Page 11 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

Penelope scoffed, “Such a bold assumption, perhaps I merely took pity on yo-"

Completely ignoring this remark, he cut her off. “I’d say you’re more comparable to a deer? No! A fox in sheep’s clothing.”

“A fox?” she exclaimed incredulously.

“Yes, not nearly as powerful or ferocious as a wolf, but still quite perceptive and shrewd in their own right.” He chuckled. “See? You even have the reddish-brown hair to go with it.”

“I’m afraid that you’re taking my use of the old adage a tad too literally, Your Grace.” She drily added, “I was simply reminding your smug, self-assured self that you will not always succeed in misleading people. There are those of us who see right through you.”

“You think you see through me,” he retorted, giving her a prime example of the very self-assured smugness she had mentioned.

But before she could express her irritation, he cleared his throat and added, “At any rate, regardless of what you really think about me,” he met her gaze, “the fact remains that I am now indebted to you.”

Penelope blinked at this. After all, who would expect a self-centered rake to actually appreciate those around him?

“Ordinarily, I would say there was no need to repay me. But given your talents in particular areas,” she thought out loud, “I can think of the perfect way you can pay me back.” She smiled.

“How’s that?”

“Later,” she drily answered. “I’d prefer we discuss it away from the sea of prying eyes and ears we are currently swimming in.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Given your reticence, I can’t help but wonder if it turns out even you couldn’t resist my charms and begui- Ouch!” he yelped, shaking his foot out.

“Oops.” Penelope smiled innocently. “Watch your step, Your Grace.”

CHAPTER4

Penelope finished stifling a yawn as she returned the hairbrush to its place on the dresser. The clock in the corner told her it was now four o’clock meaning that they had arrived home from the ball no more than forty minutes ago.

The latest their family had ever gotten home from a ball was five o’clock or so, with the sun just about to rise. But that was during happier times when Father and his carefree spirit were still around.

She slowly climbed into bed.

Even I’m beginning to wonder whether my injury was real because why am I so tire-

Two quick knocks on her door interrupted her thoughts.

“Mother?” she called out, concerned.

No response came to affirm her guess, but who else could it possibly be at this time of the night?

Leaping out of bed, called out, “I presumed you were asleep when we arrived, so I didn’t come to say good night. Is something wro-”

But upon pulling the door open, she found—not her mother, but—the Duke of Blackmoore.

“Your Grace!” she gasped, lowering her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What else? I’m here to discuss the favor I owe you,” came the nonchalant reply.

“At this hour?” she hissed.

“Well, there was nowhere private for us to discuss the matter during the ball, so I figured discussing it at home would be the best option.” He shrugged. “Now do you want my help or not?”

“All right, all right!” Penelope grabbed his arm. “Just get in before someone sees you.”

She checked the hallway one last time before closing the door.

“This couldn’t have waited until the morning?” She turned around to face him.