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CHAPTER 13

“W e’re off now, darling!” his mother excitedly announced, sticking her head through the study room’s door. “Now it’s my turn to ask you if you’d like us to get you anything before we return.”

Duncan looked up from the documents he was reading and shook his head. “No, thank you, Mother. You three just enjoy your day.”

“The two of us certainly will,” his mother corrected him. “Lady Penelope pulled me aside earlier and said that perhaps she would be able to speak and behave more freely if she wasn’t around. Naturally, I tried to assure her that that couldn’t possibly be true but-”

“Are things between them still… awkward?” Duncan furrowed his eyebrows worriedly.

Mother ducked her head out to check that no one was in the hallway before answering, “As you know, Lady Punton is hardly speaking at all these days, including to her own daughter. Even so, I’ve just about managed to persuade her to help me pick out some sewing supplies and material.”

“I wish you well on your endeavor, Mother.” Duncan smiled.

“Thank you, darling,” she replied, “and I trust you’ll stay out of trouble until we return?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, at Lord Steepwharf’s garden party the other day, I spied you glancing over at Lady Penelope quite often. Were you perhaps… uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting?”

“Mother…” Duncan rolled his eyes, “if I didn’t know you, I’d be inclined to say that you’ve begun reading gossip pages now.”

“It was just an observation, darling.” She shrugged. “Either way, there’s no harm in a mother reminding her son to be careful.”

Duncan waited for their coach to depart before he leaped up from his chair and began making his way upstairs.

“Ah, Rowley!” he exclaimed, passing the butler in the hall. “Could you please have a tray of tea and biscuits prepared and have it brought to the drawing room? Ah! Some fruits as well would be nice and whatever else we have on hand.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

Upon reaching Lady Penelope’s room, Duncan knocked three times. “If all you’re going to do is sob and sulk, I have a suggestion for a much more productive way to spend your free time.”

A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a red-nosed Lady Penelope.

“How did you know?” she sniffled.

“With your heart of gold and consuming fear of hurting those around you?” He shrugged, “It just seemed like the sort of thing you would do.”

She let out a dry laugh at this remark. “I see. So, what did you want to suggest instead?”

“How about another lesson?” He offered her his arm. “I mean, the exercise at the garden party went splendidly, but there’s still much more to learn—and four other gentlemen to get through.”

Lady Penelope contemplated his suggestion.

Now that he had spent so much time with her, he recognized the way her rosy lips pursed whenever she was deep in thought, the way she tilted her head to the left—and ever so slightly backward—when she was struggling to decide.

“Come on, Lady Pen.” He winked. “Give me an excuse to step away from my work for a little bit.”

Her eyes softened, letting Duncan know that he had successfully convinced her.

“All right then, Your Grace,” she chuckled. “Where shall we hold our next lesson?”

In a few short minutes, they found themselves in the drawing room, where the servants had set up the refreshments as Duncan had requested.

Lady Penelope offered to pour both of them some tea.

He thanked her as he accepted his cup. “Have you been studying?” he grinned, leaning back into his chair.

“Of course,” she scoffed, lightly blowing the steam off her cup. “You’re the sort of person who likes to spring surprises on the unsuspecting. So, I wanted to be as ready as possible at all times.”

“A wise choice,” Duncan commended her, “and before we begin, do you have anything to add about our previous lesson? I don’t like to assume, but based on my observations at the garden party, you seemed to find my pointers quite useful.”

“It isn’t gentlemanly to gloat.” She clicked her tongue at him, “But yes, it’s a good thing we rehearsed beforehand as it helped me steady my nerves. Why? Did I do something wrong at the party?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, reaching for a biscuit. “Though now that I think about it, I was wondering what on earth you, Tresney, and Larkspur were laughing so hard about.”

“Oh yes!” she gasped in realization, already starting to giggle. “But I don’t know how to tell it exactly like Lord Tresney did.”

“Ah… was it a joke?” Duncan swallowed before adding, “Was it the one about the musician in Bechdalla?”

Lady Penelope laughed harder at this. “Yes! So, you’ve heard it already?”

“Many times,” Duncan replied, dusting his hands. “That’s one of Tresney’s signature gambits when attempting to woo someone. So at least we know he was genuinely interested in you,” he nodded, “Well done!”

His companion furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment. “Oh. Is Lord Tresney also a bit of a rake?”

“He tries to be.” Duncan grinned. “I think he just hates me because I’m apparently far more effective.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that he hates you.” She fervently shook her head. “Why, I don’t think he even mentioned your name.”

“He probably didn’t want to remind you that a far superior gentleman than him was also present,” Duncan joked, “But enough with these trivial matters, let’s begin our lesson,” he declared.

Lady Penelope set aside her cup of tea and prepared to stand, but he stopped her.

“No, no, we can stay where we are.” He cleared his throat. “Last time was all about the physical, this lesson is all about the spoken word.”

She let out a deep exhale. “Perfect... And my instructor so happens to love the sound of his own voice.”

“Just because I’m charming and confident, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m vain,” he retorted. “Besides, as the student, you shall be doing most of the talking.”

“Very well, Your Grace. Where would you like me to start?”

Duncan tapped his chin in consideration. “Since it worked so well for Tresney, why don’t we start with using humor as a means to draw the other person in?”

“All right,” she concurred, seeming undeterred by his challenge. “Oh, but who are you supposed to be?”

“Hmm?”

“Which of the four remaining gentlemen on my list are you pretending to be?” she asked, “So that I can better tailor my approach.”

“I see. Well, have you studied the Earl of Direpeak?”

She nodded.

“Then I shall be him.” Duncan gestured, signaling for her to begin.

“So, Lord Direpeak…” she opened, leaning forward in her chair. “I hear you’ve won quite a few fencing tournaments.”

Duncan pushed out his chest as he answered, “Why yes, Lady Penelope, I often advise-”

“Don’t do a pretend voice!” she laughed slapping his arm.

“Why not?” he grinned, “Oh! Because when you finally met him, you realized just how accurate my impression of Steepwharf was, didn’t you?”

“That’s beside the point!” She shook her head. “I thought you wanted me to take my lessons seriously?”

“I am being serious!” Duncan exclaimed, seizing this opportunity to reach for another biscuit. “This is exactly how Lord Direpeak sounds, I’m telling you.”

“Your Grace…” she groaned, “Please!”

Yielding to her wishes, Duncan repeated himself but in his normal voice. “Why yes, Lady Penelope, I often advise parents of unruly boys to send them for fencing lessons. I truly believe it is good for the soul.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “If you ever need a new sparring partner…”

Now it was Duncan’s turn to interrupt.

“That’s enough!” he guffawed, throwing his head back in laughter. “While I appreciate the direction you were attempting to take, I don’t know if it would have produced the results you were looking for.”

She laughed along. “In isolation, I’ll admit that it is a rather jarring jump to make, but that’s only because we dove right into it instead of letting the conversation flow naturally,” she huffed.

“It was a valiant attempt, Lady Pen,” he concurred. “And while you are an excellent conversationalist, flirting is a different sport entirely. For flirting, focus less on making the conversation pleasant, and more on making it intoxicating.”

His companion blinked at him. “But how exactly does one do that?” she asked, refilling her teacup.

“It’s all about the details,” he explained. “Take your mention of fencing for example. You noted that it requires a partner, that’s a good start. But did you note what else is involved in the sport that you could have drawn attention to instead? Like the exertion, the sweat, the intensit-”

“Your Grace!” she exclaimed in horror, “I couldn’t possibly employ such obscene language!”

“Certainly not while my mother is chaperoning you.” He shuddered, “But I’m sure Lord Direpeak or another gentleman wouldn’t object at all if similar sentiments were conveyed through a letter or-”

“Absolutely not!” She shuddered, jumping up from her seat.

“I’m not saying you have to use those exact terms.” He waved both hands gently in an attempt to calm her down. “That was just one possibility. There are far less extreme ones for you to take, of course.”

“For example?” she asked, both hands on her hips.

“For example…” He cleared his throat, looking around the room for anything he could use.

His eyes landed on the pianoforte. “Do you play, Lady Penelope?” He gestured towards the instrument.

“Yes, I do, Lord Direpeak.”

Duncan stood up. “Then may I see your hands?”

She obliged, allowing him to take both of her hands in his. “Are you inspecting my fingers to see whether I’m lying?”

“Admittedly, I don’t know how to do that at all.” He smiled, meeting her gaze. “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hands.”

Lady Penelope laughed once again—it was a sound he found himself appreciating every time he heard it. And was he imagining it or were her cheeks slightly pinker as well?

“See? A far less extreme example.” He straightened up, gently releasing her hands. “But the principles remained the same, through humor and a focus on the right details involving her interest—that is, her hands and the pianoforte—I engaged my listener and endeared her to me. Now you try.”

His student sucked in a deep breath to steel herself—which Duncan already found endearing in itself.

After a brief pause, she began her attempt.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Lord Direpeak, what literature have you been reading lately?”

Duncan paused to consider how the earl himself would have probably answered, “I’ve been working my way through a number of botanical treatises given my interest in the subject, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, Lady Penelope.”

“Ah, so you enjoy gardening, then?” she beamed. “So that means you’re a man who knows how to cherish and nurture, then?” she teased.

He grinned, wanting to commend her for her simple—but effective—use of humor and detail to flirt.

But since she was already on a roll, he decided to keep their rehearsal going. “You flatter me, Lady Penelope. But truth be told, that is somewhat of an idealized view of gardening.”

“How so?”

Duncan cleared his throat. “Well, it’s difficult work, you see. There’s much more heavy lifting and frustration involved than most people realize.”

“Well, for someone so… robust, I’m sure everything you carry must feel as light as a feather,” came her breathy reply as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

She’s including points from our lesson about body language. he silently noted. Well, two can play at that game .

“Now be honest,” he tutted, taking a step toward her, “are these repeated attempts to flatter me all because you’re hoping to get me to do some gardening for you?”

“Perhaps,” she said with a coy smile. “Or perhaps I’m simply looking for an excuse to invite you to our estate.”

With every syllable that left her lips, Duncan found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

The next thing he knew, his hand was sliding around her delicate waist. “All this was in search of an excuse?” he asked, his voice sounding hoarser than he meant it to, “I can offer you several more if you like.”

Her cheeks turned rosy-pink, causing his heart to race. Standing so close, he couldn’t help but notice just how much smaller her figure was compared to his, it was almost unbearable.

His grip on her tightened, inevitably drawing them closer together. With his free hand, he lifted her chin but was immediately caught off-guard by her large, innocent hazel eyes.

Worried his heart would give out if he stared into them any longer, Duncan attempted to divert his attention but then his gaze landed on her lips, causing him to wonder. Suddenly, Mother’s voice echoed in his head, warning him to be careful.

He dropped his hands and took two large steps backward. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, shaking his head to clear it, “I- I sometimes get carried away and-”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Your Grace.” She frantically waved a hand, “It was just a demonstration, so-”

“Exactly!” He awkwardly rejoined, “And I presume you now understand how to-”

“Yes, most certainly.” She cleared her throat, “Well, that was a most productive lesson, and I thank you for it, Your Grace. But I’m suddenly feeling rather tired, so if you don’t mind, I might just-” She pointed towards the door.

“Please go ahead,” he nodded.

Normally, he would have offered to get the door for her, but he had barely even gotten the words out before she had bolted through it and slammed it behind her.

Deflated, he let out a deep exhale and threw himself onto the sofa.

This time, Steepwharf’s voice echoed in his head: “Here we go again! Why do you have to do this, Blackmoore?”

As he stared up at the ceiling, Duncan racked his brain for an answer. But upon finding none, he stretched an arm out for another biscuit and bit into it.

Maybe Steepwharf was right, he mused. Maybe I am as bad as they say .