Chapter 3
Penelope discreetly straightened her skirt as she stuck close behind the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore. She recognized most of the faces but wished she had done a better job remembering their names.
Thankfully, however, it appeared that her chaperone for tonight had impeccable memory, so all Penelope had to do was wait for her to say the other guest’s name or title before she also chimed in to the conversation.
As the dowager duchess reminisced with the Pembrokehams about how they had run into each other on a past trip to Saint Leys, Penelope felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
“Rebecca?” she exclaimed upon turning around.
“Penny!” her friend squealed in return, pulling her in for a tight hug.
Excusing herself from the group, Penelope accompanied Rebecca to an empty table—still making sure to stay near to the dowager duchess.
“How are your girls?” Penelope smiled, gently stroking Rebecca’s hand. “In your last letter, you mentioned getting them a new governess.”
“Yes, they absolutely love her now.” Rebecca chuckled. “I meant to write you to ask if you were coming tonight, but seeing the state that Lady Punton was in during the funeral, I presumed it would be rather unlikely.”
“You still know me so well.” Penelope chuckled. “I really had no intentions of attending, but Her Grace suggested it would be a good idea. Besides...”
“Besides?”
Penelope hesitantly chewed her lip. While it was true that she and Rebecca had known each other since they were children, it was still quite embarrassing to reveal her plan.
But as she gazed into Rebecca’s kind eyes, Penelope realized that being able to speak to someone about the plan would offer her some respite.
“I’m... here to look for some prospects,” she admitted, looking down at their hands.
“What?” Rebecca gasped, “but you swore you’d never get married!”
“I don’t have a choice,” Penelope grimaced, going on to explain her and Mother’s suffering at the hands of Uncle Winston.
“Pen, why didn’t you mention this in your letters?” her friend asked, mortified. “There’s no way you’re staying with that wretched creature any longer. Both of my parents-in-law are presently staying with us so it will be a bit cramped, but I can speak to William about putting you and Lady Punton up at our countryside manor at least-”
“Thank you, Rebecca,” Penelope smiled, “but there’s no need, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore graciously offered to let us stay with her for the rest of the Season right here in London. Besides, I don’t even want to think of what my uncle would do if he found out that we were staying somewhere other than where he had allowed us to.”
Rebecca’s expression changed yet again. This time she was the one chewing her lip hesitantly.
“What?”
Rebecca looked around to see that no one was within earshot, “I know your parents have always been close to the Blackmoores, but if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t reveal this new accommodation arrangement so freely, Pen.”
Her friend leaned close, “For you see, we were never introduced to him when we were children, but the present Duke of Blackmoore is-”
“A no-good rakish bastard?” Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I had the pleasure of discovering that for myself earlier today.”
Rebecca’s eyes grew even wider. “You mean... he’s presently staying at Blackmoore Manor as well? But I’ve always heard he has a separate townhouse—you know, for his... exploits.”
Penelope shuddered upon hearing this. “The dowager duchess mentioned that it’s currently being renovated. So, he’s staying at Blackmoore in the meantime.”
“Then you must be extremely careful, Pen,” Rebecca urged her. “He’s a ruiner of reputations with no limits to his depravity.”
“Goodness,” Penelope shook her head, “and with such an angelic face too.”
“It’s his most effective weapon.” Her friend nodded seriously, “besides his powers of smooth talking.”
“Don’t worry,” Penelope assured her, “men of his sort hardly spend any time at home anyway, which means my other problem is far more pressing.”
“Indeed...” her friend sighed, “if I wasn’t so busy with my in-laws and the children, I would be helping you in your search every day, Pen. But I’m afraid my domestic responsibilities are just so-”
Penelope squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Rebecca. You have more than enough on your plate as it is. I shall find a way to take care of it.” She nodded toward the other guests in the room. “But if you still want to help, perhaps you could direct me to some good prospects while we’re here.” Rebecca raised a mischievous eyebrow as she scanned the other guests in the room, “Admittedly, I’ve been out of the loop since my last pregnancy but- Ah! I know for a fact that the Earl of Willowdale is available! A very kind gentleman, I believe he’s about twenty-and-seven, with strong connections in the navy.”
Penelope followed Rebecca’s line of gaze, which led to a smiling gentleman on the other side of the room, who was engaged in a lively conversation with the Viscount of Ivybridge.
“Handsome too, yes?” Rebecca giggled. “The dowager duchess and I can introduce you two.”
Penelope’s heartbeat quickened. “Oh, but with prospects like that, he’d certainly be interested in fresher debutantes. Isn’t there anyone with a little less competition? I just need to get engaged and married as quickly as possible.”
Rebecca lightly tapped her chin. “In that case... you won’t mind someone who’s... say, a widower, for example?”
“Of course not!” Penelope smiled, reiterating, “I just need to get Mother and me as far away from him as possible.”
“In that case, what about the Viscount Gloushire?” Her friend’s face lit up. “He’s kind, and patient, I think you’d get along splendidly.”
Penelope swallowed, “I trust your intuition, Rebecca.”
“Fantastic!” squealed her companion. “Wait right here and I’ll go find him!”
As her friend separated from her, Penelope’s leg started bouncing up and down of its own accord. She placed a hand on her knee in a futile attempt to stop it.
It’s just an introduction. Penelope silently chastised her leg. There's absolutely no need to be so nervous. However, despite knowing this, she couldn’t seem to get her leg or her heartbeat under control.
It had been years since she had last spoken to a gentleman as a potential suitor. And now Rebecca has suddenly decided to set this on her out of the blue.
Small talk, warm smiles, and other pleasantries. Penelope assured herself, That’s it. There’s nothing to be so worried about now. It’ll be all right. But the longer she waited, the greater her nerves grew. Unable to bear it for a second longer, she rose from her chair and marched herself out of the ballroom.
No doubt, she must have drawn some attention from the other guests as she did so, but she didn’t care. She simply allowed her restless feet to carry her.
Eventually, she found herself standing in the manor’s garden, the night breeze soothing her cheeks. At twenty-and-five years old, Penelope had already made peace with her standing as a spinster.
So having to suddenly dive back into the search for a husband was proving more formidable of a challenge than she had initially realized.
She paced around the garden, a part of her wondering whether the chirping crickets around her understood her plight.
But she quickly realized that the crickets weren’t the only thing she could hear. Besides them and the faint music coming from within the house, she could hear... giggling?
She followed the sound. But just as she rounded the corner, she was forced to immediately step back.
Did they see me?
The unceasing giggling and hushed voices told her no.
Carefully, she peeked around the corner.
“I said good night , Lady Jane,” the exasperated Duke of Blackmoore snarled.
Presently, he stood with his back flat against the house’s east face as the woman he called Lady Jane blocked his path.
“So impatient, Your Grace.” She placed a hand on his chest. “You’re fortunate I’m not so easily offended.”
“Please take all the offense possible if it’ll finally get you out of my way,” he drily returned.
Penelope felt the urge to rub her eyes in case she wasn’t seeing clearly. Was the notorious rake before her actually rejecting an opportunity for depravity?
This Jane is practically offering herself up on a silver platter, so why wouldn't he-
Her eyes widened in realization.
She looked over her shoulder to be doubly sure that no one else had arrived yet. Despite the fact that she was standing up, once again, her leg began to bounce nervously.
Come on, Your Grace, save yourself. Don’t make me do this.
But when she returned her attention to them, Lady Jane was attempting to lay her head on the duke’s chest, who in turn was frantically attempting to pry her off of him—a task that was especially challenging as he was apparently trying to do so without hurting her too much.
Penelope groaned to herself.
Looks like I shall have to step in after all.
With a deep breath, she rounded the corner and feigned surprise. “Oh! I’m very sorry to interrupt, but by any chance have any of you noticed my snuffbox? I believe I dropped it somewhere here earlier.”
Two bewildered heads looked her up and down.
“We didn’t see anything,” scorned Lady Jane. “Now if you’ll excuse us-”
“But of course!” Penelope held up both hands in defeat. Adding as she turned to go, “Oh, Mother’s going to be so upset I lost another- Ouch!” she yelped, throwing herself to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” the duke called out, still pinned to the wall.
“My ankle!” Penelope pretended to cradle her foot, before pointing to the other woman. “Help me get to the powder room, quickly!”
“Why?” Lady Jane scoffed. “Your clumsiness is no fault of mine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have tripped, if you hadn’t abruptly shooed me away.” Penelope tutted, before pretending to cry out in pain once more.
The other woman scanned their surroundings expectantly—her movements confirming what Penelope had already suspected: Lady Jane had been hoping to get caught with the Duke of Blackmoore.
But why?
Growing visibly more irritated at Penelope’s pleas for help, Lady Jane begrudgingly helped Penelope up and supported her as they slowly made their way into the house.
Annoyed at her newfound companion’s slyness, Penelope made sure to put all her weight on the other woman’s shoulders.
After all, she didn’t care for the duke, but he was clearly innocent in this case. So, she felt justified in her endeavors to get a rise out of his would-be framer.
As they turned to leave, Penelope locked eyes with the duke one more time. Initially, he appeared confused—maybe even concerned, but when she gave him a reassuring nod, the corners of his mouth turned upwards.
He mouthed a thank you and she felt the urge to roll her eyes, after all, what use was his gratitude to her at this moment?
But thinking that he’d suffered more than enough tonight, Penelope settled on returning his thanks with a discreet smile. When they finally arrived at the powder room, Penelope thanked Lady Jane and asked if she could find one of the servants for her.
To Penelope’s surprise, she actually did so before disappearing into the sea of guests. With the servant’s help, Penelope was able to inform the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoore of her present whereabouts.
“Oh, you poor thing!” her chaperone exclaimed, barging into the powder room. “What happened?”
Penelope lowered her gaze. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I wasn’t feeling well and attempted to get some fresh air, and well...” she gestured to her foot.
“I’m so very sorry, pet,” the older woman exclaimed. “It’s no wonder you felt out of sorts, what with it being so soon after your father’s passing.”
Although that was far from the reason Penelope had become overwhelmed, she held her tongue anyway as it was also far less embarrassing than the truth.
“Can you stand? We’ll go straight home and find you a doctor, pet,” the dowager duchess kindly offered.
A pang of guilt struck Penelope—it didn’t seem right that her fake injury should prevent the dowager duchess from enjoying the rest of the ball.
“That won’t be necessary, Your Grace,” Penelope assured her. “I believe I just twisted it. But as long as I keep off my feet, it should be manageable for the rest of the evening.”
“Are you sure?” the dowager duchess gasped. “Because there’s no need to bear it for-”
“I’m very sure, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled, unable to add that she wasn’t ‘bearing’ anything at all given that she was simply feigning her injury.
To Penelope’s chagrin, she would have to lie to quite a few more people, such as the servants who brought ice for her ankle, the Duchess of Ashfordshire—who felt awful that one of her guests was injured, and any other sympathetic faces that drifted in and out of the powder room.
After what felt like an eternity—but in reality, it was probably closer to an hour or so—Penelope managed to convince the dowager duchess that she was ready to return to their table.
With assistance from the servants, Penelope and her chaperone were escorted to their seats. This time, Penelope made sure to not limp as heavily, thus giving the impression that her foot really was doing much better.
After ten minutes of nodding back at the sympathetic glances being thrown her way, the root of her predicament strolled up to her.
“Lady Penelope,” the Duke of Blackmoore raised an eyebrow, “may I have this dance?”
The dowager duchess smacked her son’s hand away. “Duncan! Stop taunting Lady Penelope about her injury.”
“But I’m not teasing, Mother.” Evidently perplexed at her assumption, “I really do wish to dance with her. Based on how she walked to her chair earlier, she’ll be able to manage this song—it’s rather laidback.”
The dowager duchess exhaled deeply, “Duncan, I don't know what’s gotten into you today but-”
“He’s right, Your Grace.” Penelope placed a hand on her chaperone’s arm, “I should be able to manage.”
Naturally, Penelope suspected that His Grace was always up to something. But after the most boring hour of pretending to nurse an injured ankle, Penelope decided the risk was worth it so she could satisfy her curiosity.
“As long as you’re certain, pet,” the dowager duchess finally acquiesced. “But be very careful about your injury.” Turning to her son, she warned, “And that goes double for you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Taking his hand, Penelope followed him towards the other dancers on the ballroom floor and took their places.
“I wanted to thank you,” he cleared his throat, “for your help with Lady Jane earlier.”
Penelope raised an eyebrow amusedly. “You’re welcome, Your Grace.”
“About a minute or so after you two left me, Lords Shawstead and Ponstonbrooke emerged as they ‘just so happened’ to be taking a leisurely stroll with a journalist from the Daybreak Chronicler,” the duke explained.
Penelope sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. “Oh dear, if someone hadn’t arrived in time to pry Lady Jane off of you, then one imagines that tomorrow’s headline would have been quite devastating for you.”
He smiled at her, but somehow this smile was different than the ones he had thrown her way back at Blackmoore Manor. In fact, it appeared his entire demeanor towards her had shifted since then.
“I had the situation well under control.”
Penelope flashed him a look, prompting him to add, “Although I suppose I underestimated how quickly those snakes were going to arrive.”
“Exactly.” Penelope lifted her chin triumphantly, “But if you don’t mind me asking, Your Grace, what did you do to deserve such extreme measures being taken against you?”
“Who says I deserve any measures against me at all?” He grinned, “I could be a man of honor for all you know.”
She snorted, “Please, Your Grace. A lady can’t guffaw in public.”
“What? It’s true!” His grip on her waist tightened. “You just haven’t had the chance to know-”
But he gave up halfway through his sentence upon seeing Penelope wipe a tear of laughter from her eye.
“I’m not as young as the other debutantes you toy with,” she reminded him, “so I’m not so easily deceived, Your Grace.”
“There you go again acting as though you know me,” the duke smirked. “But can I let you in on a secret?”’
“What is it?” She apprehensively raised an eyebrow.
He leaned close, so close that his breath tickled her ear. “If I was toying with you, I can wholeheartedly assure you that we’d be... elsewhere by now.”
The blood rushed to her face, but Penelope was not backing down so easily. “Then I suppose I should let you in on a secret too, Your Grace.”
She nodded for him to come closer once more. “You’re not the only wolf in sheep’s clothing here.”
He straightened up with an amused but somewhat skeptical expression. “A bold claim, Lady Penelope. But though you may not be a sheep, I highly doubt you’re a wolf.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She furrowed her eyebrows.
“You clearly dislike me but still helped me out earlier, didn’t you?” he reminded her. “Face it, Lady Penelope, you may not be a sheep, but you’re no wolf either.”
Penelope scoffed, “Such a bold assumption, perhaps I merely took pity on yo-"
Completely ignoring this remark, he cut her off. “I’d say you’re more comparable to a deer? No! A fox in sheep’s clothing.”
“A fox?” she exclaimed incredulously.
“Yes, not nearly as powerful or ferocious as a wolf, but still quite perceptive and shrewd in their own right.” He chuckled. “See? You even have the reddish-brown hair to go with it.”
“I’m afraid that you’re taking my use of the old adage a tad too literally, Your Grace.” She drily added, “I was simply reminding your smug, self-assured self that you will not always succeed in misleading people. There are those of us who see right through you.”
“You think you see through me,” he retorted, giving her a prime example of the very self-assured smugness she had mentioned.
But before she could express her irritation, he cleared his throat and added, “At any rate, regardless of what you really think about me,” he met her gaze, “the fact remains that I am now indebted to you.”
Penelope blinked at this. After all, who would expect a self-centered rake to actually appreciate those around him?
“Ordinarily, I would say there was no need to repay me. But given your talents in particular areas,” she thought out loud, “I can think of the perfect way you can pay me back.” She smiled.
“How’s that?”
“Later,” she drily answered. “I’d prefer we discuss it away from the sea of prying eyes and ears we are currently swimming in.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Given your reticence, I can’t help but wonder if it turns out even you couldn’t resist my charms and begui- Ouch!” he yelped, shaking his foot out.
“Oops.” Penelope smiled innocently. “Watch your step, Your Grace.”