To Capture a Duke's Heart Page 6

  With a chuckle, Rafael sat back in his chair. “You may as well admit it, Gabe.”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you’re smitten with the girl.”

  Gabriel sat back in his own chair. “Smitten? Be serious, I barely know her,” he scoffed.

  “True, but you’d like to get to know her a far sight better, I think.”

  “Oh, you think so do you?”

  “I did.” Rafael grinned smugly. “But now I know so.”

  “Humph,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. Damn, was he really so transparent? Then, silently lamenting his parent’s decision to have more than one child, Gabriel shook his head, sighing in exasperation. “So all of that,” he said with a wave of his hand, “was merely an attempt to provoke me? Is that it?”

  Rafael’s grin merely widened as he reached for the last remaining tart on his now empty plate. And then, with a roguish wink he popped it into his mouth.

  Chapter 5

  Later that morning, Penny stood beside Eleanor on the Cunningham’s rear lawn, watching as the weighted ball she’d just rolled travelled along the manicured grass, stopping just inches from the jack. Eleanor, one of her two partners, let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands in anticipation of their imminent victory while their other teammate, Lady Huxley, offered a slightly more restrained, “Well done, my dear.”

  To keep her female guests entertained whilst the gentlemen were off enjoying their hunt, Lady Gilchrist had set up a number of tables within the castle’s main drawing room for those who enjoyed playing cards, whilst those who preferred a more vigorous form of activity had been invited to partake in a game of lawn bowls. And as her stepmother had opted for cards, Penny had promptly made her way outside.

  With the teams randomly selected, each team being comprised of three players, the objective was relatively simple; to roll a colored, biased ball so that it stopped as close as possible to a smaller, white ball, referred to as the “jack” or “kitty.” Each person had three bowls, in turn, and their team would receive one point for each bowl landing closer to the jack than their opponent’s. In the end, the team with the most points awarded after three rounds was deemed the winner.

  Now, at the end of the third round, the opposing team had one final opportunity to score. However, with the placement of Penny’s ball, the possibility of Lady Hatton scoring the winning point was unlikely at best.

  A few seconds later both teams watched as Lady Hatton’s bright yellow ball rolled to a stop more than a foot behind Penny’s blue one; and with that, Penny, Eleanor and Lady Huxley were declared victorious.

  “That was such fun,” Eleanor proclaimed as they strolled across the lawn a short time later.

  Penny had to agree, for she had always enjoyed recreational activities, especially those that involved a little good-spirited competition. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Do you suppose the men are enjoying their outing?”

  “I would imagine so.” Considering the competitive nature of men, or at least a fair majority, they had doubtless turned their activity into a friendly competition as well, seeing who could bag the largest bird, the greatest number or something of the like, Penny imagined.

  Eleanor cast a glance toward the west end of the castle grounds, where the stables were located. “I should think they would be returning any time now, wouldn’t you?”

  “I suppose,” Penny remarked. “Why? Are you looking forward to the return of anyone in particular?”

  Eleanor’s head whipped back around, her cheeks flushing beneath Penny’s perceptive gaze. “Good heavens, am I that transparent?”

  “Only to me,” Penny assured her with a laughing smile. “And only because you and I know each other so well.” Though they resided in different countries and saw each other only a few times a year, she and Eleanor were surprisingly close, as they exchanged letters nearly every week and had been doing so since childhood.

  Nodding, Eleanor looped her arm through Penny’s as they continued to walk. “I know it’s silly, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Silly?”

  “To think that a man like Michael Ashcroft would ever be interested in someone like me,” Eleanor clarified.

  “Eleanor Cunningham what a ridiculous thing to say,” Penny scolded. “Why wouldn’t he be interested in someone like you? You’re pretty, intelligent, kind, multi-talented and generous to a fault; and those comprise only a small measure of the wonderful qualities you possess.”

  Eleanor cocked her head to the side, as if she were contemplating the truth of Penny’s words. “You’re right of course,” she replied a few seconds later, emitting a dramatically pretentious sigh. “I am the epitome of what every man wants in a woman.”

  Penny grinned and a moment later they were both giggling. “Lord Ashcroft doesn’t stand a chance,” she proclaimed, once they’d stopped laughing.

  “Time will tell, I suppose,” Eleanor replied, but she was smiling as she said it, her confidence clearly boosted. “At least Mother has finally convinced Papa to allow me to make my debut this year, so our paths are sure to cross in London this Season,” she stated optimistically.

  “Oh, I’m sure they will. And thank heavens for your mother’s tenacity, for I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to endure my first Season alone.” With six more weeks until Eleanor’s eighteenth birthday, her father had wanted her to wait until the following year to make her debut, but fortunately the countess had persuaded him to change his mind. His reluctance was understandable though, for with Eugenia getting married on the morrow the doting earl was clearly saddened to think that his youngest daughter might soon be leaving the nest as well.

  “Endure?” Eleanor rolled her eyes skyward. “Honestly, Penny, I wish you could manage to display a bit more excitement, for this is going to be our first Season,” she reminded her with undisguised enthusiasm, “and a rousing new adventure.”

  “An adventure?” Perhaps if she had her loving mother by her side to help guide her as she made her way into Society’s midst she would have shared more of Eleanor’s excitement, but regrettably she did not.

  “Yes, a most wondrous adventure,” Eleanor proclaimed, noting Penny’s dubious expression. “And as neither of our fathers is seeking to marry us off straightaway, we shall be able to enjoy ourselves without feeling as though we must elicit no less than a dozen marriage proposals before the Season’s end.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Penny managed a slight smile. But even though her father might not be eager to marry her off, she had little doubt that her stepmother would do everything in her power to hasten the process, likely foisting her off upon the first man who offered for her if she had her way.

  “We’re going to have a wonderful time, Penny, you’ll see.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do,” Eleanor asserted, giving Penny’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “In any event, now that we are finally alone you must tell me all about breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “I saw you when I was passing by the breakfast room this morning, seated directly between the Duke of Ainsworth and the other Lord Ashcroft.”

  “Oh that.”

  “Yes, that. Do tell?” Her expression eager, Eleanor looked as though she expected to hear something sensational.

  “There isn’t much to tell really,” Penny replied with feigned nonchalance. “We were eating our breakfast. Or rather, Lord Ashcroft and I were eating our breakfast. I believe the duke merely had coffee.” Suppressing a grin, she watched as Eleanor’s face fell, her brows drawing together in obvious disappointment.

  “Eating your breakfast?” Eleanor regarded Penny as if she couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. “Penelope Houghton, you were seated between two of the most unbelievably handsome men on the continent, mayhap the entire planet, and that is all you have to say about it?”

  Penny smiled teasingly. “Well… I suppose that isn’t all.”

>   “Tell me!”

  “Lord Ashcroft asked me to save him a dance this evening.”

  “Truly?” Eleanor’s eyes went wide as Penny nodded, her expression a curious combination of excitement and unease. “And did you agree?”

  “Of course.”

  “You do realize that Rafael Ashcroft is a known rake and possesses one of the most scandalous reputations in all of England,” she proclaimed in a hushed tone.

  Thanks to Maryanne’s obsession with all things society-related, she did; for in addition to the London newspapers, every scandal sheet, gossip rag and tattle-telling broadsheet was delivered to Colchester and then promptly forwarded to the Beckford estate in North Essex each and every week. “You needn’t worry,” Penny assured her, mimicking her friend’s hushed tone, “I accepted his dance request, not an offer to meet him for a clandestine rendezvous in the gazebo.”

  Eleanor eyed her intently, quirking one chestnut-colored brow.

  “Not that I would have accepted an offer to meet him for a clandestine rendezvous in the gazebo, if he had suggested such a thing,” Penny quickly avowed. “Which he most certainly did not.”

  Eleanor sighed dramatically. “Such an offer would prove just a wee bit tempting though, would it not?”

  “Eleanor!”

  Giggling, Eleanor raised a hand to cover her mouth and a moment later they were both struggling to contain their mirth.

  As they neared the steps leading up to the expansive rear terrace, Penny said, “There is something else, actually.”

  “What?”

  “Following Lord Ashcroft’s request, the duke asked me to save a dance for him as well.”

  Eleanor’s eyebrows nearly shot up to her hairline as her mouth fell open. “He didn’t.”

  Penny nodded, and though she did try, it was difficult to keep the true measure of her excitement from showing on her face. “He did.”

  “Oh, Penny, how wonderful!”

  “Don’t get overly excited. It was a dance request, not a marriage proposal,” Penny reminded her friend with a lighthearted laugh. “Besides, considering the circumstances, I’m certain he was merely being polite.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Eleanor responded animatedly, “for I saw the way he was looking at you last night.”

  Penny felt a sudden flutter in her stomach. “Last night?”

  “During the recital.”

  “When we were talking, you mean?” Penny asked as they reached the base of the white, marble steps and began their ascent.

  “Well yes, of course, but not only then,” she professed. “It’s when you weren’t talking that he could hardly take his eyes off of you.”

  “Eleanor, don’t tease.”

  “I’m not teasing, I swear.”

  “Exaggerating then,” Penny suggested, fighting to keep her emotions in check for fear that Eleanor was mistaken.

  “I’m not exaggerating either,” Eleanor insisted as they stepped onto the terrace. “I think he’s quite taken with you.”

  Was it possible? Despite Eleanor’s claim, Penny struggled to tamp down her excitement, not wishing to get her hopes up imprudently.

  “So tell me,” Eleanor said then, studying Penny’s face, “are you as taken with the duke as he appears to be with you?”

  Penny could feel her cheeks growing warm and silently cursed the telltale blushes that seemed to be plaguing her with increasing frequency. “Well, I-”

  “Good afternoon, Ladies.”

  Penny’s head immediately swiveled to the right, as did Eleanor’s. Focused upon their conversation, they hadn’t noticed the woman seated upon an umbrella-shaded chaise just a few short feet away.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” they replied in unison, dropping into polite curtsies before the Dowager Duchess of Lyndon.

  “Lady Penelope,” the duchess beckoned, motioning to the empty chaise next to her as she and Eleanor rose from their curtsies, “do come sit with me a moment, won’t you.”

  “Yes, of course, Your Grace.” With a quick, sidelong glance at Eleanor, Penny moved to the cushioned chair.

  Turning her attention to Eleanor then, the duchess said, “Eleanor, dear, I do believe your mother was looking for you earlier.”

  It was an obvious dismissal and one that Eleanor didn’t hesitate to heed. “Thank you, Your Grace. If you will excuse me, I’ll see what she may have needed.” Executing another brief curtsey, Eleanor then hurried toward the nearest set of French doors leading into the rear of the castle.

  Sitting down alongside the duchess, Penny felt no small degree of trepidation as she settled upon the green and blue-striped cushioned seat; for she’d met the woman for only the first time the night before and their conversation had lasted but a few, short minutes. Thus, she hadn’t the slightest notion as to why the duchess had singled her out just now.

  Waiting until the doors had closed firmly behind Eleanor, the duchess then turned her pointed gaze to Penelope. “Your father mentioned that you are about to make your debut.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Your first Season; you must be terribly anxious to make your debut.”

  “Yes, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  “Indeed? And what is it, precisely, that you are looking forward to?” the duchess inquired, regarding Penny through discerning brown eyes.

  “Oh, well, I… there are a number of things I suppose,” Penny faltered, the question catching her off guard.

  The duchess eyed her curiously. “With the start of the Season just a few short weeks away, I’m rather surprised that you haven’t a detailed list at the ready, for I have rarely known a young lady in your position who can scarce think of anything else.”

  “Yes, you’re right of course.” Penny offered the duchess a bright smile. “I certainly don’t mean to seem less than enthusiastic.”

  The duchess regarded her through shrewd, assessing eyes. “And yet you are, less than enthusiastic that is?”

  Drat it all Penny, she thought to herself in growing dismay, she was conversing with one of the most powerful and influential women within the entire English aristocracy, a woman who could affect her standing in Society with little more than a single word, and she was botching it. Not that she cared so much for herself, but she knew that her father would be devastated if her debut was anything less than a great success. So how best to proceed then, she wondered, for the sharp-witted duchess was shockingly perceptive and all too astute in her observations. “To be perfectly honest, Your Grace,” she said after a moment, “there are certain things that I am looking forward to, and admittedly a few that I am not.”

  “Such as?” the duchess prompted.

  “Well, as an admirer of Shakespeare, Marlowe, Moliere and a host of other great playwrights, I cannot wait to visit the theatre so that I may see their dramatic works unfold upon the stage, or to attend the Opera so that I can watch as the brilliant compositions of composers such as Monteverdi, Handel and Cavalli are brought to life. I want to gallop my horse on Rotten Row in the early morning hours before anyone else is about, take afternoon tea at the White Conduit House, stroll through Vauxhall Gardens in the moonlight and spend countless hours exploring the exhibits and gazing upon the magnificent works of art on display at the British Museum,” she concluded.

  The duchess nodded slightly and Penny thought she detected a slight upward turn at the corners of the dowager’s lips. In addition,” she added, “I must confess that I am rather excited at the thought of attending my first masquerade ball.”

  With that admission the duchess’ lips appeared to curve upward another fraction. “One can hardly fault you for that, my dear,” she stated benevolently. “I find it rather curious, however, that you made no mention of attending Almack’s. For isn’t that what every young girl dreams of when she’s on the brink of her societal debut?”

  Almack’s, the embodiment of the marriage mart and the place for gently bred, unmarried ladies to be paraded before
Society’s elite as they endeavored to garner a coveted marriage proposal from one of the ton’s most eligible bachelors, the acquirement of one of their exclusive and highly-sought after vouchers the proverbial golden ticket for an aspiring debutante. Penny shuddered at the notion. “May I speak frankly Your Grace?” she inquired after a moment’s consideration.

  The duchess tipped her head slightly. “I would be sorely disappointed if you didn’t.”

  “Well then,” she began, “it’s not that I am opposed to attending Almack’s per se. But while I certainly understand the expectations placed upon me as I enter into Society and fully accept my familial obligations, the truth is that I am not altogether eager to be regarded as merely the newest commodity on the marriage mart. Nor am I particularly keen to undergo the critical assessment of the ton’s marriage-minded bachelors in order that they may determine whether or not I am aptly suited to elicit a proposal of marriage, compelled to wonder if their affections are sincere or if it is my family name or the size of my dowry that truly garners their favor.” Waiting for the duchess’ reaction, she held her breath, silently praying that she hadn’t made a horrific blunder by speaking so candidly.

  “I see.”

  Penny felt her stomach drop, for the dowager’s expression, as well as her tone, was inscrutable.

  “You do, however, wish to marry, do you not?”

  “Oh yes. I am not opposed to marriage, Your Grace, not at all,” Penny clarified. “In truth I very much look forward to becoming a wife and mother someday.”

  “But you desire more than a marriage of convenience.” The duchess’ words were more a statement than a question.

  Penny hesitated a moment before nodding. “It’s rather foolish, I know,” she acknowledged. “For I assure you, Your Grace, that I am not naive enough to believe that love is a determining factor in marriages within the ton.” Despite her idealistic fantasies of love, romance and happily ever after, she was also a realist and understood only too well that marriages amongst members of the aristocracy were seldom based on anything as frivolous as emotion; her parents union having been one of the all too rare exceptions. Albeit, a union that most likely would not have been sanctioned if it had not been advantageous to both families as well.