Page 5 of Trusting Her Duke

The dining room at Ravensworth Hall was clearly designed to impress. Two massive chandeliers cast warm light over a table that could easily seat twenty, though tonight only three places were set at one end. Crystal and silver gleamed, while the deep green walls seemed to gather shadows in their corners despite the chandeliers’ best efforts. Penelope entered to find both gentlemen already present. The Duke stood with his back to the fire, while Lord Albert lounged against a sideboard with casual grace. Both men bowed, Lord Albert’s gesture friendly, the Duke’s precisely correct and somehow remote.

“Lady Penelope.” The Duke’s deep voice seemed to resonate in the large room. “I trust you find yourself adequately comfortable, despite the circumstances?”

“Quite comfortable, thank you, Your Grace.” Penelope allowed him to seat her, acutely aware of his presence behind her chair – and the fact that, really, they had no socially acceptable chaperone here…. “Your staff have been most kind.”

“Remarkably good servants here,” Lord Albert observed cheerfully, taking his own seat. “Though I suspect that has more to do with Alexander’s management than anything else. Gone are the days when one could find Jameson sleeping in the silver pantry.”

The Duke shot his cousin a quelling look as he sat.

“I hardly think Lady Penelope needs to hear ancient household gossip, Albert.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Lord Albert’s eyes twinkled as the first course was served. “It rather illustrates the difference good management can make, doesn’t it? Rather like those drainage improvements we were discussing earlier.”

Penelope noted how the Duke’s shoulders tensed slightly at this obvious attempt to draw him into conversation. His green eyes flickered to her face briefly before he turned his attention to his soup.

“I understand that you take a great interest in estate improvements, Your Grace?”

She kept her tone carefully neutral, though she couldn’t quite suppress her curiosity about this aspect of his character.

“I believe that responsible estate management requires attention to detail.”

His voice held that familiar cold note that seemed designed to discourage further questions.

“Oh, come now, Alexander!” Lord Albert laughed. “You can hardly describe your three-month study of soil drainage patterns as mere ‘attention to detail’. I thought Featherstone would expire from excitement when you approved his new system.”

Penelope found herself leaning forward with interest.

“Three months of study? That seems quite thorough.”

“One cannot make informed decisions without proper understanding.” The Duke’s tone suggested that he found this self-evident. “Though I suppose such methodical approaches lack the dramatic appeal of more... emotional responses to problems.”

The subtle dig at her charitable works made Penelope’s teeth clench.

“Indeed, Your Grace? How fortunate that you have time for such extensive study. Some of us must occasionally act more quickly when we see immediate need.”

The Duke’s eyes met hers across the table, and for a moment the air seemed to crackle between them.

“Immediate action without proper understanding often causes more problems than it solves, Lady Penelope.”

“Whereas endless study while people suffer shows a remarkable lack of humanity, Your Grace.”

Lord Albert’s head swivelled between them as if watching a tennis match.

“I say, the soup is particularly good tonight, isn’t it? Cook has quite outdone herself.”

Neither Penelope nor the Duke appeared to hear him.

“You presume to judge my humanity?” The Duke’s voice had dropped dangerously low. “Based on what? Village gossip and your own prejudiced assumptions?”

“I judge what I observe, Your Grace.” Penelope lifted her chin. “Your own words about ‘interfering females’ and ‘sentimental foolishness’ made your position quite clear.”

“Did they?” He set down his soup spoon with precise care. “How interesting that you feel qualified to understand my position so completely after one public encounter and a handful of hours in my home. Tell me, do you always form such quick judgements, or am I especially honoured?”

A flush crept up Penelope’s neck, but she held his gaze.

“Do you always dismiss others’ efforts to help those in need, or am I especially honoured?”

“I dismiss efforts that do more harm than good, regardless of their intent.” His voice held that insufferable tone of superiority that made her want to scream. “Good intentions without proper planning merely create dependency and instability.”

“Whereas proper planning without action creates nothing at all,” she shot back. “Tell me, Your Grace, how do your extensive studies help a family whose roof leaks now?”

Lord Albert cleared his throat rather loudly.

“I say, is that thunder getting louder? Remarkable storm, really. Most remarkable.”

But neither of them looked away from their clash of wills. The Duke’s green eyes had darkened to the colour of winter moss, and Penelope found her breath coming slightly faster, though surely that was just anger.

“An interesting example,” he said softly. “Tell me, Lady Penelope, what would you do about such a leak?”

“I would fix it, of course!”

“Immediately?”

“Of course, immediately! You would prefer that the family suffer while you studied the proper angle of roof tiles?”

“I would prefer,” his voice held something that might have been amusement or might have been anger, “to fix it properly the first time, rather than waste resources on a temporary solution that would fail again with the next storm.”

Penelope opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again as his words sank in. There was, she had to admit, at least some logic in his position. But before she could frame a response, the second course arrived. The Duke turned his attention to his plate with that same precise care that he seemed to bring to everything. The elegant efficiency of his movements drew her eye despite herself - even cutting meat, he displayed a kind of commanding grace that she found... disturbing.

“I trust that the venison is to your taste, Lady Penelope?”

His voice was perfectly correct again, as if their heated exchange had never happened.

“It’s excellent, thank you.” She forced herself to focus on her food rather than the way that his hands handled the silverware. “Your cook is very accomplished.”

“Mrs Graves has been with us since I was a boy.” For a moment, something almost soft touched his expression. “She was one of the few staff who stayed after... well, after my mother died.”

“The Duchess was much loved, I understand.”

Penelope watched his face carefully as she spoke.

“She was.” His expression shuttered again immediately. “Though her methods of managing the estate were not always... practical.”

“Unlike your own très méthodique approach, cousin?” Lord Albert’s voice held a gentle challenge. “Though I seem to recall that the Duchess also believed in understanding situations thoroughly before acting.”

“She believed in many things.” The Duke’s tone discouraged further discussion of the topic. “Not all of them wise.”

Lightning flickered beyond the dining room windows, followed by a crash of thunder that made the crystal glasses ring faintly. Penelope noticed that the Duke’s eyes went immediately to the windows, his expression showing brief concern.

“Still flooding out there, I’ll warrant,” Lord Albert observed. “Good thing you had Featherstone shore up that bridge last autumn, Alexander. The old structure would never have held in this.”

“Another of your extensive studies, Your Grace?”

Penelope couldn’t quite keep the hint of challenge from her voice.

His eyes returned to her face.

“Indeed. Though perhaps you would have preferred that I simply threw a few boards across and hoped for the best?”

“That would rather depend on whether anyone needed to cross while you conducted your study, wouldn’t it?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but something that might have been reluctant respect flickered in his eyes.

“You are very quick to challenge my methods, Lady Penelope. Yet I note that your own charitable endeavours seem quite methodically organised, from what I hear.”

Penelope blinked, surprised that he knew anything about her work.

“You... have heard about our charitable network?”

“I make it my business to know what occurs in the county.” His tone was dry. “Particularly when it might affect estate stability.”

“I assure you, Your Grace, we have no intention of destabilising anything.” Penelope set down her fork with careful precision. “Our goal is to prevent problems before they become crises.”

“Through coordinated grain purchases and organised distribution?” His raised eyebrow suggested he knew far more than she’d expected. “Rather systematic for someone who advocates immediate action over careful study.”

“One can plan methodically while still responding promptly to immediate needs.” Penelope met his gaze steadily. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

For a moment, something almost like approval crossed his face. Then Jameson appeared at his elbow, murmuring something too low for Penelope to hear. The Duke’s expression darkened.

“More trees down?” Lord Albert asked, obviously having caught the butler’s words.

“Yes. The old oak by the south path has fallen.” The Duke’s voice held genuine regret. “That tree was there in my grandfather’s time.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Penelope asked before she could stop herself.

His eyes met hers again, and this time there was definitely a hint of approval.

“No. Thanks to Featherstone’s ‘excessive’ pruning last autumn, it fell away from the path.”

“Another result of careful study?”

She kept her tone light, almost teasing, surprising herself.

“Indeed.” His lips twitched slightly. “Though I’m sure you would have simply chopped it down immediately.”

“Only if someone needed the firewood, Your Grace.”

Lord Albert’s quiet chuckle broke the strange tension that had built between them.

“I must say, cousin, it’s rather refreshing to hear someone challenge you so directly. Most people are far too intimidated.”

“I am not intimidated by His Grace,” Penelope declared, lifting her chin.

“So I observe.” The Duke’s voice held that note she couldn’t quite interpret - amusement? Annoyance? Something else entirely? “Though perhaps you should be.”

“Should I?” Penelope heard the challenge in her own voice and wondered at her daring. “Are you so very frightening then, Your Grace?”

The look he gave her made her breath catch.

“I can be, Lady Penelope.” His deep voice seemed to caress her name in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “When sufficiently provoked.”

Lord Albert coughed rather pointedly.

“I say, do you think this rain will affect the spring planting? Most inconvenient timing.”

Neither Penelope nor the Duke responded immediately, their gazes still locked in what felt like a silent duel. Finally, the Duke turned to his cousin.

“The drainage improvements should prevent any significant delays.” His voice was back to its usual precise tones. “Though I’ll have Featherstone check the lower fields tomorrow.”

The remainder of dinner passed in more general conversation, with Lord Albert skilfully keeping the topic to safe subjects like the weather and local news. Yet Penelope remained acutely aware of the Duke’s presence, of every movement of his hands, every slight change in his expression.

When the meal finally ended, the Duke rose with that same fluid grace that made him seem more warrior than aristocrat.

“Lady Penelope, perhaps you would prefer to retire early? After your... adventures today.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, but I am not particularly tired.” She met his eyes steadily. “Though if you wish to be rid of my presence, you need only say so.”

Lord Albert made a sound that might have been either a laugh or a cough. The Duke’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I merely thought you might wish to rest.” His tone could have frozen the wine in the glasses. “But by all means, join us in the library if you prefer. I believe that there are several volumes on charitable organisation that might interest you.”

“How thoughtful.” Penelope matched his tone perfectly. “Though perhaps I might find your treatise on drainage more entertaining?”

For a moment, she thought she saw his lips twitch again. But before he could respond, a tremendous crash of thunder made her jump slightly. In the same instant, all the candles in the room flickered ominously as the air in the room shifted.

“Perhaps the library would be wise,” Lord Albert suggested quickly. “It’s rather more sheltered than this room, and the fire there is usually better established.”

The Duke offered Penelope his arm with rigid courtesy. As her fingers settled on his coat sleeve, she felt the solid muscle beneath the fine wool and had to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

They had barely taken three steps when another thunderous crash shook the house. The candles flickered again, and this time went out completely as a gust of air found its way in around the windows, plunging them into darkness broken only by occasional flashes of lightning seen through the windows.

In the sudden darkness, Penelope found herself clutching the Duke’s arm more tightly than strict propriety would allow. His other hand came up immediately to cover hers, steadying her as they moved into the hall.

“Be careful,” his voice came from surprisingly close to her ear. “There are steps just ahead.”

His warm breath stirred the curls near her temple, making her intensely aware of how close they stood. The occasional lightning flash illuminated his profile in stark relief, and Penelope found herself grateful for the darkness that hid her burning cheeks.

“Dash it all,” Lord Albert’s voice came from somewhere behind them. “Where’s Jameson got to with a lamp?”

“Here, my Lord!” The butler’s voice preceded a welcome glow of lamplight. “The wind has affected the chimney drafts, which is causing problems with the candles, but the lamps should serve.”

In the soft lamplight, Penelope suddenly realised that she was still clutching the Duke’s arm rather desperately. She made to pull away, but his hand tightened briefly over hers.

“Carefully,” he murmured. “The floor can be treacherous in this light.”

She wanted to protest that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, but something in his tone stopped her. This protective gesture seemed almost unconscious, at odds with his usually rigid manner.

They made their way to the library without further incident, though Penelope remained uncomfortably aware of the Duke’s solid presence beside her. The library proved to be both warmer and better lit than the dining room, with a fire burning cheerfully in the massive fireplace.

“There now,” Lord Albert said cheerfully as they entered. “Much more comfortable. Though I must say, Alexander, perhaps it’s time to consider installing some of those new gas lights I’ve heard about?”

“Gas is still experimental,” the Duke replied, finally releasing Penelope’s hand to motion her to a chair near the fire. “I prefer to wait until the technology is more proven.”

“More extensive study required?” Penelope couldn’t resist asking, as she settled into the offered chair.

His eyes met hers, and in the firelight they seemed to hold hints of gold among the green.

“Precisely. Though perhaps you would prefer that we simply set the house ablaze immediately?”

“Only if someone were freezing, Your Grace.”

That almost-smile touched his lips again.

“You are very quick with your responses, Lady Penelope.”

“Whereas you, Your Grace, prefer to consider every word thoroughly before speaking?”

“I prefer,” he said softly, taking the chair opposite her, “to be certain of my ground before taking action. Unlike some, who seem to delight in rushing in where angels fear to tread.”

The firelight caught the angles of his face, softening his usual severity, and Penelope found herself studying him with unwilling fascination. There was something almost vulnerable in his expression as he gazed into the flames.

“Sometimes,” she said, her voice gentler than she’d intended, “one must act on faith rather than certainty.”

His eyes lifted to meet hers.