Page 7 of Trusting Her Duke
The morning room presented a rather different aspect in daylight. Sunlight now struggled through the clearing clouds, illuminating elegant furniture that Penelope realised must have been selected by the late Duchess - the feminine touches were similar to those in her borrowed bedroom, yet clearly of an earlier style. The impression of the previous Duchess’s taste lingering in the room was somehow both comforting and melancholy.
Three men stood as the ladies entered - the Duke by the window, his tall figure silhouetted against the brightening sky, Lord Albert lounging near the fireplace with carefully casual grace, and a stranger who could only be Sir Lionel Fletcher.
Penelope’s first impression was of studied charm masking something far less pleasant. Sir Lionel was handsome in a conventional way, his clothes fashionable without being ostentatious, his manner perfectly correct. Yet something about him set her teeth on edge.
“Ah, Rosalind!” He stepped forward immediately, his smile just a fraction too practiced. “And who is this charming creature?”
“Lady Penelope Whitmore,” the Duke’s deep voice cut across whatever Rosalind had been about to say and something in his tone suggested that he didn’t care for Sir Lionel’s familiar manner. “Who found herself storm-stayed with us last evening.”
Penelope didn’t miss the sharp calculation that flickered through Sir Lionel’s eyes before his smile widened.
“Lady Penelope! I’ve heard so much about your charitable works. Such... touching... concern for the lower classes.”
The subtle emphasis made Penelope’s spine stiffen. Before she could frame a suitably cutting response, Rosalind spoke.
“Lady Penelope takes a very practical approach to estate management, Sir Lionel. Rather like my brother, actually.”
The Duke’s eyebrows rose slightly at this comparison, while Sir Lionel’s smile acquired a distinct edge. Penelope noticed how he shifted slightly, attempting to position himself between her and the Duke, as if to dominate the conversation.
“How fascinating.” His tone suggested that it was anything but. “Though surely such concerns are better left to those more qualified? I cannot imagine that Lord Stanyon appreciates his daughter involving herself in such matters.”
“My father,” Penelope said coolly, “believes that understanding all aspects of estate management is essential for anyone of our class. Whether male or female.”
She moved deliberately to stand nearer to Lady Rosalind, refusing to be manipulated by Sir Lionel’s attempt to isolate her. From this position, she could see both his face and the Duke’s, and the contrast was striking. Where Sir Lionel’s expression held calculated charm, the Duke’s showed genuine, if carefully controlled, irritation.
“Indeed?” Sir Lionel’s gaze shifted to the Duke. “Rather progressive views, wouldn’t you say, Ravensworth? Though perhaps not surprising, given Stanyon’s... reputation for unusual methods.”
The Duke straightened slightly, his expression hardening in a way Penelope was beginning to recognise as dangerous.
“I find practical knowledge admirable in any form, Sir Lionel. Though some prefer to manage their estates from London.”
The subtle dig clearly struck home. Sir Lionel’s practiced smile slipped for just a moment, revealing something cold and angry beneath. He recovered quickly, but not before Penelope saw Lord Albert and Lady Rosalind exchange a significant look.
“Speaking of estate management,” Sir Lionel produced some papers from his coat with a flourish that seemed rehearsed, “I actually came to discuss that matter of the disputed woodland. I’ve discovered some rather intriguing documents that might interest you.”
Penelope noticed how Lady Rosalind tensed at the mention of the woodland. The Duke’s expression remained impassive, but something in his stance suggested increased attention. He moved slightly, almost unconsciously, as if to shield both his sister and Penelope from Sir Lionel’s predatory smile.
“Indeed?” His tone could have frozen the morning tea. “How fortuitous that you should discover such documents just now.”
“Yes, quite fascinating really.” Sir Lionel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he tapped the papers against his palm. “It seems that there may be some question about the original boundary lines. Documents that might affect both Ravensworth and Stanyon lands, actually.”
Penelope felt rather than saw the Duke’s quick glance in her direction. His face remained impassive, but she sensed his concern - not for himself, she realised suddenly, but for how this might affect her family.
“Perhaps,” he said carefully, “such matters should be discussed privately.”
“Oh, but surely Lady Penelope would be interested, given that her family’s lands are involved?” Sir Lionel’s voice held a note that made Penelope’s skin crawl. “Unless, of course, there’s some reason you’d prefer she not know about these... discrepancies?”
The implied threat hung in the air like poison. Penelope lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated.
“I’m sure that my father would be happy to discuss any concerns directly with His Grace,” she said firmly. “Though it seems odd that documents about our lands should come into your possession, Sir Lionel.”
“One hears things, my dear lady. One investigates.” His smile widened unpleasantly. “One discovers all sorts of interesting facts about one’s neighbours.”
“Does one indeed?” The Duke’s voice had dropped to that dangerous tone Penelope remembered from their arguments. But where their debates had held passionate conviction, this held something colder. “How very... industrious of you.”
Lord Albert, who had been watching this exchange with unusual gravity, suddenly straightened.
“I say, didn’t you mention wanting to show Lady Penelope the conservatory, Rosalind? While there’s still some morning light?”
“What an excellent idea!” Lady Rosalind caught Penelope’s arm with what seemed like relief. “You simply must see it - though I fear the storm may have damaged some of the glass panels.”
As they left the room, Penelope glimpsed Sir Lionel’s face. The mask of charm had slipped completely, revealing something cold and calculating beneath. But more disturbing was the way that he watched the Duke - like a predator seeking weakness.
The door closed behind them with a decisive click.
“Well,” Rosalind said quietly as they moved down the corridor, “that was thoroughly unpleasant. Though I must say, you handled him beautifully.”
“He seems...”
Penelope searched for a diplomatic word, conscious of their footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
“Horrible?” Rosalind supplied helpfully. “Sly? Manipulative? Do feel free to choose any or all of those. He’s been trying to cause trouble ever since Alexander refused to sell him that piece of woodland last year.”
They reached the conservatory doors, and, once inside, Rosalind drew Penelope to a window seat nearby. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, creating pools of warmth on the polished floor.
“There’s something you should know,” she said, her usual animation replaced by serious concern. “Sir Lionel’s father and ours were rivals of sorts. When Papa died, Sir Lionel’s father tried to claim that some old gambling debts invalidated our claim to part of the estate. It was nonsense, of course, but Alexander had to fight it in court while still grieving and trying to manage everything else.”
“How terrible!”
Penelope felt a surge of sympathy for the Duke, imagining him dealing with such challenges while newly returned from war, and bereaved.
“Indeed. And now Sir Lionel seems determined to continue his father’s vendetta.” Rosalind’s dark eyes showed a flash of her brother’s steel. “Though bringing your family into it... that’s new. And concerning.”
“But surely he can’t really threaten either estate?” Penelope tried to sound more confident than she felt. “If the boundaries have been established for generations...”
“Old documents can be... interpreted in many ways.” Rosalind’s voice held careful neutrality. “Especially in the Court of Chancery. And Sir Lionel has been gathering tenant depositions to support his claims - offering better terms to any who’ll testify in his favour. Not to mention his friends among certain London solicitors.”
A crash from the direction of the morning room made them both start. Through the heavy doors, they could hear the Duke’s voice, though not his words. The tone, however, was unmistakably angry.
Rosalind’s expression showed brief satisfaction.
“Good. Alexander’s finally losing patience with him.”
“Should we...”
Penelope gestured vaguely towards the morning room.
“Oh no.” Rosalind’s smile held a hint of sisterly pride. “Alexander handles Sir Lionel much better when we’re not there to be used as tactical advantages. Besides,” she added, rising and moving further into the conservatory, “I really do want to show you something.”
The conservatory was a magnificent space, though signs of the storm’s fury were evident in several cracked panes near the ceiling. Morning light filtered through the glass, creating rainbow patterns on the exotic plants that filled the space.
“Most of these were Mother’s,” Rosalind said softly, leading Penelope down a narrow path between flowering shrubs. “Alexander maintains them exactly as she did, though he pretends it’s merely practical to keep the structure in use.” They reached a small clearing where a delicate wrought-iron table and chairs stood surrounded by blooming orchids. Rosalind touched one gently. “She loved these best. Said they were like people - each one unique, each requiring different care to thrive.” She turned to Penelope with sudden intensity. “That’s what Alexander’s forgotten, I think. That different problems need different solutions. That, sometimes, immediate action is as important as careful study.”
“Your brother seems very... committed to his methods,” Penelope offered carefully.
“He’s committed to protecting everything and everyone he cares for.” Rosalind’s voice held both pride and frustration. “But he’s so focused on preventing any possibility of failure that sometimes he forgets to actually live.”
Before Penelope could respond to this insight, Lord Albert appeared in the conservatory doorway.
“Ah, there you are!” His usually cheerful face looked troubled. “Sir Lionel has gone, thank heavens, but I’m afraid he’s left rather a mess behind him. Alexander wants to speak with you, Rosalind. And Lady Penelope... he asks if you would be willing to look at some documents regarding your father’s estate.”
Penelope felt her heart beat faster at this request. The Duke asking for her opinion suggested both trust and concern - neither of which she would have expected yesterday. They found him in the library, standing at a large table covered with maps and documents. Afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes disturbed by their entrance.
The Duke looked up as they entered, his face showing traces of the anger they’d heard earlier.
“Lady Penelope.” He bowed precisely. “I apologise for involving you in this... situation. But given Sir Lionel’s claims, I believe that you have a right to know exactly what we’re facing.”
She moved to the table, conscious of both his proximity and the seriousness of his expression. The map before them showed the boundaries between their estates, with the disputed woodland clearly marked.
“These are the original survey marks,” he indicated several points with a strong, capable finger. “But Sir Lionel claims to have documents suggesting that the boundaries were altered during our grandfathers’ time.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Rosalind exclaimed from Penelope’s other side. “Grandfather would never have...”
“No,” the Duke cut her off, “but Sir Lionel’s grandfather might have. And therein lies our problem.”
Penelope studied the map carefully, noting how the woodland in question formed a natural buffer between the estates.
“The tenant farmers use these paths regularly,” she observed. “Surely that established usage counts for something legally?”
The Duke’s eyes met hers with something like approval.
“Indeed. Though Sir Lionel seems to have found a judge in London who might disagree.”
“His solicitor in London is one who’s known for pursuing lengthy Chancery cases,” Lord Albert added grimly from near the fire. “The sort that can drain estates dry through legal costs alone.”
Understanding dawned.
“He means to force both estates into an extended legal battle in Chancery,” Penelope said slowly. “While using bribes and promises to turn our tenants against us.”
“Precisely.” The Duke’s voice held grim satisfaction at her quick grasp of the situation. “Though I suspect his ultimate goal is not the woodland itself.”
“No,” Rosalind agreed. “He wants to damage both estates enough that he can buy pieces of them cheaply. Just as his father tried to do.”
Penelope looked up to find the Duke watching her intently.
“What do you suggest we do?”
His eyes widened slightly at her inclusive ‘we’, but he didn’t correct her. Instead, he straightened, something like his usual commanding presence returning.
“First,” he said, “we secure our tenants’ true testimony and gather our documentation. Then we prepare to fight him in Chancery. Every false statement he obtains through bribery will only strengthen our case against him.”