Page 4 of The Spy and His Lady Love
Couldthe night get any worse? Penelope mused to herself as she found herself sitting beside the hideous duke at the spacious dining table. Well, that was rather harsh. He was only hideous on one side of his face. The side facing her. The other side was handsome. How unfortunate to be disfigured. His thick, dark hair hung loose to his chin, no doubt to help in hiding his black patch and scar. Fortunately for him, when sitting down one didn’t notice his lame leg. Perhaps if she sat on his good side she could forget, for a time, about his shortcomings.
Sitting next to him now, she wondered if he was a good conservationist. “Your Grace,” Penelope said as the first course landed in front of them. “What have you been doing the past several years to occupy your time since leaving the army?”
Pausing midway to his mouth with a spoon full of turtle soup, he hesitated then continued on with his soup. It took several moments before he placed his spoon down next to his bowl, removed his napkin from his lap, and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with large, powerful hands. For a man with such robust hands, his movement was surprisingly graceful. She could almost forget about his shortcomings.
He didn’t bother to turn toward her. His lips did, however, turn up into a smirk or smile, she couldn’t tell which. “I keep busy. Between my many holdings and being a duke and all that entails, the socializing, the House of Lords and such, I find I have little time to myself. Which is good.”
“Why is not having time to yourself good, Your Grace?”
“What an inquisitive mind you have, Lady Penelope.”
Something about the way he said it made her wonder where she had heard someone say those same words to her before. It would come to her in time. His mannerisms were familiar as well, and she’d only dined with him one other time. She wasn’t proud of herself for how she’d acted that night at Spencer House. Penelope knew they attended only so Wentworth could meet the allusive duke and gauge whether he would be marriage material for her. It seemed the duke passed her brother’s test because here he was seated next to her. She would try to keep an open mind about the duke. She, who really had no right to be considering taking a duke for a husband, her being a bastard and all.
Unfortunately, being born a bastard did not take away one’s pride. And Penelope had pride enough for two. Not to mention stubbornness and her curious nature. She may understand her station in life, even if her family ignored it. Just because they had accepted her, didn’t mean other members of the ton would.
“I should apologize for my curiosity, but it won’t do any good.”
Now he turned his head. His one starling blue eye unsettled her. Along with his smile. A genuine smile that had her tingling because truly his handsomeness and how it affected her shocked her. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to this man. The disfigured and pitied duke? She did admire him so. Because if their lives were reversed, and she had his afflictions, she’d never leave the house. She would die an old spinster relying on the kindness of Wentworth.
“I beg your forgiveness for asking such a personal question. Perhaps we should eat before the food gets cold,” she mumbled.
“Yes, indeed. Perhaps we should.” Was that amusement she heard in his voice?
For what seemed like an eternity, one course after the next came and went and Penelope barely nibbled on the food. She was ashamed of herself for thinking unkind things about the duke after glimpsing the kind gentleman behind his shortcomings. She didn’t mean shortcomings as insulting, she couldn’t come up with a sufficient word to use. He deserved everyone’s respect for the war hero he was. And she felt so beneath him. How could Wentworth think the duke would consider marrying her? A bastard nobody who was far from innocent by ton standards.
It took forever for the ladies to leave the gentlemen to their cheroots and brandy and retire to the drawing room for gossip. Emma and Penelope sat together on a mauve velvet settee. Penelope glanced across the room to the two young ladies who’d joined them. One could not have an uneven number of males and females for dinner. Wentworth had invited eligible ladies also looking for husbands. Viscount Dayton and Mr. Percy were in the market for wives.
“Do you think Lady Julia Finley and Miss Sophia Trembley were horrified when the Duke of Newbury arrived?” Penelope queried.
“I’m quite convinced they were,” Emma replied, “but both ladies hid their feelings well. Even with his…issues…His Grace is still quite a catch. If you concentrate on his good side, he is strikingly handsome.”
“Emma?”
“Not as handsome as my duke, but handsome, nonetheless if you don’t look too closely at his scar and eye patch and forgot his injured leg. Some people compare him to a pirate. What young lady doesn’t dream of a handsome, dangerous, debonair pirate kidnapping her and sailing off into the sunset to a deserted island so he can claim her as his?”
She couldn’t hide her giggles. “No wonder you write and sell so many gothic novels.”
“Shhh. Please remember it’s under a false name and not everyone in the family knows. However, talking about pirates has let lose my imagination. I can hardly wait to retire and put pen to ink. My faithful readers will love a good treasure hunt with a handsome pirate. I will make him a good pirate who works for the Crown. The Crown sends him on the hunt for the notorious Blackbeard. While sailing through a storm he rescues a fair maiden from a sinking vessel bound for the Americas. Little does the good pirate, I shall call him Scarborough, realize the fair maiden is actually Blackbeard’s eldest daughter.”
Penelope sighed and her body turned languid. “When can I read it?”
Emma laughed. “I have not written a word. But thank you for helping me come up with a plot. Here are the gentlemen returning to us. Really, if you look closely at the Duke of Newbury and past his afflictions, he is handsome like my pirate will be. I think I’ll model him after the duke.”
If she looked closely enough, Penelope could see Newbury as a pirate. Although there was another man who reminded her of a pirate. Hugh, whom she’d danced with at the masquerade. With his mask and his devil-may-care attitude, he could very well be a real-day pirate.
“Pardon, Lady Penelope, Your Grace, I don’t mean to intrude,” the Duke of Newbury said as he acknowledged both of them. “I was hoping to interest Lady Penelope in a game of chess?”
She could lie and say she didn’t play when truth be told she loved chess. Had been taught when in Viscount Hadley’s employ by the old butler who had taken pity on her. They would play at night, and Penelope knew it was his way of looking out for her when her mother couldn’t. “I would love to, Your Grace.”
“Shall we, then?” Newbury said as he offered his hand, obviously the one not clutched to his cane. Never would she understand why ladies of the ton needed to act helpless when gentlemen were around. She was perfectly capable of standing up from a settee by herself. In fact, she did it many times a day. Such silly etiquette games society played. “Thank you.” When their hands connected, an odd warm vibration traveled from beneath her glove, up her arm, and settled inside her chest. How odd. Hands still joined, Penelope looked at him and he at her. A puzzled expression crossed his features momentarily. No doubt similar to the look she gave him. Pulling her hand back, she led the way to the chess table across the room, near a large picture window overlooking the back gardens. Although it was dark outside, Penelope knew the gardens were there as she’d taken refuge inside the terraced walls many times since arriving in London.
“White or black, my dear?”
Had he called her dear? She’d never been asked by a man what color she wanted before. They took it upon themselves to assume she wanted white. Or they wanted black. Either way, it was a novelty to be asked. When she played with one of her sisters, she took black. “Black.”
His one eye glimmered with amusement. “Black for the lady it is.”
“You don’t mind?” She wished the words back the moment she spoke them.
