To Capture a Duke's Heart (16 page)

Leaving the earl’s property and turning onto the main road it didn’t take long for Penny to realize that the second portion of their journey would be all too similar to the first.  For despite her earlier conversation with Michael he made no further overtures and in fact seemed to purposefully avoid making eye contact, nary casting a glance in her direction as he chatted quietly with Rafael on the opposite seat, whilst the duke blatantly ignored her, occupying himself with the latest edition of
The Times
.

Disheartened, though not particularly surprised, Penny turned to the window with a weary sigh and focused her attention once again upon the passing landscape, knowing that in all likelihood it would be several hours before they reached their next stop. 

As she’d learned from her father, the Ainsworth’s ancestral estate in Berkshire had been undergoing renovations for the past several months which had necessitated the duke and his brothers spending the past months in London, rather than retiring to the country like the majority of their peers. Thus, with the start of the Season still weeks away, it was to their London residence that they were now travelling, the added distance requiring them to spend the night at one of the numerous coaching houses along the way.  It was going to be a lengthy journey, and seated just inches away from the duke, whose anger and resentment remained a palpable force within the confines of the coach, it wasn’t one that she was looking forward to by any stretch of the imagination.

_____

By the time their coach pulled into the courtyard of the
Rose and Thistle,
shortly after the sun had dropped below the western horizon, Penny’s neck and back were stiff and her stomach had begun to rumble with hunger.  Thus it was with an inordinate sense of relief that she took hold of the footman’s hand and stepped down onto the inn’s pebbled drive a few minutes later.

Clearly having noted the ducal crest emblazoned upon the side of their coach, the innkeeper himself hurried outside to greet them.  “My lords, my lady, welcome to the
Rose and Thistle
.  I am Mr. Buckley, the proprietor of this establishment,” he greeted.  “How may I be of service this evening?”

As Gabriel set about apprising Mr. Buckley of their needs, Penny took note of their present surroundings.  Fortunately the courtyard appeared neat and orderly, the building’s exterior simple though well-maintained and if the delicious aroma drifting through the open front door was an indication of the inn’s fare, the meals promised to be both appetizing and satiating.  And with that last thought in mind, her stomach emitted another discontented rumble.

Mercifully, however, it wasn’t long before she, the duke and his brothers were seated amongst the other patrons of the inn at one of the tables within the main dining room, with steaming plates of stewed beef, boiled potatoes, peas, carrots and oven-fresh biscuits set before them a short while later. They ate in silence for the most part, the men limiting themselves to the occasional remark about the food or drink, whilst Penny focused on her own meal and did her best to ignore the trio of buxom serving maids who flitted about their table like a cluster of enthusiastic bees buzzing around a particularly fragrant patch of heather. 

Even so, by the time their dessert had arrived, a tasty lemon-balm cake with custard sauce, Penny had become increasingly annoyed with the sheer multitude of toothy smiles, rapidly-batting eyelashes and bold, come-hither looks being directed toward the duke and his brothers.  The men, however, seemed entirely unaffected by the women’s ongoing attempts to garner their attention as they blithely continued to eat their food and drink their wine.  No doubt the too-handsome siblings had grown so accustomed to being the recipients of such blatant flirtation that the maids’ audacious behavior scarcely drew their notice, she surmised. 

In any event, it wasn’t much longer before the meal was concluded, the last of the dessert plates were removed from the table and the overly solicitous maids were left with scant reason to linger about their table.  Unfortunately, however, with the ending of their meal, Penny was faced with an entirely different and far more distressing situation, retiring upstairs to the chamber she was to share with the duke.  And while such an occurrence would surely have set her heart racing in delicious anticipation as recent as the night before, the impending circumstance
now
filled her with naught but stomach-churning dread and a rapidly escalating sense of panic.

“I hope the meal was to your liking, Your Grace,” Mr. Buckley inquired, interrupting Penny’s thoughts as he entered the dining room and approached their table, his sudden presence sending the serving maids scurrying off to attend to the other diners.

“It was indeed, Mr. Buckley,” Gabriel replied.  “My compliments to your kitchen staff.”

“Yes, the lemon-balm cake was especially delicious,” Penny asserted.

“My wife, Henrietta, does most of the cooking,” he informed them proudly.  “Truth be told, her lemon cake’s one of the reasons I married her,” he added with a grin for Penelope, patting his rounded belly.  “Although, the black pudding she’ll be serving with tomorrow’s breakfast is her specialty.”

Penny smiled appreciatively.  “I shall look forward to it.”

“May I bring you gentlemen another bottle of wine,” he asked then, glancing around the table, “a pot of tea or sherry for Her Grace perhaps?”

“Yes, let’s have one more bottle of the red wine before we retire,” Rafael suggested.  

Gabriel nodded agreeably and then turned to Penelope.  “Would you care for sherry or tea?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”  If the gentlemen were going to enjoy another bottle of wine, it might afford her a few minutes of privacy before the duke,
her husband
, joined her upstairs.  “In fact, I believe that I shall retire for the evening if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” he replied dispassionately. 

All three men pushed back their chairs then, standing politely as Penny rose from her seat and Mr. Buckley hurried off to fetch the wine.

“I’ll escort you upstairs,” the duke offered, but Penny stayed him with her hand.  “You needn’t bother, Your Grace.  I can see myself up,” she assured him.

He hesitated for a moment and then nodded.  “As you wish.”

“Well, goodnight then,” she said, glancing between Michael and Rafael.

“Goodnight,” they each replied, tipping their heads politely in her direction.

“Be sure to lock the door behind you,” the duke instructed as she stepped away from the table; and for one, heart-stopping moment Penny imagined that he might have decided to sleep elsewhere for the night.  But regrettably her momentary flicker of hope was abruptly extinguished by his very next sentence.

“I’ll use my key.”

Penny felt her stomach drop, but somehow she managed to maintain a composed expression as she offered a brief nod and then turned to walk away.

Entering into the small, sparsely-furnished chamber a few minutes later, Penny closed and then locked the door behind her as Gabriel had directed and quickly glanced about the room.  Aside from the addition of her traveling case and a similar, though slightly smaller piece of luggage that could only belong to him, the room looked just as it had before when she’d stepped inside to briefly refresh herself before dinner. Unfortunately that gave her little comfort, however, as there remained only one, dismayingly-narrow bed set against the wall to her right.

Not knowing how much time she would have before Gabriel made his way upstairs, she turned from the bed, inhaled a slow, deep breath and then hurried to where the hard-sided, leather case she’d packed that morning sat below the room’s solitary window.  Briefly she considered calling upon one of the inn’s female servants to assist her in undressing, but unsure how long such a request would take, she decided against it.  And so, picking up her case she carried it over to the privacy screen that stood in the nearby corner, opened it and then hastily withdrew her night rail before stepping behind the tall, single-paneled screen. 

Removing her shoes and stockings, she then reached for the fastenings of her gown, thankful that she’d thought to wear a dress that buttoned down the front instead of the back as she stepped out of it a moment later, and then swiftly shed her white linen petticoat.  Divesting herself of her tightly-laced corset proved a far more difficult task, however, and by the time she’d managed to untie the satin laces interweaved along the length of her back she was panting with exertion, her shoulder muscles were aching and she was lamenting her decision not to call for assistance. 

Standing then in her cotton chemise, she turned to fill the washbowl from the ceramic pitcher that sat on the narrow wooden table behind her and set about cleansing herself with a wetted cloth.  And although she would have much-preferred to submerse herself in the depths of a warm, scented bath, she was loathe to burden the inn’s busy staff with what would surely prove an arduous and time-consuming task.  Thus, she made do as best she could with the contents of the washbowl before removing her shift and slipping the cotton night rail over her head.

Stepping out from behind the screen, Penny quickly folded her discarded clothing, set it aside and then glanced nervously toward the bed.  Despite the hours she’d spent staring pensively out the coach window, she’d made a concerted effort to avoid thinking about the night ahead and the impending consummation of her marriage to the duke.  Regrettably, however, she knew that she couldn’t put it off any longer.  And so, turning down the bedside lamp so that only a faint glimmer lighted the darkened room, she pulled back the quilted coverlet, slipped between the sheets and tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever was to come.

Raised in the country and surrounded by an abundance of natural wildlife, as well as a variety of domestic animals, Penny had been exposed to the fundamentals of procreation from a relatively young age.  Even so, her understanding of the particulars involved in human copulation was speculative at best.  Certainly if her mother were alive she would have spoken to her about such things in preparation of her wedding night, but regrettably her mother wasn’t alive and her stepmother, the one person who might have offered her some idea as to the particulars that awaited her in the marriage bed, hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her since she’d ordered her from her chamber earlier that morning.

Of course, considering the duke’s present feelings of animosity, he might not even wish to consummate their marriage that night, she reasoned,
or any other night
for that matter.  But no, surely his desire for an heir would necessitate his joining with her in the marriage bed at some point, even if he did despise her.  But even so, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that their marital relations would be the same as they might have been had they shared a congenial, conventional union.  How could they be when her husband felt nothing for her but contempt, bitterness and resentment?

Oh how she hated this, hated not knowing what her future held, not only for the night ahead but for the remaining years of her life. Choking back a sob, she rolled onto her side.  The uncertainty was beyond frightening; it was terrifying.  Sadly, the only thing she did know for certain was that her dreams of falling in love and having a marriage filled with happiness and joy, idealistic though they may have been, had been effectively shattered. 
But how?
  How had this happened, she wondered in despair; the selfsame question she had asked herself at least a hundred times already? Unfortunately, however, the question had remained woefully unanswered, just as it did now.  For despite her repeated efforts to remember, she still hadn’t the vaguest notion as to how she had ended up in the duke’s bed; and sadly, she was beginning to fear that she never would. 

Penny had no idea how much time had passed before the unmistakable rattle of a key turning in the lock sounded within the tiny chamber; but laying there, her mind fraught with fear and apprehension, it had felt like an endless amount of time.  Tensing, her eyes darted anxiously to the door as it swung open on its hinges and her husband stepped across the threshold and into the room. Breathlessly she watched, silent and unmoving beneath the covers, as he pushed the door closed behind him, reset the lock with a faint metal click and then turned, casting a cursory glance around the dimly lit space. 

Ignoring the bed,
and her
, he focused upon the room’s solitary chair, moving toward it as he began to unbutton his jacket.  Then, when the task was completed, he shrugged it from his shoulders and laid it across the top of the wooden, ladder-back chair, following it a few moments later with his waistcoat and silk neck scarf.  Sitting then, he reached for the wooden boot jack that sat beside the chair and positioned it on the floor in front of him.  Removing his boots, the heels emitted dull thumps as he dropped them one by one onto the hard, wooden floor and then nudged them aside.  

Penny continued to watch him, unable to look away as he turned his attention to his shirt front and set about unfastening the row of pearl buttons.  She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry as she wondered if he intended to remove his clothing entirely. The possibility immediately set her heart thumping wildly within her chest, for she’d never seen a naked man before, not once in all of her eighteen years.  Should she look away?  Close her eyes?
She did neither, her gaze riveted upon the slowly widening expanse of skin above his sternum.