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CHAPTER 15

“M ore brandy, Your Grace?”

“Yes, thank you, Lord Orstenbridge.” Duncan smiled, holding out his glass.

“Quite the night, no?” the older gentleman asked. “My legs feel as though they shall give out after a dinner like that .”

Duncan let out a chuckle. “Then we shall have to roll—as opposed to walk—ourselves home tonight.”

With a heartfelt laugh, his listener slapped a hand on his shoulder and informed him, “I hope you don’t mind me stealing that to use in the future.”

“Please go ahead,” Duncan assured him, taking a swig out of his glass. “In truth, I stole it from my father.”

Another gentleman approached them to express similar sentiments about how filling the dinner was.

After all, as far as Duncan was concerned, dinner party conversations often rotated between three main topics: the party itself, the current biggest scandal in the ton , and whoever the ton’s favorite darling presently was.

The door to the drawing room remained somewhat ajar, so he discreetly angled his head in the hopes he could catch a glimpse of how Mother and Lady Penelope were doing along with the rest of the women, but to no avail.

Mother will make sure that they’re both all right, he reminded himself.

As he scanned the room for someone—or something—to distract him from his worry, he spotted Lords Direpeak and Newshore on the other side of the room.

Before tonight, Duncan had only spoken to either of them a few times at the races after Fairhaven had introduced them.

But even after those few exchanges, it was immediately clear that they were both capable gentlemen who came from well-established families with plenty of assets.

As a result, Duncan compiled everything he knew about them thus far, gleaned as much additional information about them as he could from Fairhaven, and included them on the list he created for Lady Pen.

But he hadn’t had the chance to properly speak with them yet tonight, what with the way they had completely devoted their attention to Lady Penelope. So, Duncan made his way through the crowd towards them.

To his annoyance, however, the pair didn’t appear to notice that he was trying to reach them, and they slipped out through one of the banquet hall’s other doors, cigars and glasses in hand.

By the time Duncan joined them in the hallway, the pair had their backs turned to him as they admired a magnificent handwoven tapestry at the end of the hallway.

It depicted the War of the Roses that had clearly been passed down through the generations of Lord Inglesfield’s family.

Just as Duncan opened his mouth to call out to them, he heard Direpeak say something that was mostly inaudible from this far, but Duncan could have sworn it included Lady Penelope’s name.

Wanting to ensure he hadn’t misheard, Duncan decided to delay making his presence known. He sidled along the wall until he was covered by a set of large wooden cupboards containing various other tokens and trophies passed down through Inglesfield’s family.

“Are you certain you’re fine with me being the comforter this time?” asked Newshore, “Because I thought you did quite well with...” he lowered his voice, “our last endeavor.”

“ Too well, I’m afraid,” Direpeak lamented, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “She’s still writing to me, you know.”

The marquess inhaled sharply through his teeth, “Dear, oh dear. Didn't I warn you that you were being too nice?”

The earl only offered a grunt in response.

Duncan clenched his jaw. But as someone who was used to people passing judgment on him far too quickly, he listened to their discussion further to ensure that he hadn’t misunderstood.

“So, then it’s settled.” Newshore stifled a yawn. “Once you’re done with Lady Penelope, I shall comfort her-”

“Excuse me, Newshore.” Duncan tapped his shoulder, causing the marquess to turn around.

“That’s better, thank you.” Duncan smiled, placing his glass of brandy down on the rug to free up his right hand, which he then swiftly landed on the wretch’s face.

“What the hell, Blackmoore?!” Direpeak thundered, cigar still hanging from his mouth as he grabbed the front of Duncan’s shirt.

“How dare you become enraged after spewing your degeneracy!” Duncan snapped, raising his knee to the earl’s stomach, causing him to double over and sink to his knees on the floor.

“Don’t act like you’re any better than us, Blackmoore!” Newshore barked. “If anything, you’re more depraved than we are!"

Duncan let out a scoff as he closed the distance between himself and the marquess. “You know, treacherous worms like yourselves deserve worse...”

He backed the other man up against the wall. “But your blood isn’t worth the price it would take to clean it off this tapestry.”

Newshore let out a yelp as Duncan put out his cigar on the front of the brute’s shirt, burning a hole through the white linen.

“Enough, Blackmoore!” Direpeak boomed, pulling Duncan off of the marquess. “If this is about competition, there’s plenty of women to go around for-”

The earl didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as Duncan had already grabbed his shoulders, thrown him against the wall, and pinned his throat with his left arm.

“Every time you open your mouth, Direpeak,” Duncan growled, “you incentivize the rest of us to shut it for you... permanently.”

“The-en what do-o yo-ou want, you ba-stard?” Direpeak choked out, clawing at Duncan’s arm in vain.

“For you two to leave those poor women alone, especially Lady Penelope,” Duncan answered, leaning on his arm harder. “Is that clear?”

The red-faced earl frantically nodded his head. Duncan waited just a moment more before finally releasing him.

“Enjoy the rest of the Season, lads,” Duncan remarked, before retrieving his glass of brandy off of the rug and returning to the banquet hall.

He spotted Inglesfield in the far corner conversing with a few others, so pulling him away would draw too much attention. Instead, Duncan asked a servant if he could borrow a pencil and a sheet of paper.

Once he had finished his note, he had the servant pass it along to Inglesfield, who upon reading it narrowed his eyes at Duncan from across the room.

Sorry! Duncan mouthed at his former classmate and infrequent fishing partner, And thanks for everything!

* * *

“...and so, I wish you both a good night, my darlings,” the dowager duchess stifled a yawn as Mr. Rowley helped her amble up the stairs.

“Good night, Your Grace!” Penelope called after her.

“Good night, Mother,” His Grace chimed in.

Under ordinary circumstances, Penelope would have marched right behind Her Grace, eager to get some sleep after such a long, exhausting night.

But with the excitement still running through her, Penelope wanted to stay back and pick His Grace’s brain on the evening’s proceedings.

He met her eyes while in the middle of taking his coat off and flashed her a smile, “What?”

Penelope craned her neck to check that Her Grace and Mr. Rowley were out of earshot. “What do you mean ‘what’?” She let out an excited squeal, “Didn’t our dinner go splendidly?”

His Grace cleared his throat, folding his coat over his arm. “Did you get the chance to speak to either Direpeak or Newshore after dinner?”

“Well... no.” Her shoulders dropped. “They seemed quite busy with other matters for the rest of the night, and I didn’t want to disturb them but-”

“Don’t waste your time with those lowlifes,” the duke simply remarked, turning on his heel as he walked towards his office. “Don’t go near them, don’t greet them, don’t accept any correspondence from them.”

“What’s got you in such a sour mood?” Penelope frowned, following him down the hallway. “You saw for yourself, that Lords Newshore and Direpeak were perfect gentlemen all-”

“I know what you’re thinking.” His Grace spun around on his heels. “You’re thinking that perhaps you could settle for one of them.” His expression darkened. “But neither of them is fit to stand next to you, let alone become your mate.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Need I remind you, Your Grace, my father was an earl , not a duke like you. You keep telling me to raise my standards, but this is about as high as I am allowed to raise them given my family’s station.”

“No, it isn’t,” he firmly returned, lowering his voice. “Be careful not to rush into anyone’s arms, Lady Pen. You must choose wisely, both for your own sake and your mother’s.”

Penelope began to protest his pickiness, but her eyes caught something on His Grace’s left sleeve. “Is that blood?” she gasped.

The duke inspected his arm in a much calmer manner than expected and mumbled something, she couldn’t quite hear it clearly, but it sounded like he said “...it must have dripped from his nose.”

Bewildered, worried, and annoyed, all Penelope could do was heave a giant sigh and ask, “Your Grace, what's going on?”

“Absolutely nothing at the moment,” he answered, turning away from her once again. “I made sure of it. Just get some rest and forget about the pair of those wretched-”

Penelope chased after him and grabbed his arm. “Where else are you hurt?”

His blue eyes looked back at her in confusion. “I’m not hurt.” he insisted, rolling his sleeve up to prove it, “See?”

She looked at his arm closely and suddenly remembered how shocked she had been by its muscularity the first time she had locked arms with him.

It’s no wonder he doesn’t have a scratch on him, she mused, looking up at the duke. Punching him must be like trying to punch an ash tree’s trunk.

“Satisfied?” he asked, dropping his arm.

“I suppose so,” she sighed, “but your demeanor isn’t typically what one would expect from the unscathed victor in a fight. You still seem... angry somehow.”

He let out a bitter laugh and then confirmed her hunch was right as he shook his head, “Am I really so transparent?”

“Not at all,” Penelope assured him, “but friends can always tell.” She nudged his side attempting to lighten his mood. “And friends stick together. So, tell me who it is that's upset you and I’ll go give them a piece of my mind as well.”

His Grace had been rubbing his neck as she said this, but paused as he tilted his head, “Are you saying that you... would side with me? But you don’t even know what the conflict’s about.”

“But I know that whatever it was, it was disturbing enough that you saw it fit to draw blood.” She nodded at his sleeve. “I still disagree with you on many things, Your Grace. But I also know you’re not the type who resorts to violence at the first chance he gets.”

“How can you be so sure?” What about that scrap you witnessed between Fairhaven and I in the morning room?” he reminded her with a grin.

“Please...” Penelope rolled her eyes, “you clearly weren’t trying to hurt him, otherwise you would have knocked a tooth out before he had the chance to drag you to the floor with him.”

He acquiesced with a nod.

A short pause followed before he began again, “Do you know what I just realized?”

“What is it, Your Grace?”

“If someone ever asked you to put together a list of practice suitors for her and—for whatever reason—you chose to include me on it along with everything you knew about me...”

“Yes?” Penelope prompted him, unsure where he was going with this.

“I’d guarantee that you would be the only person in this world—besides Harlington and Fairhaven—who’d get it right.” He smiled to himself, before looking directly into her eyes, “And for that, I thank you, Lady Pen.”

Penelope couldn’t explain the warm sensation she felt knowing that he trusted her so. She wished that she could reciprocate by expressing equally meaningful sentiments.

But she found herself slightly embarrassed by his sudden sincerity and settled on teasing him instead, “Goodness, just how much brandy have you had, Your Grace?”

“Not nearly enough.” He grinned, “If you want, I have some in my- Oh. That’s right.”

Penelope placed a hand on her chest as she feigned shock and horror, “Your Grace! Were you trying to invite a lady to drink with you in your study?”

“That’s not how I meant it!” he shot back defensively. “The only other people I usually spend this much time with are Harlington and Fairhaven, so obviously offering them a tipple wouldn’t-”

“I know what you meant, Your Grace.” Penelope chuckled, “And...” she fidgeted with her hands, “I trust your counsel, so I shall do as you have advised and stay away from Lords Direpeak and Newshore.”

“Thank you.” The duke exhaled. “Believe me, you won’t regret it at all. Say, I’ll be out all of tomorrow, but what if we had our next lesson the day after? How does that sound”

Penelope chewed her lip as she contemplated his offer. After all, the previous two lessons hadn’t exactly gone as either of them had expected.

But I trusted him enough to agree to forget about Direpeak and Newshore... she reminded herself, So I should be able to trust him enough for another lesson.

“That sounds lovely, Your Grace,” she said and smiled.