Chapter 3
With a deep breath, Penny flattened out her pink dress. The color had been vibrant in its time. It was one of the dresses she had dumped when its Season passed but now dusted off to wear since she was lacking in dresses. She sighed.
Oh, how low our family has fallen .
“You can go in, Miss, but not for long,” the prison guard urged, and with a nod of her head, she entered the room where her father awaited her. It had been three days since her visit to Eleanor had put her in her place, but she had to see her father.
The place reeked of old irons and piss, dark with barely opened windows, and she had almost tripped on her foot from the darkness. If she knew any cuss words, that would have been the right time and place to unleash them. The stench of the place triggered an ache in the front of her head, but she knew it was more than just the stench. It was the fact she was to meet with her father.
Despite his lack of a title, the Ton had respected her father, for he was an avid businessman who rose to wealth in his craft. His father had a title, Earl of Brimsley, which was unfairly passed to his older brother. It was why her father worked hard, to prove he could surpass his brother even without a title. Now her uncle, the Earl of Brimsley, after claiming he wanted to mend his relationship with his brother, was nowhere to be found, renouncing every relationship with them. Penny gulped hard.
Then her father appeared.
Penny hid her hands behind her immediately and bowed her head.
“Are you well, Father?” He did not look well. He looked as though he had aged a few years in the two weeks he had spent there. A stubborn bush of hair surrounded his chin, and a flare of despair coursed through her. The Duke of Huxton was at fault for this, he had reduced her father to… this. A criminal.
“I should ask you that,” her father responded, a gruff edge to his tone. He did not look her in the eyes as he spoke. He could not bear to.
“I am well, Father. Aunt Augusta, Lydia, and I are just scraping through,” she responded, unsure if she should tell him just how different and difficult life was without him or Patrick around.
“As expected, women have their ways of surviving.”
Penny did not understand her father's words or the implications behind them. Instead, she nodded.
“Patrick, however, fled the country, and took with him whatever was left,” Penny could not leave without telling her father what Patrick had done. The older man sucked in a breath, and with a little pout, he nodded.
“I am sure he thought thoroughly about it. He had to save himself,” he said.
In the list of outrageous things Penny had heard since her father had been imprisoned, this was by far the worst one. It sat undefeated at the top of the list.
“Father, he left us with nothing?” Her statement had come off as a question instead. Perhaps her father thought she and her sister were truly well because she said they were? She merely wanted him to feel at ease instead of worrying for them, but he could not take Patrick’s side in this matter.
“And now you must make something of yourself to help your sister.”
Penny felt as though a bucket of ice water was doused over her head. Surely, there was nothing her father could do for them from prison, but was he going to shamelessly drop all the responsibilities on her shoulders instead of finding a way to have Patrick return?
“Father…” she stressed, but the man was unwavering in his stance.
“The Duke of Huxton and his drunkard of an uncle are to blame for this,” his voice grew dark. “The Cruel Duke is truly despicable to his business rivals. I still marvel at how low he stooped to ruin me.” Penny could feel her father’s anger as it came down on her like a heavy coat, blanketing her in the fierceness of it. She sighed and a long awkward silence stretched for several minutes. “Patrick had to save himself. And you… you must return now, Penny; these parts are far too dangerous for a woman like you.”
She nodded, and as she left, her heart broke into tiny pieces at seeing her father escorted away. The anger that she had suppressed for days returned, and with it came a stinging pain of hunger. She recalled she had not broken her fast, and the sun sat high up in the sky, shining down ruthlessly on everything in its wake.
The Duke of Huxton could be lounging around in his drawing room, eating a fine piece of ham, while she and her family wallowed in despair while wishing for some savior to whisk them away and provide for them. All because of him.
I will give that beast some piece of my mind!
It was unfair. The duke was unfair. No, he was cruel! A wicked, evil soul that deserved no good thing, and she had to let him know, demand an explanation. With full determination, Penny marched to the hill, where a lonely mansion sat. Large and gloomy it was, but it did not deter her until she called on him.
Inside the mansion, the butler wiped beads of sweat from his face as he pondered on what to do. The duke had been in a foul mood since he arose. He went about breaking things in his room, and no one could tell what angered him so. For this reason, Rufus paced back and forth until Mr. Patterson appeared.
“What is the matter, Rufus? You look like you have seen a ghost.” Harold approached him, and Rufus could not be happier. He quickly explained the situation at hand and how Miss Hislop stood outside, seeking an audience with the duke.
“Let her in; I will inform him myself.” With a bow, Rufus thanked the older man and went out to meet the young lady, letting her in.
The doors opened, and Penny sucked in a harsh breath as she took the seven stairs that led to the heavy black double doors.
This was a mistake. She sighed, but she could not get her legs to turn around. But I cannot back away now , she thought as she made her way to the duke’s study with the old butler leading the way. She was going to face the man who had brought misfortune to her family.
Or that had been the plan.
Something about the mansion reminded her of the prison house. The darkness. Only that the duke’s mansion was far worse than the prison house. Everything in her line of sight was black. The walls were painted the darkest shade of black she had ever seen. She did not know there was such a paint as dark as the night sky without stars or the moon. She had passed by windows with heavy black damask drapes covering them.
How does one even breathe in such a place?
The duke’s study was no different. A black pedestal desk greeted her the moment she stepped into the room, with a matching chair behind it. To her left sat two settees, the same color with sophisticated designs; she could only wonder where he had gotten so much black furniture from. The room lacked life, like all the other parts of the mansion she had passed. It seemed the Duke of Huxton detested any form of color or light in his life. She shuddered and bit her lower lip as a chill ran up her spine.
“What brings Miss Hislop to my doorstep so early this morning? Are you not aware it is quite improper for a lady to call upon a bachelor, nonetheless, in broad daylight?” The voice startled Penny as she had not heard any footsteps prior to his voice thundering behind her. She turned around and faced him. Had she not been burning with anger, she would have given in to the thrum of her heart at the sight of his wet, dark hair and stormy blue eyes. Or was it the slit of his exposed chest through his shirt with the first two buttons undone?
“Would you rather I call upon you at night then, Your Grace?”
Her boldness surprised her.
It seemed it surprised the Duke of Huxton as well as he took long, intimidating strides toward her, erasing whatever space was between them. She took one step back quickly to keep a safe distance from him. Despite her boldness, she knew she should not stand too close to him lest he burn her with the fire he harbored in his eyes.
“Brazen and shameless. That foul tongue will land you in trouble,” his voice hardened ruthlessly.
“In more trouble than you have landed my family in, Your Grace? I highly doubt it,” she spoke with light bitterness.
Rhysand raised a dark brow, peering at her with surprise and curiosity. The sheer audacity of her to walk into his home and speak to him in that manner! She bit her lower lip, forcing the dimples in her cheeks to deepen far more than they did when she spoke. He took note of this.
Penny took the duke’s silence as a sign to continue speaking.
“You ruined my family on a whim, and now my sister and I suffer daily with no male protection!” Her chest heaved, and his eyes caught the movement.
“I can assure you; I never do anything on a whim, and your father’s punishment was due after years of reasoning and proper calculations. Justice was served,” he said tersely.
“My father never did anything wrong! Did you forget that you and my brother were friends once? How could you do this?” At this, Rhysand leaned dangerously close to her to make sure she heard clearly what he was about to say.
“I do not have friends, Miss Hislop, and you will do well to remember that,” he pulled away. “Your father is guilty of those crimes and many more. Now, if that is all, I suggest you take your leave. I have more pressing matters I must attend to,” he turned away. One step forward, and he heard a thud. He whipped his head so fast he feared he broke a bone in his neck, and his lips fell into a flat line at the sight.
Penny fell to the floor on her knees. She had wanted to keep her dignity, to show him that she had a fire in her that he could not quench no matter what, but he simply did not care. He saw her father as a criminal, and it seemed nothing could change his mind from that prospect. She wondered what her father could have done to the duke that made him plan his ruin for all these years.
“Please,” her voice broke as her vision blurred. “Patrick abandoned Lydia and me. He fled with what money was left, and I have strived to make ends meet with everything I could. We are out of funds, food, and every basic necessity.”
His brows drew together in an angry frown. Throughout all his years as an acquaintance of Patrick Hislop, he had known him to be far from bright, but taking off and leaving his sisters with no protection to save himself was the height of cowardice, and it repulsed him. He watched her lips quiver, and his frown intensified.
“My sister, Lydia, is about to step into society, but I fear a hope for a plausible match is out of the way because of our situation. I would not have come here… to you, Your Grace, if we were not in dire need of help…”
The duke’s brows shot up in obvious amusement as he peered down at her.
“Pray tell, why would I go out of my way to help you or your sister?” A drop of water emerged from his hair and dropped to the floor. Penny stared at it like it was something of great importance. Then she swallowed and looked up at him, full of angry determination.
“Your Grace, I am willing to do whatever it takes for Lydia to marry well and escape this miserable life. I made a promise to her, and I must follow through with it.”
Sudden interest in the lady before him flowed throughout his body at her words. “Your Grace, I am willing to do whatever it takes.”
Such bold and unbecoming words from a lady. Unconsciously, the talk he had with his uncle the day before danced at the forefront of his mind and sparked him with an idea.
“Whatever it takes, you say?” He took a step forward.
“Yes,” she replied with a step backward. They continued this dance until her heels hit a hard surface, and there was nowhere to run to. The duke did not stop at this; he closed the distance between them, pressing the hardness of his body softly against hers. Her cheeks flushed immediately, and alarms set off in her head.
Suddenly, the air became incredibly warm, too warm, and her dress felt bothersome and constricting. Unintentionally, her gloved hand went to rest above her quickening heartbeat. The duke’s gaze had followed her hand to her chest, but his eyes rose to hers. His fingers, which were still hovering over her face, reached out and softly began to stroke her jaw.
Penelope’s heart was racing with a mixture of emotions as she felt heat spike through her body. His gaze was full of heat, attention, like a predator stalking its prey. She suddenly wondered what exactly it was that she had gotten herself into.
“What are you doing, Your Grace?” Her voice expressed her shock and anger. Did he think she was a lightskirt or on her way to becoming one all because she asked for his help? She raised her neck from his exposed chest, keeping her gaze on his face, and then she parted her lips to tell him to kill whatever thought of impropriety he envisioned, but he beat her to it.
“I have just the proposition, but can you handle it?” He was teasing her. The duke was trying to scare her away, but she had already made the promise to leave only after she had secured help from him.
“Try me, Your Grace.”
His arched brow indicated his humorous astonishment at her boldness.
“I will make sure that your sister is happily married to a fine gentleman before the end of the Season…” he watched her brown orbs widen. “… if you agree to marry me and give me an heir.”
A breath Penny did not know she had been holding exited through her mouth, and her brows creased. She had always dreamed of marrying for love but this? Marrying the very man who put her father in prison was beyond absurd.
“Are you in jest, Your Grace?”
He smirked at her question. “I do not possess the time nor patience to jest, Miss Hislop.”
“Surely you jest, Your Grace, for I fail to believe that a sane man would make such a proposal to a lady whose family he ruined.”
“How do you dare to call me insane?” His words were harsh, but his eyes were far from it. They were amused. Penny went silent. “I will take your lack of response as your refusal to heed my proposition, then?”
Penny did not reply, blink, or breathe. She pressed her back further against the wall. But with nowhere to go, the duke only leaned in closer, his head dipping to the curve of her neck, right above where his hand rested. She was too focused on the smell of him—fresh and oh-so masculine. How improper of her. But she was not to be blamed for he did cage her between his large body.
“I must say, it is too bad. For I thought your bravery was a part of you and not the cause of your nerves,” his voice was low as his lips placed soft kisses on her neckline.
“Accepting my proposal…” he raised his hand and settled it on her neck, his long fingers tracing a vein at the side of her neck. Slow and temptingly vile. “Will pull your family out of ruin and secure a match for your dear, dear sister…” It was as though every functioning nerve in her body was attuned to him, to his touch. A droplet of water from his hair fell to her face. It seemed to wake her.
“It is an absurd proposition, Your Grace. You do not know me, neither do I you, besides your reputation, for it precedes you.” At the mention of his reputation, or perhaps it was her notion that he wanted to court her, Rhysand’s jaw ticked.
“I assure you, Miss Hislop, that this proposal is not one in search of love or romance. It is strictly business. I am incapable of love, so I will pay no mind to you as long as you provide me with an heir. And when it is confirmed you are with child, you will have a house of your own, where you will live at your will as the duchess. You shall not lack a thing.”
Penny heard the words and registered them in her head and heart, but by God, he was too close. He had leaned toward her again, and she feared their lips would touch if she all but spoke.
“So, what is it going to be?” The duke probed and sunk his head to the crook of her neck. Heat spread through her body, followed by a stillness when his lips parted and nibbled on her flesh.
“I… all right,” she gasped as he continued kissing her.
Suddenly, the duke’s lips left her neck, his eyes blazing as he looked at her.
“Say it,” he commanded softly as he held her tightly against him.
Penelope moistened her lips. As she did so, the duke’s burning gaze pierced her, silently demanding her to obey.
“I will marry you.”
“I thought we would come to an agreement.”
Gently, he let her go and stepped back. He ran a hand through his dark hair and fixed his coat as he eyed her possessively.
“Now, let us begin.”