A line formed between his brows. “Should we send for the doctor?”
“No, dear. Miss Chambers did look a bit pale and shaky, but she assured me it was a minor thing.”
The four entered the dining room, taking their seats. Despite a tempting dinner of roast duck, broiled salmon, braised beef and a selection of vegetables, Penrose remained distracted throughout the meal. Merry had seemed all right when he’d seen her this afternoon. God, how hard it had been to not race across the room and pull her into his arms, right there in front of everyone. The only way he was able to control himself was to practically ignore her.
He frowned. After dinner he would go to her room and reassure himself she wasn’t seriously ill. Penrose patted his pocket to feel the sapphire and diamond ring he’d retrieved from the safe this afternoon. For generations the ring had been given to every duchess on her betrothal. It had been hard not to confide in his mother, but as much as he loved the woman, she would likely spoil the surprise before he had the chance to propose to Merry tomorrow evening, right before the ball.
Penrose smiled to himself. He’d had no idea when his annoyance with Merry had changed to desire, and then to something akin to love. Hell, it was love. He loved the minx, and without a doubt her escapades would bring a certain amount of terror to his well-ordered life. He couldn’t wait.
Although he tried unsuccessfully to pay attention to the conversation around him, he was blessedly relieved when the meal came to an end.
“I will see you all in the morning. I have matters to attend to this evening. Good night.” Penrose pushed his chair back and left the room.
He hurried up the stairs, then strode down the corridor to Merry’s room, and tapped on the door.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded muffled, like she had a stuffed nose. Was she very sick?
“Merry, open the door.”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I’m not feeling well.”
Your Grace?
“That is precisely why I want you to open the door. Should I send for the doctor?”
“No!”
He rattled the latch. “Merry, can you please let me in? I won’t stay, I just want to assure myself of your condition.”
“I have no condition, Your Grace.”
He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. What was going on? Had their lovemaking last night upset her? He had an almost frantic need to see her, run his hands up and down her body, make sure she was all right.
“Merry, I’m asking nicely. Now please open the door.”
“I’m not properly dressed, Your Grace.”
He leaned his forehead on the door. Something was drastically wrong, and unless he could actually view her, he knew sleep would not come to him tonight. A sense of dread descended on him.
“All right. Shall I have a tray sent up?”
No answer.
“Merry?”
Her sigh came through the door. “No. Please leave me.”
“Miss Chambers, I am not leaving here until you open the door. If necessary, I will have a footman remove it for me.”
After a very long minute, the lock snapped and the door opened only far enough for him to see her puffy face in the shadows.
His gut clenched. “You look as if you could use a doctor.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Can I come in and speak with you for a minute?” She was obviously very upset, and the only thing he could think of was last night. He needed to hold her, assure her all was well, and he—God help him—had fallen in love with her.
“No. I need to sleep. As you can see, I am fine. I do not need a doctor. Good night.” She closed the door, turned the lock, and he soon heard the sound of a heavy piece of furniture being dragged in front of the door.
Stunned into silence, he headed to his room.
Gasping from the effort of shoving the heavy table in front of the door, Merry slid down the wall and hugged herself, the sound of Penrose’s receding footsteps a wound to her heart. Why had he come? A man about to offer a betrothal to one woman, should not seek to enter the room of another.
Unless he expected to continue what they’d done last night? She sat up, her jaw slack. Did he intend to marry Miss Jennings, and have Merry for a mistress? Of course. Thus his comment about having plans for her and seeing her settled elsewhere.
All the agony of the past hour segued into anger. How dare the man! He intended to set her up in another house where he could visit her whenever he chose. He was by far the most vile, arrogant, miserable excuse for a human being she’d ever met. He would marry one woman, then break his marriage vows with another. Well, he would certainly get a piece of her mind the next time she saw him.
She embraced the anger that kept her misery at bay. When the man made his indecent proposal to her, she would box his ears back and walk away with her head held high and her pride intact.
Unlike my innocence, which is long gone.
Chapter 10
The next morning, Penrose entered the breakfast room and scowled. “Where is Miss Chambers?”
His mother looked up from her place at the table, nibbling a piece of toast. “Here and gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was finishing up her breakfast when I arrived. I had several things for her to do in town this morning, so she set out early.”
He took in a large breath and pulled out a chair. “How long will she be gone?”
“My, you’re full of questions this morning.” She shot him a curious look.
Penrose shrugged. No point in making his mother suspicious. “No matter. I only wondered how she felt this morning, considering her illness last evening.”
His mother frowned. “Actually, she was rather quiet and pale, but she said her head felt better.”
A sense of relief filled him, but given Merry’s strange behavior when he went to her room last night, he wouldn’t feel completely relaxed until he saw her. Still confused by her actions and her obvious distraught state, all he wanted to do was gather her close and take away all her fear. For it must certainly had been fear that plagued her. As an innocent, she must surely have conflicting feelings about their lovemaking.
Hopefully she wouldn’t take it into her mind that he would make love to her and not propose marriage. Perhaps she was under the impression he would ask for her hand only because he’d taken her innocence. His gut tightened in frustration. He needed to talk to her. Now.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Miss Jennings swept into the room, her head held high as if she were the duchess. She nodded in his mother’s direction. “Good morning to you as well, Your Grace.”
Penrose stood, then held out a chair for her. She blushed and settled herself. “I’m so looking forward to tonight’s festivities.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Good Lord. His brother had been correct. It appeared Miss Jennings was smitten with him. More likely his money and title. He recalled the meeting with her yesterday afternoon to assess his wards’ progress in their studies. At the time, his thoughts were so consumed with Merry, he never paid attention to the governess’s actions.
Considering the disdain she held for his future duchess, things would definitely run smoother if he helped her secure another position. As soon as Merry accepted his offer, he would begin searching among his acquaintances for a suitable place for Miss Jennings.
But now his attention totally focused on his soon-to-be betrothed. The passion in her, just waiting to be unleashed, brought the blood racing to his groin. A small taste of her the other night had left him craving more. Their engagement would have to be very short, lest the future Duke of Penrose make an appearance too soon after their wedding vows. He chuckled.
Never had he envisioned a woman would so possess him that he would change his mind not only about marrying, but throwing the business arrangement part of it out the window.
“Your Grace?” Miss Jennings questioned him.
Pulling himsel
f back to his surroundings, he glanced at her. “Yes?”
“I said, do you imagine this will be the first of many balls at Penrose Hall?”
He stared at her, running her words through his brain, still trying to figure out what she asked him. And where the devil was Merry? Why wasn’t she the one sitting here next to him, smiling, and asking about future balls? He shook his head, years of training taking over. “I’m sure my mother will enjoy planning many more festivities in the future.”
Penrose placed his serviette alongside his plate and stood. “Now if you will excuse me, ladies, I will retire to my library to finish up some last minute items before our overnight guests arrive.”
Despite his pronouncement, when he entered the library, he headed to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He gazed out at the dreary day. Snow was once again in the air.
Merry checked the yellow and white flowered china clock on her dresser. Her lady’s maid would arrive shortly to help her into her gown and fix her hair. She placed her hands over her middle to stop the fluttering.
She’d managed to avoid Penrose all day. When she arrived home from the small market town, he’d been behind closed doors with his steward. Breathing a sigh of relief, she scurried to her room, where she remained hidden for the afternoon.
Now with her bath over, and coming to terms with her impending meeting with Penrose, all the jumbled thoughts that had raced through her mind all day began to form cohesive sentences. She would let him make his scandalous proposal. But to make certain he knew she understood what he planned to do, she’d selected her most indecent gown. If he believed her to be a woman of loose morals, then she would play the part.
The low cut white silk garment, with a wide band of red satin underneath her breasts brought attention to the creamy skin of her cleavage. The small cap sleeves emphasized her slender shoulders. As she gazed at the beautiful gown, she tapped her finger against her lips. Perhaps she would even dampen the material so it clung to her body. She shivered, reminding herself it was December.
She padded across the room to her chest and withdrew long red satin opera gloves. Perfect to finish off the outfit that declared her to be a woman of little virtue, as he apparently saw her. She would tempt the man all evening, teasing him with what he would never again have. Then when he offered to make her his mistress, she would slap his arrogant face, then storm away, her head held high.
Why didn’t that make her feel any better? True, she would have her moment, but she’d have to leave her girls and Kitty. And watch Miss Jennings preen.
But worse than anything, she’d lose the man she loved. The man she’d given herself to and thought he had at least some feelings for her besides lust. To us marriage is all a business arrangement, nothing more.
Oh God, how am I going to get through this night?
Penrose adjusted his cravat once more, standing next to his mother in the receiving line, constantly watching the staircase, waiting for Merry to descend. His heart sped up every time he caught a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye. When the woman turned out not to be Merry, his heart resumed its normal pattern.
Where was the woman?
For some inexplicable reason, he’d been unsuccessful in seeing her all day. Every time he asked for her, she was gone from the manor, locked in her room, busy with his wards, supervising the servants, or on some infernal mission for his mother. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Merry had purposely avoided him.
Unlike the other women, she elected to have a tray sent to her room for dinner. His stomach in knots, he ate very little, and drank too much. He grunted. Leave it to getting involved with a woman to drive a man to drink.
“You’re looking quite well, Your Grace.” His musings were interrupted by Lady St. James, as she eyed him, the familiar sultry look in her eyes. He’d had a short dalliance with her a few years ago, but quickly lost interest. Now her blatant tone and the possessive way she rested her hand on his chest rankled.
“My lady,” he bent over her hand and kissed it.
She cast a glance at him from under shuttered eyelids, a siren’s smile on her face before she moved along.
“Your Grace.” He turned to encounter Miss Jennings standing beside him. Heavens, what did the woman have on? Her gown would be more appropriate for a young debutante. Did she not possess anything more suited to her age? Ever the gentleman, he bent and kissed her hand. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”
She tittered, and lingered, fussing with her gown. The overpowering stench of her perfume caused his eyes to water. He glanced up and came eye to eye with Merry making her way into the ballroom.
Everyone else in the room ceased to exist. He attempted to swallow with the driest mouth he’d ever had. His eyes ate her up, her cool assessment, her chin angled in arrogance. Her tongue ran over her lush lips as her gaze swung back and forth between him and Miss Jennings. She was exquisite.
And barely dressed! God’s teeth! Where the devil was the rest of her gown?
His blood froze, unable to decide whether to race downward to his groin in lust, or upward to his head in anger. If she took a deep breath and exhaled, her delectable breasts would tumble from her bodice into her drink. All the muscles in his gut tightened, and he fought a powerful desire to shrug out of his jacket, then whip it around her shoulders, covering up what no one else except he should ever lay eyes on.
He snagged her hand as she passed by.
She stopped, and raised her chin. “Your Grace,” she curtsied gracefully.
“Stand up,” he snapped, causing his mother to glance at him. He could swear he’d gotten a glimpse of her nipples. “Do not curtsy for the rest of the evening.”
“As you say.” Merry rose, a sly smile on her face.
Her eyes twinkled with mirth, the cool disdain on her features a marked contrast. His grip tightened on her hand. The red satin glove on her warm fingers brought a flush to his face, sending his blood south. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to speak with you.”
“Indeed, Your Grace?” She tugged her hand from his. “If you will excuse me, I believe I’m being summoned.” She nodded slightly and entered the ballroom.
Good lord, I can’t let her parade around the room in that gown!
Twenty very long minutes passed before the last guest had been greeted, and Penrose was free to find his future duchess. After searching through the throng, he finally spotted her talking with Lord Grey, one of London’s worst rakes. He headed in her direction, his blood pumping in rhythm with his steps.
She should never have worn this gown. If one more gentleman talked to her breasts, she would scream. The gentleman introduced to her as Lord Grey had cornered her a while ago, and kept moving closer than what was acceptable. If only she could loosen one of her hairpins to stick his hand.
Once more she edged away from him and turned her head to see Penrose striding toward them, his face a mask of fury. She stiffened her spine, ready to do battle.
Her stomach released a horde of butterflies. Why did he have to look so good? A myriad of eyes watched him from above silk fans as he strode past. Her heart hammered at the sight of his broad shoulders as he eased his way through the crowd. Dark waves of silky hair fell over his forehead, drawing her attention to his eyebrows, furrowed above piercing brown eyes. She gulped. This would be much easier to do if she didn’t have to look at him.
He gripped Grey’s shoulder. “Grey. I believe Lady St. James is looking for you.”
About to object, Lord Grey backed away when he observed Penrose’s face. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Penrose took her gloved hand in his, kissed it, then staring into her eyes, swept her into the first dance. All the arrogance of His Grace, Duke of Penrose, emanated from his hard body.
Heat diffused her face at the memory of that arrogance cracking under the spell of their shared passion. Her flesh tingled where his palm gripped her back. As he brought them into a turn, he pulled her closer. His dancing was a
s graceful as everything else about him.
“It appears I will have to replace your lady’s maid.” His deep voice swept over her like a curtain of fire.
Unable to speak, Merry didn’t reply, but merely raised her eyebrows.
His jaw worked. “She seems to have forgotten the rest of your gown.”
Merry lifted her chin. All the cutting remarks she’d worked out in her mind throughout the day had fled at Penrose’s touch. Why did he affect her so? Where was the anger she’d felt last night after hearing his intention to become betrothed to Miss Jennings?
After making love to me.
Gathering the mantle of righteous indignation about her, she cast him a tight smile. “This gown is precisely the way it should be. And you have no right to criticize my choice of clothing.”
“And that will soon change.” He moved them toward the French doors, and then grasping her hand tightly, all but dragged her onto the terrace.
“Your Grace, it’s freezing out here.” She ran her palms up and down her arms.
“We need a quiet place to talk, and I don’t want to march you through that room with every man in there staring at your bosom.” He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her.
She pulled the jacket closer. “’Tis my bosom to stare at.” The warmth from his body transferred itself to her, along with his scent, crippling her heart.
“Merry.” He took both her hands in his. “I’ve been trying see you alone all day.”
“Under the circumstances, Your Grace, ‘tis very inappropriate.”
He slid his arms around her, then gathered her close. “But not for long. What I’m about to ask you will make it acceptable for me to be alone with you any time I wish.”
The blood rushed to her face. The nerve of the man. Not only was he going to expect her to be his mistress, he would also demand her time and attention any time he chose. Oh, how her palm itched to smack that smug face.
Merry Christmas, My Love Page 30
