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“I’m sorry, dear, I was woolgathering.” Merry ran her fingers down the girl’s smooth cheek. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you thought His Grace would permit me to attend the Christmas Eve ball?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t believe so. You are much too young.”
“Could you ask him? He likes you.”
Merry felt the heat spread from her middle to her face. All morning she hadn’t stopped thinking about last night, and what they’d done. After a brief kiss on her forehead, Penrose had crept from her bed in the middle of the night, leaving her bereft and hugging the pillow that still held his scent.
She had no idea how she would face him today. Would he regard her as a wanton who gave her favors freely? Nonsense. He’d been fully aware of her innocent state. She sighed. So many feelings and thoughts kept her tied in knots. As much as she wished to see him to assure herself he didn’t hold her in contempt, the fear of seeing derision on his face ate at her.
Fortunately she’d been granted a reprieve since he had not appeared at breakfast. Lord Brandon informed her Penrose had left early to settle a dispute at one of his tenant’s homes that had turned dangerous.
“I will ask him, darling, but don’t count on it. I’m sure he will agree you are much too young for such activities.”
Charlotte’s face fell.
“Come, let’s enjoy the freedom from your studies, and help with decorating the ballroom.”
Miss Jennings had allowed both girls the afternoon off to join in the preparations for the ball and Christmas Day. Despite Merry’s invitation to the governess to join them, she’d declined and murmured something about servants being available to do that type of work.
“It looks like Christmas in here.” The duke’s rumbling voice, along with a gust of cold air, carried from the front door, to where Merry stood in the ballroom. She immediately lost interest in directing the placement of greenery and other festive decorations.
Her stomach clenched and her heart sped up. With shaky hands, she smoothed her skirts and took a deep breath.
“So here is where you’ve all gathered.” Penrose entered the room in a whirlwind. He kissed his mother on her cheek and glanced over at Merry, his face impassive. “Miss Chambers.” He nodded.
The clenching in her stomach grew into slight nausea. Where was the warm and tender lover from last night? The man who whispered to her in the dark, who brought her to heights she’d never imagined? Sadly, the stiff and formal duke had taken his place. Then she chided herself. What did she expect him to do? Rush across the room and sweep her into his arms in front of everyone?
Yes.
“Ladies, you are doing a wonderful job. The ball tomorrow night will be a huge success thanks to all your efforts.” He smiled broadly at Charlotte and Clare who tied ribbons onto greenery.
Their young faces flushed in pleasure. Did he have that effect on every female-young and old?
“My, Penrose, you are certainly in high spirits today.” Kitty regarded him with amusement.
“I’m afraid I’ve caught your enthusiasm.”
A footman entered the ballroom. “Your Grace, Miss Jennings awaits you in the library as you requested.”
“Ah, yes. Miss Jennings. Thank you.” He turned to the women. “I will see you all at dinner. I have several things to catch up on this afternoon.” Bowing slightly, he left the room, his departure leaving her bereft.
Why would he request to see Miss Jennings?
The relief she’d hoped to feel at confronting Penrose fled. He’d treated her with the same reserve he had when she’d first arrived. Instead of the warmth from a lover, it was as if he hadn’t even remembered their time together.
The beginnings of a major headache tickled the back of her neck. As soon as the work in the ballroom was finished, she’d lie down with a lavender cloth for her head.
Several hours later, Penrose strode into the drawing room as Brandon poured himself a brandy. He glanced at Penrose over his shoulder. “Care to join me, brother?”
“Yes. Please.” Penrose walked further into the room and took the glass. “I’m glad you are the only one here. I wanted to speak with you before dinner.”
His brother raised his eyebrows. “Sounds serious.”
Penrose drank from his glass and motioned to the two chairs in front of the fireplace. He settled into one, and leaned forward, his elbows braced on his legs, the glass dangling from his fingers. He studied his brother. “I have decided to take a wife.”
Brandon made a choking sound, then coughed and wheezed for a few minutes. Once he had himself under control, he put his glass down, and took in a deep breath. “You said you would never marry.”
