To Capture a Duke's Heart (7 page)

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.

“On the contrary, my dear,” the duchess surprised her by saying.  “Despite the expectations of our aristocratic peers, you desire more than a marriage of convenience; and I for one don’t think that’s foolish at all.  In fact, you remind me much of myself when I was young.”

Penny blinked in surprise.  “I do?”  The duchess smiled then, a warm, heartfelt smile that hinted at the woman behind the formidable demeanor. 

“My yes, for I was a young girl once too and with much the same attitude as you, my dear.  But moreover, you remind me of your mother, for
she
was a true romantic at heart and possessed a very similar mindset when she entered Society.”

Penny leaned forward upon her chair.  “You knew my mother?”

“Oh yes, quite well in fact.”  The duchess’ expression became somewhat wistful as she continued.  “Her untimely death was such a tragic and heartbreaking loss, for your mother was a remarkable woman and one whom I considered a very dear friend.”

“You and my mother were friends?”  Her sweet-tempered mother
dear friends
with the indomitable Dowager Duchess of Lyndon; Penny could scarcely believe it. 

“Indeed. Your mother was a great deal younger than I of course, but we were surprisingly likeminded and got on famously,” the duchess informed her with a fond, remembered smile.  “Her illness and subsequent death was such a shock and saddens me still; though it sincerely warms my heart to see that Miranda lives on in you, my dear Penelope.  For it is clear to see that you not only inherited your mother’s extraordinary beauty, but her enchanting nature as well.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Penny replied softly, humbled by the compliment. “I am truly honored that you think so.”

“Though you and I have only just met, Penelope, I consider myself to be an excellent judge of character and I haven’t the slightest doubt that your mother would be enormously proud of the young lady you’ve become.”

“I’d like to think so, Your Grace.”  Feeling the sudden sting of tears, Penny took a shaky breath and blinked them back.  “I confess that I still miss her terribly, and especially now as I am set to embark upon this next stage of my life.”

“Of course you do, child.”  The duchess reached out, patting Penny’s hand in a comforting gesture.  “Be assured, however, that she is with you in spirit and fear not about this new chapter in your life, for you have your loving father to guide you and a new ally in me.  And as such, I have every expectation that like your mother, you too will be fortunate enough to find the love and happiness you seek.”

Hearing those encouraging words, Penny could only hope that the duchess was right.

“It would help a great deal, my lady, if you could manage to sit still for a moment,” Mavis groused, as she anchored another pin into Penelope’s coiffure.

“I’m sorry, Mavis,” she replied contritely.  “I seem to be overly anxious this evening.”  Truth be told, however,
anxious
was hardly sufficient to describe her present mood, for as she prepared for the evening ahead Penny felt as if her entire body was literally thrumming with excitement.

A muttered “humph” revealed Mavis’ utter lack of interest as she jabbed another pin into the midst of Penelope’s auburn curls.

As such, Penny offered nothing further by way of explanation and simply did her best to remain still as Mavis continued her task.  It was difficult, though, for as she thought ahead to the night’s entertainment and her upcoming dance with the Duke of Ainsworth, she couldn’t help but contemplate her earlier conversation with Eleanor.  Was it possible that her friend was correct in her assumption?  Could it be that the duke
was
taken with her, as Eleanor had suggested?  Heavens, just thinking of the mere possibility set her heart to racing, while gooseflesh prickled all along her arms.  But even as the rational part of her brain cautioned her against such foolish hopes, it was nearly impossible to heed the silent warning when thoughts of the duke seemed to invade her mind with ever-increasing frequency, just as they did now.

It was only when Mavis had secured the final curl in place, muttering, “That should do,” as she stepped back to examine her work that Penny was pulled from her present musings.

“You did a lovely job, Mavis,” she replied graciously, turning her head from side to side as she studied her reflection.  “Thank you.”

“If that will be all, then, I should see to the countess’ final preparations.”

“Yes, of course.” 

As Mavis hustled from the room, Penny adjusted the amethyst necklace that circled her throat and then rose from the vanity seat, smoothing the creases of her pale, lavender-colored skirt.  Though the dress she wore now was not as lavish as a typical ball gown, it was by far the most elegant of the garments she’d brought with her to Scotland with its narrow capped sleeves, square-shaped bodice and abundance of beautifully-detailed flowers and leaves embroidered onto the skirt.  Spinning to and fro in front of the mirror, she delighted in the feel of the soft, airy fabric as it brushed against her silk stockings.

Then, sliding her feet into a pair of low-heeled satin dancing slippers in a slightly darker shade of lavender a few moments later, Penny made another series of sweeping twirls about the room before casting an eager glance toward the nearby mantle clock.  Seeing that it was almost time to make her way down to dinner, she quickly snatched her long white, elbow length gloves from where they lay atop the vanity table.

_____

To Penny it seemed as if an eternity had passed by the time the meal’s final course had been served, the ladies and gentlemen had separated to enjoy their after dinner refreshments and then reunited a little less than an hour later to make their way to the ballroom where the members of a small, five-piece orchestra were readying their instruments for the first dance of the evening.

“Have I told you how lovely you look this evening, my dear?”

Penny looked up at her father as they descended the short flight of steps to the ballroom, smiling fondly.  “A time or two, as I recall.”

The Earl chuckled as he gazed down upon her through warm, loving eyes.  “I only wish that your mother was here to see what a delightful young lady you have become.  She would have been so proud of you, Penny, just as I am.”

“Do you really think so?”

He smiled and patted her hand affectionately.  “I know so.”

“Thank you, Papa.” 

“Regrettably, however,” he stated with a sigh, “I fear that all too soon I shall be forced to share you with a throng of adoring gentlemen that I will undoubtedly be hard-pressed to keep at bay.”

Penny merely grinned as she gave his arm an affectionate, reassuring squeeze.

Moments later, however, having progressed just a short distance into the ballroom, her father’s prediction appeared to be surprisingly astute as she noted Lord Wexley hastening toward them with an engaging smile.

“Excuse me, Lord Beckford,” he said as he approached.

Penny could almost see the words
you see
reflected in her father’s eyes as he turned his gaze from her to the young viscount.  “Wexley?”

Stopping before them, the viscount executed a polite bow.  “With your permission, Sir, I was hoping that Lady Penelope might be so kind as to favor me with the first dance of the evening.”

“I have no objection,” the earl replied graciously, glancing between Penny and Wexley with a benevolent nod.

Lord Wexley tipped his head in appreciation and then turned to Penny with an engaging smile.  “Lady Penelope, would you do me the honor?”

“I would be delighted, Lord Wexley.”  Releasing her father’s arm, Penny stepped forward, placing her hand upon the young lord’s sleeve as he steered her toward the dance floor.

Entering the ballroom as the initial strains of a traditional Scottish reel filled the room, Gabriel arrived just in time to see Lord Wexley lead Lady Penelope from her father’s side and out onto the dance floor. Progressing farther into the room he ignored the surfeit of inviting female glances cast his way as he proceeded toward an unoccupied section of the brilliantly-lit ballroom, accepting a crystal champagne flute from a passing footman along the way.  Stopping near a tall, potted plant near a set of doors leading out to the rear terrace, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, took a long, leisurely drink of champagne and then turned his gaze back to the dance floor.

Despite the large number of dancers he spotted Lady Penelope at once and watched as she deftly executed the steps of the lively reel, her bell-shaped skirt swirling around her legs and affording him an occasional glimpse of her slender, stocking-clad ankles. While he’d never been partial to the varying shades of white and insipid pastels that inevitably clothed each new season’s crop of debutantes, he couldn’t deny that Lady Penelope looked ravishing in her pale, lavender-colored gown.

Had he ever seen Cecelia Penworthy in lavender, he suddenly wondered?  Thinking about it for a moment, he honestly couldn’t recall.  In fact, there wasn’t a great deal about Cecelia that he could recall come to think of it, other than what she looked like of course and that she had a particular fondness for pink roses and chocolate truffles, a liking she’d made mention of on
more
than one occasion. 

With blonde hair, fair skin and cornflower blue eyes, Cecelia was a beautiful young lady, possessing all of the characteristics of a classic English beauty, but even so, she paled woefully in comparison to the splendor of Penelope Houghton’s exquisite features and bold, vibrant coloring.  Although, now that he thought about it, Cecelia’s beauty was hardly the only thing that paled in comparison.  With his gaze still riveted on Lady Penelope, his thoughts turned to his conversation with Agatha the night before and to the question that had been plaguing him since.
Did
he want a wife who would simply fade into the wallpaper once they were wed, a wife who could skillfully embroider a tea towel or paint a pleasing watercolor to hang upon their drawing room wall, or did he want something more?

As Lord Wexley escorted Penny from the dance floor at the end of the set, she noticed one of the Ashcroft twins standing at her father’s side.  This time she knew precisely which brother it was, however, as she’d noted at dinner that while both brothers were wearing black evening jackets and matching trousers, Rafael’s waistcoat was blue with gold embroidered fleurs-de-lis, while Michael’s was black with a cut-velvet, woven floral pattern.  Thus, it was easy to discern that it was Rafael who stood there now.

“It appears you shall have no shortage of dance partners this evening, my lady,” Lord Wexley commented good-humoredly as they approached her father and Lord Ashcroft.

“Wexley, Lady Penelope,” Lord Ashcroft greeted affably.

“My lord.”

“Ashcroft.”

“Thank you for the dance,” Lord Wexley,” Penny said then, smiling graciously as she released the viscount’s arm.

“It was my pleasure, Lady Penelope,” he replied, returning her smile.  “Gentlemen,” he said then, offering a polite nod to her father and Lord Ashcroft before taking his leave.

“Lady Penelope, I hope you haven’t forgotten the promise you made me at breakfast this morning,” Lord Ashcroft inquired with a disarming smile.

“Of course not, my lord, I believe I promised you a dance.”  Goodness he
was
a good-looking devil, Penny thought as she returned his smile.  And recalling her and Eleanor’s earlier conversation, she had to admit that
tempting
was definitely a fitting term to describe the dashing rogue, for even now she could feel her cheeks begin to warm beneath the intensity of his piercing, blue-eyed gaze.  And without question
she
, just as any other living, breathing female no doubt, would be well-advised to keep her wits about her in Rafael Ashcroft’s beguiling presence. 

“Indeed you did.  And as luck would have it,” he remarked, glancing over her shoulder, “it looks as if the orchestra is cuing up for the next set as we speak.”

Penny turned her head, casting a quick look toward the orchestra stand.  “Yes, it appears they are,” she replied with a nod.

Lord Ashcroft extended his arm.  “Would you do me the honor, then?”

Beside Lord Ashcroft, her father tipped his head approvingly.

“I would be delighted, my lord.”

Taking his arm, she followed him as he led her to a vacant spot amongst the other couples gathering in the center of the room and a moment later took hold of his gloved-hand as the orchestra began the opening strains of a Bavarian Schottische.

As she had expected Lord Ashcroft proved to be an excellent dancer and she was quite enjoying herself as they moved through the various steps and turns as they circled the floor.  It was when Lord Ashcroft spun her into the fourth turn, however, that she happened to notice the Duke of Ainsworth standing against the ballroom’s rear wall, a champagne glass held loosely within his hand, and promptly lost her focus. 

Good heavens he was looking directly at her, she realized, nearly missing a step.  Even so, she found it impossible to look away as their eyes locked and held, the silent connection leaving her momentarily breathless.  He smiled then, a slight upward turn of his lips as he tipped his head in acknowledgement, eliciting a thrilling little jolt of awareness that seemed to rush from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes.  She lost sight of him in the next second, however, as another couple moved to block her view.  Angling her head, she tried to see past them as Lord Ashcroft guided her into the next turn.

As they spun around, Lord Ashcroft breathed a long, drawn out sigh, causing Penny to direct her gaze back to his face in surprise.  He looked quite disgruntled, a frown marring his handsome face. 
Oh dear.
  “Is everything alright, my lord?” she asked hesitantly.

“Quite the contrary, I’m afraid.”  He emitted another dramatic sigh as they executed the next series of steps.

Blast!
  Had she done something in error amidst her brief lack of attention?  Executed the wrong step perhaps or unwittingly trod upon his foot, she fretted, eyeing him uneasily. 

“I’m not at all used to this, you see.”

“This?”

“You seem distracted,” he clarified, “and as ladies in my company are
rarely
distracted, it’s a bit unsettling,” he continued, a look of exaggerated consternation upon his handsome face.

Penny relaxed, her distress eased by his obvious teasing.  “You have my sincerest apology, my lord, if I have failed to give you my undivided attention.  It was unintentional, I assure you,” she continued with a laughing smile.  “Please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

He cocked his head, appearing to consider the notion for a moment.  “I suppose it might help to soothe my bruised ego if you were to bat your eyelashes whilst gazing up at me in fawning adoration.”

“Like this?”  Penny fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly and curved her lips into a simpering grin.

“Ah yes, that’s much better,” Lord Ashcroft replied, nodding approvingly.  “Now, if you were to offer an effusive compliment of my person, perhaps?” he suggested encouragingly.

“Such as…?”

“Well there is assuredly a vast number to choose from, of course, but mayhap you could remark upon the exceptional color of my eyes,” he proposed.

Penny scrunched up her forehead as if she were giving serious-minded consideration to the matter. 

“Profess your admiration of my dancing expertise?”

She bit down playfully upon her bottom lip as she pretended to ponder the recommendation.

“Extol my stimulating wit and unparalleled charm?”