Page 33

CHAPTER 32

P enelope could almost see how hard His Grace’s mind worked to answer her question. She had grown tired of being left confused and flustered by him, so she decided to ask him outright what on earth was going through that insufferable head of his.

But of course, the fact that she had asked him a direct question did not guarantee that he was going to give her a straightforward answer. Instead, his response came in the form of a question,

“Do you know where I went during my trip?”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. She was certainly annoyed at his blatant deflection, but she was also dying to know why he behaved so differently upon returning from it.

“You said that you had to go for business, correct?” she said with feigned casualness.

“Yes, well, I lied.” He smiled drily, absent-mindedly stroking the teacup in his large hands. “I spent a week at an inn near the Port of Kenstone where my... former fiancée now lives with her husband.”

All at once, Penelope’s mind flooded with a myriad of questions for him—it was almost dizzying. But she held her tongue, growing increasingly curious to see where the duke was going with this.

“While I was there, we spoke briefly twice.” He tilted his head upwards, almost as though his recollection was written on the ceiling. “Despite her father hating me until his dying breath for abruptly ending our engagement, she never really held it against me—probably because she never cared much for me either.”

“I see,” Penelope choked out, taking another sip in the hopes of relieving her throat.

“Her parents used the scandal I caused to garner sympathy, thus ruining my reputation while simultaneously bolstering their own,” he went on, “And with their pick of the suitors, my unlucky former fiancée once again found herself in an arranged engagement to another man she did not care for. This time, however, the wedding went through unhindered.”

Not blind to the parallels between his former fiancée and her own situation, Penelope found herself instinctively leaning her elbows on the table as she listened.

“May I ask what she said?” Penelope blinked. “How is she now?”

“She's happy,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “Three children, a husband she grew to love, and a lovely estate near the seaside that her friends envy her for. But I already knew all of that before going to see her.”

Penelope tilted her head sideways in perplexity. She opened her mouth, but closed it again.

“Go on,” His Grace urged her with a weak smile, “though I believe I have a good idea of what your question is already.”

Penelope gave in—both to his urging and to her own curiosity. “If you knew her situation, Your Grace, then why did you consider it necessary to visit her so suddenly?”

“Because I needed a reminder.” His Grace suddenly met her gaze for the first time since recounting his trip. “Without it, I fear that I would have done something... selfish.”

“Selfish?” Penelope echoed. “I don’t understand, Your Grace.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly leaned forward, a hand gently cupping her face. “ Please try,” his voice suddenly low and fervent as his eyes bore into her, “Or do I have to kiss you to finally get through to you?”

It was too much all at once and before she could even understand why, tears suddenly began to streak down Penelope’s face.

“Your Grace...” her voice croaked, “I’m sorry, I-” a sudden hiccup cut her off, “I really am trying, but I just don’t understand what yo-”

His lips swallowed the end of her sentence as he leaned over the table, crashing his lips into hers. Penelope noted that he tasted like the tea they were both drinking, mixed with hints of cigars and whiskey.

Much like the rest of him, his lips were strong and dominating. But even so, the kiss was unmistakably tender, spreading a warmth through her that caused her whole body to quiver under him.

When they finally pulled away from each other, both of their faces had turned pink.

Penelope’s lips still tingled where his lips had met them, breaths mixing as their foreheads remained pressed together.

“The day that Gloushire proposed to you was the worst day of my life.” His voice came out in a low whisper, “I almost-” he swallowed before continuing, “I had to leave before I knocked him out and begged you to marry me instead.”

Penelope’s heart thrashed against her rib cage. “Then why didn’t you?” she whispered back.

Her question jolted him backwards, separating their foreheads in the process.

“N-No, it was- I couldn’t.”

His chair let out a grating noise as he hurriedly leapt to his feet and began pacing. “A part of me hoped that I- that you might possibly- But no. I knew that you deserved better than me.”

Penelope opened her mouth to object, but nothing came out. Instead, the duke continued, “My trip to Kenstone confirmed that letting you go, staying away from you, would be in your best-”

“No!” Penelope yelped, now also on her feet. “It might have worked out for your former fiancée, but you should have told me about your feelings because...” her eyes began to well up again, “I would have-”

“Don’t say it.” He held up a hand in warning. “ Please , this is already agonizing as it is.”

Penelope took a stubborn step towards him. “But what I’m saying is that it doesn’t need to be! I’ve been having doubts on whether I should marry Gloushire anyway, so if you-”

“It’s out of the question.” His Grace cut her off again, “Gloushire will be a better husband to you. He’s reliable, well-reputed, fiercely loyal, and-”

“But he’s not you.” Penelope’s lip quivered just as the dam behind her eyes broke, blurring her vision such that the duke was nothing more than a hazy cloud standing in front of her.

The cloud moved and the next thing she knew, firm arms were wrapping themselves around her, drawing her toward him so that she could lay her head on his broad chest.

“If we got married...” he began, his tone heartbreakingly gentle, “...my enemies would become yours. Since calling off my engagement all those years ago, I have lived my life a little too recklessly and although I am not guilty of everything our peers may accuse me of, I have definitely upset far too many people. I could never put you-”

“I don’t care,” Penelope huffed, lifting her head off his chest so she could look up at him. “I don't care what they'll say or do. I shall stand by you to the end.”

A hand found its way to her cheek, gently stroking the paths her tears had burned into it. “How can you say that so confidently about a disgraceful rake?”

Penelope raised her own hand to caress the barely visible stubble on his jaw. “Given the way you described love as all-consuming, the sincerity of your belief in love itself, the way you stand up for the vulnerable... I have the feeling that you aren’t really as rakish as you pretend to be, Your Grace.”

The defeated smile on his lips told her she was correct before his words did.

“Yes...” he admitted, leaning away from her touch as he explained, “Well, to be clear, the truth is that I have certainly been...” he cleared his throat, “...around.”

Penelope blushed at his frank confession, suddenly quite aware of the hand that rested on the small of her back.

“However,” he continued, “despite what the rest of the ton thinks, such trysts were only with women who already had nothing to lose. I would never ruin a woman who was... er, well, you know.”

Penelope nodded in understanding. “See? Then it turns out you’re not that much worse than Lord Gloushire after all, Your Grace. So why shouldn’t we-”

“No.” His chest heaved as he answered. “My reputation—despite being exaggerated in its notoriety—is enough to all but exile me from proper society. After a decade of half-truths, accusations, misunderstandings, and the like, there are people out there who will always seek to make me miserable—along with anyone who dares to get close. I could never—will never—do that to you.”

Anticipating her objection, he tilted her chin upwards so he could silence Penelope with another—much shorter—kiss.

When their lips parted a second time, he urged her, “Marry Gloushire, he’s not the type to attract unwanted attention and I shall find peace knowing that you’ll be out of harm’s way by his side rather than mine.”

“But what about my peace?” Penelope objected. “Do you expect me to live the rest of my life missing you every day?”

“The rest of your life? No, Lady Pen.” A chaste kiss landed on her temple, “For up to a year—perhaps even two if I should be so lucky.”

His hands lightly brushed against her sides, giving her goosebumps. “But the more time you spend with Gloushire, the more preoccupied you become in your duties as a mother and as a viscountess, the farther your mind shall drift away from me.”

The duke’s right hand tucked a lock behind her ear. “Until finally, you shall forget all about the poor soul who almost held you back from the life you deserved.”

“No,” was all that Penelope could bring herself to utter, inhaling a deep breath before she could add, “I could never forget you.”

“That’s just how it feels right now, but I assure you that-”

Penelope pried herself free of his arms, her eyes burning in defiance. “Who are you to tell me so? Do you think that just because you are more experienced in matters of the heart that you know mine so intimately? How can you predict how I shall feel in a few years when you apparently couldn’t tell how hopelessly I have been pining for you all this time?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer.

“Your predictions are based on your experience with your past trysts, but do you think it fair to compare the way I have loved you to those affairs?”

“No, of course not, that’s not at all what I-”

“And then when I poured my heart out to you, offered you my unwavering love and support for the rest of our lives...” Penelope’s hands began to tremble, “you had the gall to presume they are fickle enough to fade away quickly once I’m married to Lord Gloushire.”

“Lady Pen, please-”

“Admit it, Your Grace,” she spat out, her tone having turned completely bitter now, “you aren’t doing this for my best interests, but for your own.”

“For my own interest?” scoffed the duke. “Did you not hear anything I said about the lengths I had to go through just to-”

“You’re better for me than Gloushire in every respect.” Penelope interrupted, too angry now to care about courtesy, “We get along better, you know and understand me better, you are better,” Her breathing hastened, “but you're still afraid of love—afraid of the risk of pain that comes with it—so you’d rather push me into the arms of another man rather than take a chance.”

Penelope reached for the lamp that she had used to light her way here from her room, relighting it once more using one of the nearby candles.

“You would rather listen to your fear than to me.” Penelope’s voice cracked despite her best efforts, “Then fine! I shall marry him instead and leave you in peace.” A sob escaped her lips. “You selfish bastard!”

As she stormed out of the kitchen, Penelope could hardly see her own feet given the darkness of the house combined with the tears in her eyes. But she didn’t care, all she wanted to do was put as much distance between her and that wretched duke.