Page 11 of Trusting Her Duke

There was a moment of silence in the room as everyone took in the implications. Penelope felt, in that instant, rather sick in the stomach. But then, the Duke straightened, his manner shifting from personal to commanding in an instant.

“What kind of speeches?”

“About changes coming to both estates, sir. He’s offering to have his solicitors draw up new tenancy agreements with better terms for those willing to give sworn testimony supporting his claims in Chancery.” Mary’s usually calm face showed real concern. “Some of the younger farmers seemed excited by his promises, not understanding they’d be binding themselves under oath.”

“Of course they are,” Penelope said bitterly. “He’s offering them dreams without explaining that false testimony before the Court could cost them more than just their tenancies.”

“Then perhaps,” the Duke said quietly, “we should ensure that they understand what sworn testimony in Chancery means.” He turned to her, something like challenge in his eyes. “You know these families, their concerns. Would you be willing to help them understand the legal implications before Sir Lionel’s solicitors take their depositions?”

“Together?”

The word escaped before she could consider its implications.

“Together.” His voice held certainty, and something warmer that made her breath catch. “After all, they should see that both estates stand united before the Court. False testimony under oath carries serious consequences.”

The Earl watched this exchange with raised eyebrows.

“An excellent suggestion. Though perhaps we should discuss strategy over luncheon? These matters are always clearer with food.”

As they moved towards the dining room, Penelope found herself walking beside the Duke. Their hands brushed briefly, sending sparks of awareness up her arm. Penelope realised that she was carrying the notebook she’d been adding to so extensively – the notebook designed to aid their compilation of evidence. Suddenly, it seemed extremely sensible to her that she should present that evidence to Alexander, that he could best use it. The moment seemed right, so she paused slightly as they walked, he stopped beside her.

“I… I have something for you.” She held out the notebook, and he took it, his expression uncertain. “It’s a summary of everything we’ve discovered so far. I thought that you would find it useful.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, pitched for her ears alone.

“For what? It’s just some notes.”

He shook his head, his expression a little bemused.

“Not just for the notebook. For being willing to face this. For helping protect both our estates. For...” he hesitated, then added even more quietly, “for understanding what must be done.”

She looked up at him, struck again by how his severe features could soften when he chose, how his eyes could hold such unexpected warmth.

“We protect what matters,” she said simply.

His hand brushed hers again, and this time she was certain it wasn’t accidental.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “We do.”

*****

Candlelight transformed the dining room of Ravensworth Hall into something from a fairy tale. Crystal sparkled, silver gleamed, and the deep green walls seemed to gather shadows in their corners despite the dozens of candles burning in massive silver holders.

Penelope stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before her. The Duke had insisted on hosting a small dinner party - a calculated display of confidence before the local gentry, many of whom would likely be called to testify about traditional boundaries and ancient rights. Local landowners filled the room with quiet conversation and rustling silk, though Penelope noticed how they gathered in small clusters, discussing Sir Lionel’s legal manoeuvres in low voices.

Her blue silk evening gown whispered against the doorframe as she stepped into the room. She had taken extra care with her appearance tonight, though she tried not to examine her reasons too closely. The deep blue brought out gold lights in her hair, and Mary had arranged her curls with particular attention.

“Lady Penelope.” The Duke’s voice came from behind her, making her start slightly. “You look...” he paused, something flickering in his eyes as he took in her appearance. “Most elegant.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She tried to ignore how his evening clothes emphasised his height and breadth of shoulder, how his perfectly tied cravat drew attention to his strong jaw. “Though I wonder if a dinner party is truly wise, given the circumstances?”

“Precisely because of the circumstances.” He offered his arm to lead her into the room. “We must show that we stand firm, that Sir Lionel’s legal manoeuvres haven’t shaken our position. The Court of Chancery takes note of such things - how established families maintain their estates during disputes.”

His sleeve felt warm under her fingers, the fine wool of his evening coat unable to completely mask the strength beneath. They moved through the room together, greeting guests with careful courtesy while maintaining a united front that she suspected wasn’t lost on their observers.

“Did you notice,” he murmured as they paused between groups, “how Lady Ashworth keeps glancing at Sir Lionel’s empty chair? Her husband sits on the local bench - he’d be among the first to know if Sir Lionel has filed any claims with the Court.”

Indeed, the elegant matron had looked several times at the conspicuously vacant place setting.

“She was rather friendly with him at her card party last month,” Penelope replied quietly. “Do you think she’s involved in his schemes?”

“No.” His voice held certainty. “But she might know something useful. Perhaps you could...”

“Draw her out?” Penelope smiled slightly. “I suspect she’d be more receptive to feminine curiosity than masculine interrogation.”

That almost-smile touched his lips.

“Precisely why I asked.” His hand covered hers briefly where it rested on his arm. “You see things I might miss.”

The warmth of his touch seemed to linger even after he’d released her. Before she could respond, Lord Albert approached, his usually cheerful face serious.

“Featherstone’s here,” he said quietly. “He says Sir Lionel’s solicitors have been taking depositions from tenant farmers - not just about boundaries, but about supposed private agreements they claim to have witnessed.”

The Duke’s expression hardened.

“Now?”

“He says it’s urgent.”

“Go,” Penelope said softly. “I’ll keep Lady Ashworth occupied.”

He looked down at her, something complex moving behind his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” She smiled, trying to project more confidence than she felt. “After all, we protect what matters.”

His eyes warmed at her echo of their earlier conversation.

For a moment, she thought he might say something more, but instead he simply bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her gloves in a gesture that seemed more genuine than mere courtesy.

As he left with Lord Albert, Penelope turned to find Lady Ashworth watching her with shrewd interest.

Well then.

Time to discover what the lady might know about Sir Lionel’s plans.

*****

Music began as dinner concluded, the small orchestra in the gallery filling the air with elegant strains of Mozart. Couples moved towards the ballroom, drawn by the promise of dancing.

Penelope remained at the dining table a moment longer, considering what she’d learned from Lady Ashworth.

The older woman’s carefully worded hints suggested that Sir Lionel had been mortgaging future expectations heavily in London.

More concerning were her observations about his recent visitors - men known, she had discovered, for purchasing disputed property claims and pursuing them through Chancery.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

She looked up to find the Duke beside her again, his expression suggesting that his own conversation had been equally troubling.

“Lady Ashworth proved quite informative about Sir Lionel’s activities in London’s financial circles,” she said quietly. “Though perhaps we should discuss what she revealed about his dealings with certain solicitors somewhere more private?” He offered his arm again, but instead of leading her to his study, he guided her towards the ballroom. “We should be seen dancing,” he murmured. “It will seem odd if we disappear to talk business now.”

Her pulse quickened at the thought of dancing with him. They had maintained careful distance these past days, despite working closely together.

Physical proximity seemed somehow more dangerous than intellectual cooperation.

The first notes of a waltz filled the air as they took their places.

His hand settled at her waist, warm through the silk of her gown, while hers found his shoulder. Even through layers of evening clothes, she could feel the strength in him, the contained power that made him so commanding.

“Tell me what you learned,” he said softly as they began to move.

His voice was pitched low, for her ears alone, and his breath stirred the curls near her temple.

Penelope tried to focus on Lady Ashworth’s revelations rather than how perfectly they moved together, how naturally they found their rhythm.

“He’s been borrowing heavily,” she managed, though her voice wasn’t quite steady. “From some rather questionable sources.”

“Ah.” His hand tightened slightly at her waist as he guided her through a turn. “That explains Featherstone’s news. Sir Lionel has been offering to purchase tenant rights and ancient claims - for considerably more than they’re worth.”

“ But he hasn’t the funds for that,” Penelope frowned, momentarily forgetting their intimate position in her concern. “Unless...”

“Unless he’s already sold the potential proceeds to his London creditors.” His voice held controlled anger. “He’s mortgaging the outcome of a Chancery case he hasn’t even won yet - promising them portions of two prosperous estates in exchange for funds to pursue his claims.”

The music swelled around them as they turned again.

Penelope was acutely aware of how other couples had drawn back slightly, giving them more space on the dance floor.

No doubt tomorrow there would be gossip about the Duke of Ravensworth dancing exclusively with Lady Penelope Whitmore.

“We need to warn the tenants,” she said, pushing aside thoughts of gossip. “Before any of them give sworn statements to his solicitors. Once they’ve testified in Chancery, they’ll be bound by their words.”

“Already done.” His thumb moved slightly against her waist, probably unconsciously, but the small motion sent awareness shivering through her. “Featherstone is explaining the legal implications tonight. But there’s something else more concerning about these depositions...”

He pulled her slightly closer as another couple passed nearby. The scent of cologne and starched linen enveloped her, making it difficult to concentrate.

“What else?” she managed, looking up at him.

It was a mistake. His eyes caught hers, and for a moment the rest of the room seemed to fade away.

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere more private after all,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.

The music drew to a close, but neither of them moved immediately apart. Around them, other couples began leaving the dance floor, but they stood frozen in their own pocket of silence.

“The conservatory?” she suggested, surprised at how breathless she sounded.

He nodded, offering his arm once again. As they walked from the ballroom, Penelope caught Lord Albert’s knowing smile and her father’s raised eyebrow. But there wasn’t time to worry about appearances - not with Sir Lionel’s threats hanging over them.

The conservatory was lit only by moonlight filtering through the glass panels overhead. Night-blooming jasmine filled the air with sweet perfume, and somewhere water trickled in one of the ornamental fountains.

Their footsteps echoed softly on the tiled floor as they moved deeper into the jungle-like space.

“Featherstone found these in Sir Lionel’s carriage house,” the Duke said without preamble, withdrawing several folded papers from his coat. “His groom has apparently developed a conscience - or perhaps simply a healthy fear of being charged as party to falsifying documents meant for the Court of Chancery.”

Penelope moved closer to see the documents in the dim light.

Their shoulders brushed as they bent over the papers together, and she felt him tense slightly at the contact.

“These are...” she broke off, anger flooding her as she recognised what she was seeing. “These are forgeries meant to look like private agreements that would invalidate our registered claims. But they’re better than his previous attempts.”

“Yes.” His voice was tight with controlled fury. “He’s had them professionally prepared this time, complete with false dates and counterfeit seals. The sort of documents that could force lengthy examinations in Chancery, even if they’re eventually proved false.”

She leaned closer, trying to see the details he indicated. His hand came up to steady her, resting warm against her back, and suddenly she was acutely aware of how alone they were, how intimate the moonlit conservatory felt.

“The signatures look almost real,” she said, trying to focus on the documents rather than his proximity. “But surely any careful examination would show...”

“That’s just it.” He turned slightly towards her, his hand still at her back. “These aren’t meant for close scrutiny by the Court. They’re meant to force us into lengthy Chancery proceedings, creating just enough doubt about our rightful claims... The process of verification could take months, even years. Meanwhile, every registered right, every ancient claim would be held in question. The Court tends to preserve the status quo during disputes, which means...”

“It would force both estates to defend against false claims,” she finished. “Draining resources, creating delays...”

“Until his creditors lose patience.” His voice had dropped lower, and she realised they’d drawn even closer together as they talked. “He’s already selling portions of what he hopes to gain in Chancery. The longer the case drags on, the more pressure they’ll apply. Until selling becomes the only way to end the legal battles.”

She looked up at him, ready to suggest some strategy for countering this threat. But the words died in her throat as she met his eyes. In the moonlight, they seemed darker than usual, full of something that had nothing to do with estate management.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The distant sound of music drifted from the ballroom, muted by distance and glass walls. A night bird called somewhere in the darkness beyond the conservatory windows. Penelope felt her pulse thundering in her ears, every nerve aware of his proximity, of how his hand still rested warm against her back.

“We should...” she began, but couldn’t quite remember what they should do.

His other hand had come up to touch her cheek, so gently she might have imagined it.

“Yes,” he agreed softly, though she hadn’t finished her thought. “We should.”

Then he was kissing her, and thinking became impossible. His lips were warm and sure against hers, one hand cupping her face while the other drew her closer.

She found herself responding without conscious decision, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as if they belonged there.

The kiss deepened, and Penelope discovered that his careful control extended to this too - each movement deliberate yet somehow burning with contained passion. She felt rather than heard his soft groan as she pressed closer, forgetting everything but the feel of him, the taste of him, the way the world seemed to narrow to just this moment.

A crash from the direction of the main part of the house shattered the silence. They broke apart, both breathing heavily. For a moment they simply stared at each other, the reality of what they’d done settling over them like evening dew.

“Your Grace!” Lord Albert’s voice carried from the house, urgent and unwelcome. “Alexander!”

The Duke’s expression shifted from dazed to alarmed.

“Something’s wrong.”

His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer before releasing her. Penelope felt the loss of contact like a physical thing, but pushed the sensation aside as Lord Albert’s rapid footsteps approached.

“Alexander!” Albert burst into the conservatory, barely sparing a glance for their intimate positioning. “You need to come to your study. Now . Someone’s been through the deed box. The registry copies are disturbed.”