Page 33 of It's a British Christmas

“Obviously this will not be the typical ton marriage you had anticipated. Mother and I have been aware that your feelings for the girl are beyond the affection stage.” He sobered and swirled the brandy in his glass. “Keep in mind, Penrose, you will hear comments from some members of the ton about Miss Chamber’s background. Don’t forget, you are considered quite the catch. I would not see her subjected to derision and heartache. I am quite fond of my future sister.”

“No one will cut my duchess.”

“See that they don’t.”

Penrose nodded as his mother and Miss Jennings entered the room.

He glanced behind them. “Where is Miss Chambers?”

“We saw her at the top of the stairs, about to return to her bedroom. Apparently she has a headache, and won’t be joining us.”

A line formed between his brows. “Should we send for the doctor?”

“No, dear. Miss Chambers did look a bit pale and shaky, but she assured me it was a minor thing.”

The four entered the dining room, taking their seats. Despite a tempting dinner of roast duck, broiled salmon, braised beef and a selection of vegetables, Penrose remained distracted throughout the meal. Merry had seemed all right when he’d seen her this afternoon. God, how hard it had been to not race across the room and pull her into his arms, right there in front of everyone. The only way he was able to control himself was to practically ignore her.

He frowned. After dinner he would go to her room and reassure himself she wasn’t seriously ill. Penrose patted his pocket to feel the sapphire and diamond ring he’d retrieved from the safe that afternoon. For generations the ring had been given to every duchess on her betrothal. It had been hard not to confide in his mother, but as much as he loved the woman, she would likely spoil the surprise before he had the chance to propose to Merry tomorrow evening, right before the ball.

Penrose smiled to himself. He’d had no idea when his annoyance with Merry had changed to desire, and then to something akin to love. Hell, it was love. He loved the minx, and without a doubt her escapades would bring a certain amount of terror to his well-ordered life. He couldn’t wait.

Although he tried unsuccessfully to pay attention to the conversation around him, he was blessedly relieved when the meal came to an end.

“I will see you all in the morning. I have matters to attend to this evening. Good night.” Penrose pushed his chair back and left the room.

He hurried up the stairs, then strode down the corridor to Merry’s room, and tapped on the door.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded muffled, like she had a stuffed nose. Was she very sick?

“Merry, open the door.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I’m not feeling well.”

Your Grace?

“That is precisely why I want you to open the door. Should I send for the doctor?”

“No!”

He rattled the latch. “Merry, can you please let me in? I won’t stay, I just want to assure myself of your condition.”

“I have no condition, Your Grace.”

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. What was going on? Had their lovemaking last night upset her? He had an almost frantic need to see her, run his hands up and down her body, make sure she was all right.

“Merry, I’m asking nicely. Now please open the door.”

“I’m not properly dressed, Your Grace.”

He leaned his forehead on the door. Something was drastically wrong, and unless he could actually view her, he knew sleep would not come to him tonight. A sense of dread descended on him.

“All right. Shall I have a tray sent up?”

No answer.

“Merry?”

Her sigh came through the door. “No. Please leave me.”