To Capture a Duke's Heart Page 4

  She smelled like flowers, Gabriel noted. Lavender, perhaps, or maybe it was violets; he wasn’t entirely certain. He inhaled another slow, deep breath, noting another scent intermingled with the floral aroma. Vanilla perhaps? The fragrance wasn’t overpowering like so many others he’d smelled before, but soft and subtle; a pleasing bouquet that delighted rather than assaulted his senses.

  After a moment his gaze drifted ever so slowly to the side, alighting briefly on the striking auburn tendrils that trailed down the back of her neck, settling for a time upon her exquisite profile and then falling to the gentle slope of her naked shoulder and to the smooth ivory skin revealed by the sophisticated cut of her gown. Moving lower still, his eyes fell unerringly upon her décolletage and to her lush, full breasts, the enticing swells pressing decadently against the gown’s tightly-fitted bodice. He swallowed hard, feeling the basest of male instincts spark within him, a fierce and undeniable surge of arousal that flared hotly within his loins, only to spread swiftly throughout the remainder of his body.

  Damn it, Gabe! What the devil’s gotten into you? he silently cursed, shifting uncomfortably upon the balls of his feet as he tried to ignore the sudden, unmistakable pressure straining against the front of his trousers. You’re lusting over an innocent, for God’s sake, his brain cautioned as he fought to suppress the unwelcome rush of desire flowing within his veins. Yes, Penelope Houghton was a rare beauty to be sure, but he’d set eyes on scores of beautiful women over the years, bedded his fair share of them too. So, for a man who prided himself on his emotional, as well as his physical, self-control, his reaction to the innocent, young miss standing next to him was both shocking and vastly unsettling. Be that as it may, it took a concerted effort to tear his gaze from the enticing vision standing next to him and return it to the front of the room.

  For the next several minutes Gabriel and Penny stood silently in their places with their eyes trained dutifully forward as Eleanor’s ethereal voice filled the room with the sweetest of melodies, while Eugenia’s fingers danced effortlessly atop the piano keys. Even so there remained an almost tangible sense of awareness between them, a stirring, visceral consciousness of the other’s presence. It remained as such until the song came to an end and they raised their hands, adding their applause to the others in appreciation of the sisters’ talents.

  “They’re quite talented, are they not,” Penny remarked, turning to the duke with a polite smile. Though her heart was racing, she forced herself to appear composed as he shifted his green-eyed gaze to her.

  “Indeed, they are,” he replied. “And I cannot tell you how refreshing it is to be able to say those words and actually mean them,” he added with a playful grin.

  Caught off guard by the frankness of his reply, Penny raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle, for she couldn’t count the number of times she’d thought that very same thing herself.

  “Not a very gentlemanly thing to admit is it?” he asked, his expression charmingly abashed.

  “It certainly is not, Your Grace,” Penny acknowledged with a shy, answering grin as she felt herself slowly begin to relax. “Just as it is decidedly unladylike of me to admit to having had that very same thought on occasion,” she continued in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. Much as she had construed from her observations at dinner, the duke seemed to have a pleasant, unassuming ease about him, a remarkable trait for a man who held one of the most elevated titles in England, and one that made her feel almost as if she were speaking with a friend rather than a mere acquaintance.

  The duke chuckled at her response, causing a couple of older gentlemen seated nearby to swivel their heads in his direction. Raising a quick hand to his mouth he made it appear as if he’d simply been clearing his throat, and a moment later the pair turned back around.

  Biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning at his clever subterfuge, Penny glanced briefly toward the front of the room, noting that Eugenia had risen from the piano bench to stand at her sister’s side, while Lady Gilchrist was preparing to take her daughter’s place at the keys.

  Noting the line of her gaze, the duke asked, “Do you play, Lady Penelope?”

  She met his curious gaze with a slight, sheepish smile. “My skill at the piano is passable at best, I’m afraid,” she answered truthfully. “And regrettably my singing voice isn’t much better.”

  Her honest response caught Gabriel pleasantly by surprise, for in his experience women, especially those who moved within the ton’s supercilious ranks, were rarely willing to acknowledge what might be perceived as even the slightest of shortcomings. “Would you believe,” he replied with a winsome smile, “that you and I have two things in common then?”

  She smiled back. “Truly?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  She appeared to study him for a moment then, her gaze speculative. “Are you perhaps proficient with a watercolor brush, embroidery needle or gardening trowel, Your Grace?”

  “Alas, no,” he replied, shaking his head with exaggerated regret, “I can’t say that I am.”

  Lady Penelope angled her head to the side and uttered a melodramatic sigh. “Well then, I suppose that makes five things we have in common.”

  Gabriel quirked an amused brow, charmed by her artlessness. “Indeed?”

  She shrugged good-naturedly. “Unfortunately I was graced with very little talent in regard to the traditional pursuits favored by the majority of my female counterparts.”

  Heaven help him, but he was becoming increasingly enchanted with the delightfully unaffected miss by the second. “On the contrary, Lady Penelope, I do not think that it is unfortunate at all.”

  “No?”

  “No. In fact, I am suddenly reminded of a quote I once read. It was a Latin citation, Saepe summa ingenia in occult latent, if I recall it correctly.”

  “Plautus,” she replied with a smile. “The greatest talents often lie buried out of sight.”

  Gabriel blinked in surprise; and indeed they did it seemed. “You speak Latin?”

  “I’ve an affinity for languages. It’s a trait my father and I share.”

  “How many languages do you speak?” he asked curiously.

  “Five fluently,” she informed him. “A few others, passably well.”

  Gabriel was impressed. “How truly remarkable,” he stated with sincerity. “And especially, as you have just proven Plautus to be entirely correct.”

  Smiling graciously at the unexpected compliment, Penny felt her heart give a tiny little leap, for the duke seemed genuinely interested in their conversation and not the least bit put off by her lack of conventional feminine accomplishments; his apparent lack of prejudice only adding to his already overwhelming appeal.

  “Tell me, Lady Penelope, what other hidden talents do you possess?” he asked her then. “For I can only assume that there are more than a few nontraditional pursuits at which you excel?”

  As it turned out, Lady Penelope didn’t have the opportunity to answer his question, for just then Lady Gilchrist set her hands to the piano keys and the sound of music filled the room once again.

  “Another time, perhaps,” he said quietly, as they both returned their attention respectfully to the front of the room.

  As the recital eventually came to its end, Penny hoped that she might have the opportunity to continue her conversation with the duke, but as the guests bestowed their final round of applause and began to rise from their seats, she noted her stepmother moving purposefully in their direction; and within moments she was upon them.

  “Penelope, dear, I wondered where you’d disappeared to,” Maryanne remarked as she approached, a sugary sweet smile dripping from her rouged lips. “Whatever were you doing hiding back here in the corner?”

  “I wasn’t hiding.” Penny replied evenly. “I merely had to make a slight repair to my gown and arrived just as the performance was about to begin; and as the majority of the seats were already taken, I chose to watch from here.”

  “I see.” M
aryanne turned to the duke then. “You arrived late as well, Your Grace?”

  “Alas, I stepped outside for a breath of air prior to the performance and remained overlong, I’m afraid.”

  “How fortunate for Penelope then, to have been spared from standing in the corner all alone.”

  “Actually, Lady Beckford, it was I who proved most fortunate, for your charming stepdaughter proved to be excellent company,” the duke replied emphatically.

  “How nice,” Maryanne replied as she glanced between Penny and the duke, her taut smile clearly forced. “And you enjoyed the recital, I trust?”

  “I did indeed,” the duke replied with an affirmative nod.

  “The Cunninghams are quite fortunate to be blessed with daughters who possess such lovely singing voices; and how proud Lord Danbury must be,” she continued, “with his betrothed possessing such remarkable skill at the piano as well.”

  The duke smiled agreeably. “Philip is a fortunate man.”

  “Yes, he certainly is.” Maryanne concurred. “Sadly, however, I cannot say the same for Penelope’s future husband,” she continued with a tinkling, artificial laugh as she tapped Penny lightly upon her arm with the end of her closed fan, “for her vocal abilities are quite unexceptional, as are her musical talents.”

  Appalled that her stepmother would utter such a tactless criticism in front of the duke, Penny stiffened, her mood quickly souring.

  “Now, now, don’t frown so, Penelope,” Maryanne chided teasingly. “Not everyone is fortunate enough to be blessed with such talent. Besides, with the size of your dowry I’m certain that there will be a number of gentlemen more than willing to overlook whatever shortcomings you may have,” she added with a saccharine smile.

  “Though I would hardly consider Lady Penelope’s musical ability, or lack thereof, a shortcoming,” the duke interjected, his tone reflecting a note of censure, “I haven’t the slightest doubt that her extraordinary beauty, enchanting personality and beguiling wit shall have every young buck in London clamoring for her attention this coming Season, as they assuredly would even if she hadn’t a single shilling to her name,” he avowed, turning to Penny with an encouraging smile.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Penny replied graciously, secretly delighting in the flash of displeasure that sparked within her stepmother’s eyes. “Only time will tell I suppose, but you are very kind to say so.”

  “I assure you, Lady Penelope, that it is not kindness, but the unqualified truth,” he replied gallantly.

  “Yes, you’re quite right, of course, Your Grace,” Maryanne quickly agreed with an air of exaggerated enthusiasm. “Penelope is certainly not without her redeeming qualities. In fact, the earl and I have little doubt that her first Season is going to be a smashing success.”

  Unimpressed by her stepmother’s immediate about face and blatant insincerity, Penny was tempted to emit a verbal guffaw, but managed to resist the impulse.

  “You must be looking forward to your debut, Lady Penelope,” the duke remarked, “with the start of the Season just around the corner.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” she responded. Apparently her tone lacked the proper degree of excitement, however, for the duke cocked his head, eyeing her curiously.

  “Well I for one can hardly wait until the opening of the Season and our return to London,” Maryanne proclaimed, “for I have always found country life to be a dreadful bore.”

  The duke regarded her stepmother with a bland expression. “Yes, I imagine that you would.”

  Though Maryanne seemed completely oblivious, Penny didn’t miss the air of derision in the duke’s tone and mentally applauded; for clearly he wasn’t the type of man her exceedingly vain stepmother could win over with little more than a beguiling smile and the playful batting of her eyelashes.

  “Penelope, dear,” Maryanne said then, casting a quick glance about the room, “I believe I saw Eleanor just over there a moment ago.” She waved her hand, motioning to an indiscriminate part of the room. “You really should go and tell her how much you enjoyed the performance.”

  Penny understood that she was being dismissed; undoubtedly so that Maryanne could practice her flirtations upon the duke without an audience. Nevertheless, she replied politely to her stepmother. “Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace,” she said then, offering the duke a polite nod.

  He smiled, returning the gesture. “Of course.”

  Walking away, Penny consoled herself with the knowledge that Maryanne’s flirtations were likely to prove futile, as the Duke of Ainsworth seemed impervious to her stepmother’s charms.

  “If you will excuse me, Lady Beckford,” Gabriel said as Penelope moved away, “I’m afraid that I must take my leave as well, for I’ve a need to speak with my brother.” Though in truth he was simply eager to distance himself from the bothersome woman, for implausible as it might seem, she had managed to fall even further in his estimation over the course of the past several minutes.

  Lamentably, his leave-taking was arrested, however, as the countess laid a pale, manicured hand upon the sleeve of his black dinner jacket. “Surely you needn’t rush off, Your Grace,” she murmured with a playful pout, “for I have been hoping for the opportunity for us to speak… privately.”

  “Lady Beckford,” he frowned, “I hardly think that’s necessary.”

  “Hmm, perhaps not.” She took a step closer, her lips curving into a catlike smile. “For if I were to join you in your chamber later this evening, I assure you we needn’t speak at all.”

  Gabriel frowned, his expression austere. “I don’t think so,” he replied, looking pointedly at the hand resting upon his arm.

  Though she slowly withdrew her hand, her manner was undeterred. “If it’s my husband you’re concerned about, you needn’t worry,” she stated in a throaty whisper. “He’s a very sound sleeper.”

  Hells bells, he thought irritably, why couldn’t the blasted woman get it through her head that he wasn’t interested? Perhaps he simply needed to be more direct. And so he said, “Though I have never made a habit of bedding other men’s wives, Lady Beckford, I can assure you that the earl has nothing to do with my decision.”

  The countess blinked, eyeing him in sudden uncertainty.

  Oh for God’s sake, he thought, groaning internally; and though it went against his nature to be deliberately unkind, he realized that he was going to have to make an exception. “I fear that I shall have to speak candidly, Lady Beckford, so that there remains no further misunderstanding between us, now or in the future,” he began, his expression uncompromising. “You do not interest me, just as your offer does not interest me. Neither interested me before, neither interests me now and I guarantee you that neither will have even the slightest interest to me in the future.”

  The countess regarded him through narrowing eyes as her mouth drew into a thin, taut line.

  “I trust that I have made myself clear, then?”

  For a moment Lady Beckford appeared as if she had just sucked upon a lemon. Then, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders she replied caustically, “Indeed, Your Grace, you have made yourself abundantly clear.”

  And with that, and to his utmost relief, Lady Beckford abruptly turned and marched stiffly in the opposite direction.

  “Dare I ask?” Rafael asked with a knowing smirk as he came up next to Gabriel a few seconds later.

  Gabriel eyed his brother humorlessly. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  Rafael chuckled as his gaze followed Lady Beckford as she weaved her way through the milling crowd. “Perhaps you should simply take the countess up on her offer and be done with it.”

  “Trust me, Rafe, if I’ve ever a need for your advice in such matters,” he replied sardonically, “I shall be sure to ask for it.”

  Rafael shrugged good-naturedly as he turned his laughing gaze back to his brother. “It was merely a suggestion.”

  “It hardly signifies in any event; as I am confident that I have finally convi
nced the countess that she would be best served to seek her illicit pleasures with someone other than myself.”

  “Did you?” Rafael remarked, his eyes alight with curiosity. “And how did that go over with the tenacious Lady Beckford, pray tell?”

  Gabriel grimaced. “About as well as you might imagine.”

  Rafael waggled his eyebrows. “You do know what they say about a woman scorned, don’t you?”

  Hell hath no fury. “I’m familiar with the expression, yes.” Even so, he wasn’t particularly concerned; for he doubted that a woman as one-dimensional as Maryanne Houghton would pose any sort of threat to his wellbeing. Besides, in all likelihood the countess would find herself a far more accommodating gentleman to assuage her bruised ego soon enough.

  “Come on then,” Rafael said, slapping his hand affectionately against the back of his brother’s shoulder. “I’d say that this calls for a drink. Let’s go and see if Gilchrist has any of that fine Kentucky bourbon he imported from the States left in his study.”

  Gabriel grinned. “Now that is a suggestion to which I will gladly agree.”

  Chapter 4

  As Penny made her way to breakfast the following morning she felt a marked sense of anticipation, for she could hardly deny that she was eager to see the Duke of Ainsworth once again and secretly hoped that they might continue their conversation of the night before. As such, she’d taken extra care with her appearance, donning one of her new gowns, a lovely silk eolienne creation in a pale shade of apple green, adjusting her upswept curls so that a few, thick auburn ringlets hung loose to drape softly across the front of her right shoulder and then applying just the barest hint of rouge to brighten her lips and cheeks.