Page 8 of The Guardian Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #21)

Bloody hell!

Henry was still reeling from his conversation…no, argument with Lady Penelope earlier in the day.

She had taken him to task.

Nobody had done that to him since he was a child, and that had been his father.

He had also overreacted to the name Petrucio Valentine. Of course, she knew the connection to himself, but his cousins likely had no idea and he could just imagine their shock if they learned. Not only had they been shielded from their legitimate cousins, Henry was certain their father had never mentioned the Valentines.

All day he warred with whether he should send Lady Penelope a missive and tell her that her assistance was no longer needed but then remembered what she had said—that his cousins might end up being spinsters permanently, and forever his responsibility.

Not that he would not support them, of course, but it would be better if they secured husbands to take care of them.

So far, they had not been too much of an interruption to his life. However, he would need to take a wife of his own and there was the duty of an heir and a spare, and with that the mansion and estate could become quite crowded with so many living in one place. Then there was the possibility that a wife may not want his wards living with him. Then what would he do? Set them up in a house to live their spinster lives.

He groaned and lifted a glass of wine from the tray a footman was carrying.

That was not a future he wanted for either himself or his cousins and therefore he had no choice but to allow Lady Penelope to help prepare them for their reemergence in Society.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Lady Penelope stepped into the ballroom and glanced around. Tonight, she wore a gown similar to the color of basil, which no doubt only enhanced the depth of her green eyes. Dark ringlets fell from a delicate chignon woven with pearls. He waited for her to turn so that Henry could fully appreciate her appearance from the lace hem to the full bodice and her long neck and finally her lips. However, when their eyes did meet, hers grew hard right before she tilted her nose in the air and turned around.

Henry nearly sputtered his wine. She had just given him the cut direct!

Well, that certainly would not do.

He downed the contents in the glass and strode across the ballroom until he stopped before Lady Penelope.

She drew back and gazed at him with startled eyes.

He held out his hand. “Your dance card.”

With that request, those who were close enough to hear began to twitter behind fans. He could not make out what they were saying but could surmise. Not since Lady Johanna and his assistance to his friend Peter Storm had he asked anyone to dance this Season.

Lady Penelope continued to stare into his eyes as he waited.

Would she rebuke him in front of some of the most prolific gossips of the ton ?

He assumed that she would not want her name on the lips of everyone. At least, he counted on that fact, but perhaps he was wrong.

Slowly she lifted her hand and placed the card in his, never breaking eye contact. Henry grasped it and only looked to see what was available.

“The supper dance is mine.” He handed her the card, gave a nod, turned and marched away.

It wasn’t until he was lifting another glass of wine from a tray that he realized that this may be the first time that Lady Penelope had nothing to say to him.

* * *

Penelope’s heart pounded as Eldridge strode away. He had not penciled in his name but informed her which dance would be his.

She did not appreciate being ordered, yet…Did she dare defy him?

She wanted to simply on principle.

Except, she also wanted to waltz with His Grace again, when she shouldn’t. The last time had left her unsettled. Not in an unpleasant way but she also wondered if it had been an anomaly. Part of her wanted to know for certain but another part was afraid to find out.

If it happened again, what did that mean?

Besides the worry about the waltz, it was also the supper dance and she would be required to dine with him. After she’d yelled at him earlier, he likely had a few words for her as well. He had not requested the dance as someone who was desirous of her company but demanded it.

Perhaps she should not have turned her back on him earlier, except she had still been upset and when she saw him…well…Penelope blew out a heavy sigh.

No doubt he had interpreted her actions as a cut direct, which really had not been her intention, and being he was a duke, had taken issue.

Why were men so easily offended?

She nearly snorted. “And gentlemen claim that women are the most sensitive of the sexes,” she whispered to herself.

As much as she did not want to have another argument with Eldridge, it was best to share the dance, then supper, and perhaps they could settle into…what…become friends?

That was not likely to happen. He did not approve of her, but he needed her, or his cousins did, and she would just need to remind him of that fact.

All of that was well and good but as the evening continued, and Penelope visited with friends and acquaintances, her nerves mounted until Eldridge approached to claim her for the waltz.

He said nothing as he led her to the floor, bowed then took her hand, placed his on her back and stepped.

His blue eyes darkened with each step and there was a firm set to his lips as if he were doing his best to hold in his animosity for her.

Why had he asked her to dance to begin with if there was going to be no chastisement or even conversation?

They stepped and turned and much to her irritation, her pulse raced as her body heated. His hand burned through the silk of her gown and she wondered what it would be like for his hand to touch her skin.

Such a thought caused her face to burn and Penelope dearly hoped that anyone who may witness her blush would assume that it was caused by the exertion of the dance and the heat in the room.

By the time the waltz had come to an end, she was nearly breathless, parched and in need of cool air.

Eldridge took her hand and placed it on his arm, then led her to a refreshment table, retrieved two glasses of wine before he led her out onto the terrace as the other guests went into dine.

As he had not spoken a word, neither did she. For all she cared, they could enjoy the cool breezes, sip their wine and bask in the silence.

“You gave me the cut direct!”

Ah, he speaks and that is what had upset him.

“It was not my intention. Unfortunately, my irritation from today surfaced when I saw your face,” she explained. “However, you also did not ask me to dance but ordered in your proper ducal tone. That was not appreciated either.”

“Yes, well, I was irritated at your deliberately and pointedly ignoring me, especially as others watched on.”

“Do you fear your reputation will suffer?” she asked with humor. “You are a bachelor duke of an acceptable, nearly young age. I doubt there is anything that you could do that would make Society reject you.”

He coughed on his wine. “Nearly young. I will have you know that I am only in my thirtieth year.”

“That is not so very young,” she whispered. “You have likely already lived half of your life.”

“Good God! Are you often so morbid?”

“I am simply stating a fact,” Penelope insisted though pleased that she’d shocked him. However, given she was five and twenty, she too, was likely approaching her halfway mark, which was rather disconcerting.

“Lady Penelope, I would like to thank you for the assistance you have given my cousins.”

Her heart seized for a moment. Was he going to ask her not to return to his home?

Why was it so important to her? She did not know, but it was.

“I find that I was clearly ignorant as to what they required.”

“How could you have known?” she returned. “Did you go about seeing that your sister was presented properly? No,” she answered for him. “You simply assumed all was taken care of by others and went about your business.” She had not meant for her words to be an insult. “It is the way of Society. I am certain that my brother has no idea what his sisters did to prepare for a Season and likely only learned after he had wed.”

“It is easier to be a male,” he admitted and took a drink of his wine.

“Especially when one is a duke,” she teased. “You could arrive in a sackcloth and not having shaved for a month and the debutantes would still hope that you noticed them.”

He chuckled. “And, what of you, Lady Penelope. What would you do if I were to do so?”

Her heart warmed, as she truly would like to see him in such a state and then perhaps, he wouldn’t be so handsome.

She leaned in. “Take a razor to your cheek, of course, then send you off to a proper tailor.”

The corner of his mouth tipped. “Now that is enticing, Lady Penelope.”

Her face heated but she was certain that it was because they were too close and she was the one who had placed herself there. He studied her eyes, then glanced at her lips, then smiled.

For a moment she thought he might kiss her, and as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted him to.

What was wrong with her?

Eldridge slowly smiled. “I am just not so certain that I want you with a blade so close to my throat.”

From anyone else, that would be an insult, but there was a teasing in his tone.

“I would be oh so careful, Your Grace,” she returned.

“I will keep that in mind if my valet ever leaves me.”

Penelope had never been so aware of another man in her life. Her body heated simply being close to him, and she longed for his lips to be on hers.

Never had she suffered from such a need and pulled herself away to sip her wine, hoping that it would calm and cool her.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he drank from his glass.

He could not possibly be aware of his effect on her and Penelope certainly was not going to tell him.

“Tell me, why is it that you chose Petrucio Valentine, the actor, to cut their hair.”

Penelope blew out a sigh, glad that they returned to a safer topic. “He has an interest in becoming a Ladies’ Hair-Dresser, a Gentleman’s Hair-Dresser, Perfumer and Ornamental Hair Manufacturer.”

“Instead of acting?”

“Yes. He has made wigs for the theatre and assisted actresses and actors with their hair and believes he would enjoy owning his own shop over performing on the stage. It has grown old and he wants to be settled instead of traveling.” She smiled. “As he put it, he enjoys making people beautiful and has a talent for it.”

“Then I wish him luck in his endeavors.”

“You will not oppose him to visiting your home tomorrow.”

“No. Of course not. If you believe hair needs to be cut, then it shall be.”

Thank goodness, for she did not know who she would turn to for what was necessary if not Petrucio.

“Is it necessary that they not attend any functions for a sennight? What else must be accomplished?” He nearly grumbled the question.

She kept her composure but inwardly Penelope feared what his next reaction would be. “There is much that needs to be done to set the tone for when they reemerge in a ballroom. If anyone noticed they were gone, I want them to wonder why. If they are seen out in the park and shopping but not attending balls, they will want to know why. And as their appearance improves, they will become a curiosity, a mystery and many will wonder why they have shunned Society so that when they do finally make an appearance again, everyone will be eager to meet them.”

Eldridge shook his head. “Where and when will that occur?”

“In a sennight at the ball you will be hosting.”