side. You can count on it. I will never leave you. All the way to the end. Your end.

  “I don’t care about your wedding. I’m interested in spending time with you long after the wedding has taken place. I’ll follow you until the day you die, whenever that may be.”

  It began to rain, so Penelope and Helen put up their umbrellas, and he turned around. They walked by Henry as if he weren’t there.

  “Yes, it would be a shame if something bad happened, and you got sick or died. I would find that distressing. You’ve had a narrow escape before, and you were lucky you made it out. I hope your luck doesn’t run out.”

  Penelope and Helen walked up the stairs, and the door of the townhouse opened. Coleman helped her with her coat. She went to her bedchamber with Helen and changed into a dry gown.

  “I’ll be in the library at my writing desk,” she told Helen.

  Nash entered the library and smiled at Penelope. “Hello. What are you doing there?”

  Penelope lifted her head and smiled. “Just correspondence. It was a quiet day, so I thought I’d try to accomplish something.”

  Nash nodded. “You’ve got the wedding jitters.”

  Penelope laughed. “I do not.”

  Nash smiled. “You do. It’s perfectly normal although you already know what you’re getting into. Don’t forget. We want them to see you go down the aisle.”

  “Yes, but I still need to make the trip.”

  “And what a happy trip it will be. I’ll see you at dinner, my dear.”

  “Cecilia and Edward will be here.”

  “Even better.”

  Penelope slumped at her writing desk when Nash shut the door behind him. She didn’t want him to know anything about Henry’s harassment. If he knew she was documenting it, he’d know it was serious, and he’d get involved.

  Penelope sat and took a long breath before beginning to write. She spent the better part of two hours writing, explaining every one-sided conversation she and Henry had. And she explained why she didn
’t tell Nash.

  When she finished three copies of the letter, she folded each one, and sealed them with her seal. She rose and went to Coleman.

  “Have my carriage brought around, and let Helen know we are going out.”

  The first stop was the office of the London Times newspaper.

  “Hello, may I help you?” the clerk at the desk inside the door asked.

  Penelope stood straight and summoned her most commanding voice. “Yes, Penelope Finch, Duchess of Norfolk to see the editor.”

  The clerk rose to his feet and bowed. “Your Grace. This way.”

  Penelope followed the clerk all the way to the back of the building, passing desks of workers with papers piled high in a haphazard fashion that made Penelope nervous the stacks would fall over at any minute. Paper littered the floor, and the wastebaskets were full of more paper, some crumpled up. Penelope couldn’t imagine working in this chaos.

  “Mr Tomlinson, may I present the Duchess of Norfolk,” the clerk said then left, closing the office door behind him. Mr Tomlinson did not wear his suit coat and had pushed up his sleeves a few inches to keep the fabric out of the way of ink. His hair was mussed from having dragged his hand through it. Penelope guessed he did so very often given the state of his hair. Penelope did not think Mr Tomlinson shaved this morning. His face was a field of stubble.

  Mr Tomlinson stood and bowed. “Your Grace.” He gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat.

  “May I offer you tea?”

  “Thank you, Mr Tomlinson, but no. I have a rather unusual request of you. I would like to give you a document,” Penelope did not attempt to retrieve the document from her reticule, “to be published in the case of my death. Is that something you can do?”

  Mr Tomlinson sat forward and put his arms on his desk. “That depends, Your Grace. What is the nature of this document?”

  “This conversation is confidential, Mr Tomlinson?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “I am being threatened. The man who threatens me follows me through London’s streets. His threats began as small nuisances and inconveniences. They escalated and now include bodily harm and death.

  “I want the information I give you to be under lock and key and to be used upon my death. What you publish will cause Scotland Yard to investigate and ultimately convict the murderer. Is this possible Mr Tomlinson?”

  Mr Tomlinson sat back in his seat. “Your Grace. This is possible unless the man you name in the document is your husband. Under those circumstances, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your wishes.”

  Penelope smiled. “No, it is not my husband.”

  Mr Tomlinson turned away then looked at Penelope. “Your Grace, may I ask why the Duke has not come, given the seriousness of the circumstances?”

  Penelope sat straight in her chair. “My husband becomes very emotional to threats against me. When he is highly emotional, things have a way of becoming unpredictable.” She would not tell Mr Tomlinson that she believed she could handle this on her own, without the help of a man.

  Mr Tomlinson stood and went to his safe, turning the wheel right, left, and right. Penelope heard the click and saw him grab the arm and push it down before pulling it out.

  “Your Grace?” Tomlinson said as he walked to her. She pulled the sealed letter out of her reticule and handed it over.

  Mr Tomlinson walked back to the safe, placed the letter in an area in the back, then shut the door and rolled the dial.

  Penelope rose. “Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.”

  He bowed. “Your Grace.”

  Her next stop was the solicitor representing the Finch family and the Norfolk County seat. A clerk ushered her in to see Mr Matheson, and he closed the door behind him.

  Mr Matheson stood and bowed when Penelope walked in. “Tea, Your Grace?”

  “No. I won’t be here that long.”

  Mr Matheson was a man in his late 30s who wore little round glasses. He constantly moved his head, shifting left, right, up, down to get the best angle to read a document in front of him.

  For now, he put aside the document he had been reading before Penelope arrived and folded his hands on the bare wood of his desk.

  “Mr Matheson, are the files you have on our business dealings locked?”

  Mr Matheson looked surprised at the question. “Yes, Your Grace. Unless I am actively working on a folder, your papers are always locked.”

  “And Mr Matheson, who can access these files?”

  Matheson furrowed his brow but continued, “I have the only key. My clerks need to ask me to unlock a cabinet if they need access to a file.”

  Penelope gave a small smile. “And Mr Matheson, besides my husband and myself, who can direct you to open those files?”

  Mr Matheson patiently answered, “No one. Until you have a child. If you have a child, and the child has a guardian, then the guardian could direct us to open your files. When the child is old enough, no matter if under your care or the care of a guardian, he or she has access to the files.”

  Penelope sat back in her chair. She smiled. “Thank you, Mr Matheson.” She took the letter out of her reticule and handed it to the solicitor.

  “This is a letter summarizing the harassment I have received from a gentleman. The harassment has escalated to his threat of my death. I want you to lock it in your file and do nothing with it unless you hear of my death. If you do hear of my death, please take it to Scotland Yard so they can investigate and find the killer.”

  “Your Grace, shouldn’t your husband be handling this?”

  Penelope sighed. “I am a very capable person, Mr Matheson. I fear my husband would be very angry about these incidents, and someone might be beaten so bloodied that my husband’s actions would be counterproductive.”

  “I see.” Mr Matheson nodded.

  “Yes, I believe you do,” Penelope said. “So, here is the letter, to be opened upon my death.”

  Mr Matheson came around the desk. He dug out his keys from his vest pocket and put a key in one of the cabinets located in his office. He opened the door and pulled out the files belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. After putting them on his desk, he took the letter Penelope gave him and added it to one of the files. He put the files back in the cabinet and locked the cabinet drawer.

  Two out of three complete.

  Avery’s butler Waters was surprised and pleased to see Penelope. He gave a small smile, but his eyes danced. She wanted to hug him, her fondness for him bubbling up, but of course, she did not.

  “Waters, I am here to see Avery. Is he at home? I have a business matter I must speak to him about immediately. Preferably, in his study.”

  Waters bowed. “I shall return shortly.”

  True to his word, Waters returned. “He will see you in his study.”

  “Uncle Avery,” Penelope said and curtsied.

  Avery bowed.

  “Have a seat, my dear,” he said while sweeping his hand toward a seat across from his desk.

  “May I call for tea?” he asked.

  “No, Uncle, not on my account.”

  Penelope was surprised that Avery took the chair next to her instead of the one behind his desk. She adjusted her seat slightly and began.

  “I’m not sure if you are aware of it, but Henry has been following me around. He is no longer welcome at the Duke’s home, so he follows me on the street. While following me, he makes wild remarks about how I became a Duchess as well as threatening me with bodily harm and even death.”

  Penelope stopped, searching for a reaction in Avery’s eyes, but she found none. His mouth had a slight upturn on one side. She knew he thought she had no power against him or Henry, and this was a waste of his time.

  She proceeded, “I had to give a lot of thought to how I could make Henry permanently stop harassing me. You may have already discounted me in your mind, thinking I, as a woman, even a Duchess do not have any rights and need to live with Henry.

  “I have left a le
tter with the London Times and another with Nash’s and my solicitor explaining the circumstances under which Henry has threatened me.

  “Should I die, the editor of the newspaper, as well as our solicitor, has been instructed to open the letters and use them to investigate Henry as the killer.

  “An unflattering write up in the newspaper would, on its own, cause concern among your peers. A murder investigation would end your carefully constructed reputation.”

  Avery was pale. So pale, Penelope thought he might pass out. He stared straight ahead avoiding Penelope’s eyes.