The Light in the Duke's Shadow: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 14

  Penelope laughed lightly at the look on the man’s face. “I do that sometimes myself. Misplacing thoughts, I mean.” She paused and said, “I am glad that you have those at home who were missing you.”

  She wanted to enquire after others, ladies perhaps, but it was so wholly inappropriate that Penelope kept the thoughts to herself. He had said that he was not interested in that sort of thing, had he not? Penelope contented herself with that.

  “Do you have no other family or loved ones?” Penelope ventured.

  Jules shook his head. “Not close enough to call family. The household staff is more my family now.”

  “Do none of them believe your innocence?” Penelope had to ask the question. She saw the ghosts of pain in the man’s eyes.

  He frowned. “They say they do. I do not know who to believe anymore. I want to believe when someone says that they think I am innocent, but—”

  “How can you when you believe that you are not innocent?” Penelope asked the man, cutting off his trailing sentence.

  Jules nodded slowly. “That is the truth of it.” He sighed.

  Penelope pulled her dressing gown around her still a bit conscious of how she was dressed. The Duke’s eyes followed her movement, but he did not comment on it. He did not seem terribly uncomfortable with the situation, and Penelope pondered if that made him nice or possibly indecent.

  The Duke looked down at his own attire which was suitable aside from not having a coat. Half-dressed as he was, perhaps the man did not deem to comment on how Penelope was dressed. When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice used for conspirators. “Meeting you has given me pause, Penelope. Had our paths never crossed, I would not abate in my all-consuming quest for truth. Now I am tempted …” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at Penelope. He continued, “I am tempted to forsake my quest as folly and ruin. Surely in such blue eyes, I should find peace.”

  Penelope smiled at the Duke’s words. She felt a blush settle on her face, but she did not try to hide it. No, there was little to hide from this man. Perhaps not all men were like her father. Her smile faded a bit at the memory of her mother’s journal.

  “What is it that troubles you?” Jules asked with concern on his lips. “Is it related to what your father said about your art not being as happy?”

  Penelope nodded slowly. “My painting often displays my mood and betrays my thoughts. I had not intended for my painting skill to slip or my paintings to become somehow darker.”

  “What made you unhappy?” Jules asked, pressing closer to the question that Penelope did not want to answer.

  Penelope sighed and looked at the man hoping the heartbreak would not show through. By the look on his face, he could see straight to her core, and Penelope decided there was no need to hide anything from him. “A few months back I found a journal in our attic while looking for interesting things to ponder. It turned out to be my mother’s diary from when she and father married.”

  “I do not understand how that could make you so upset,” Jules said as he frowned in obvious confusion.

  Penelope smiled and shook her head. “My mother was a bright, clever woman. She was much like me when she married Father. They were happy… for a time.” Penelope clasped her hands together and fought back the emotions that always came when she thought of her poor mother at that time. “She loved him so fiercely, and then he became cold and demanding. Slowly, through her words, I watched him break her and shackle her. My mother is not that same woman. I never got to meet that woman because of my father.”

  Jules looked at her with something resembling pity, but Penelope pushed on. “I was of age to find a husband. It was all mother talked about really. I had been excited to find a life outside of her doldrum home, but when I found that diary, I changed. My hope crumbled into fear, and I did everything I could to sabotage any who might want to ask my father for my hand because I did not want to be broken down and shackled. I do not want to find a man and let him into my heart only for him to snuff out all that I am and replace it with obedience.”

  Penelope felt a tear slide down her cheek, and she could not muster the strength to be ashamed of it. She gulped in air, and that was when Jules’ hand cupped her cheek and wiped her tear away with his thumb. She looked into his eyes pleading silently for something she could not even describe.

  Jules’ hand left her cheek, and he whispered, “Were I with you, I would never ask you to be anything but who you truly are.”

  Penelope stared at the man as if he were some sort of illusion that might vanish if she moved or said anything. Jules spoke again when he saw that she was not going to speak. “I never wanted anything other than revenge for my parents. That is all I thought about until I met you.”

  “What does that mean?” Penelope asked. She eyed the man with interest as he seemed to consider what he was about to say.

  Jules reached out to her, and Penelope slipped her hand into his larger hand. Jules said, “You make me see that there are things that are more important than revenge.”

  Penelope eyed the man, and he watched her back with those dark eyes. Her breath caught firmly in her throat as she saw him lean in closer. She watched him as if in a dream where you could not move, and she waited.

  Jules’ lips brushed hers ever so softly, barely there. Perhaps he was more ghost than a man because the kiss fluttered against her skin. She felt the kiss and the man, but both also seemed somehow far away.

  “Will you accept me?” Jules asked.

  It was an odd question. It made no sense. Penelope had always accepted him. Did he mean something different? Penelope looked into his eyes. Their darkness was illuminated by moonlight and intensity. He wanted her to answer as much as she craved to answer his kiss.

  Penelope whispered, “Yes. I will accept you. I have always accepted you.”

  “I meant would you accept if I asked you to be my bride,” Jules said with amusement in his voice.

  Penelope laughed softly. “I would say yes to that as well, Your Grace.”

  Jules gave her a smile. It was one she had not seen from him. It spoke of tenderness and sweet whispers. Penelope longed to hear some of the things that smile would speak of, and yet she pondered what he had said earlier.

  “Would you really reconsider your revenge?” Penelope did not know the man that well, she could admit that. She could also tell anyone she happened across that this man was a noble and kind soul. She had seen it in him.

  There was a moment where Jules gave her a look as if he had forgotten something. Then he said, “Like I said, you make me remember things that are more important than just revenge.”

  “I do not want to see you hurt, but I do not want you to regret and let this eat you alive. I will help you do whatever it is that you wish.” Penelope wanted the man to understand that she would be with him no matter what he chose.

  Jules nodded his understanding. “And I truly think my parents would want me to be happy. I shall still think of it, and if the truth should come to me, then I will open my arms to it, but seeking it as I have brought me so close to death that I have realised some of the folly in it.”

  Penelope smiled and felt warmth within at the man’s words. “To know that you would set aside such for me, is beyond anything that I ever thought a man would offer to me, Jules.”

  “Well, I think you are worth it,” Jules said, and Penelope found nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

  She wanted to say something else but found that words did not do what she was feeling justice. Penelope smiled and hoped that Jules saw in her all the adoration that he inspired in her. She tried her best to let him see it truly within her.

  The man’s eyes went to the door, and they both stood waiting as if something would happen. Jules said, “I thought I heard something.”

  “Perhaps someone else is about,” Penelope whispered.

  Jules sighed, “Then we should go to our beds. I must admit that my side is aching quite well.”

  “You should have said
something,” Penelope said as she gave the man a scolding look.

  He laughed softly, hidden in the night as they were whispering. “Are you always like this then?”

  “Reconsidering?” Penelope asked with a grin.

  The Duke gave her a smile. “Not in the slightest,” he assured her as he walked over to the door. He held it open so that Penelope could slip through and out into the hallway.

  The hallway was quiet, but Penelope looked up and down its length just to assure herself that no one was lurking around. She turned back to the Duke who had just come out of the door and pulled it closed behind him. “Good night, Jules,” Penelope said as she fought down the fluttering of her stomach.

  “Good night, Penelope,” the Duke said with a dip of his head before he headed towards his room and she towards hers.

  Penelope glanced back at the man, his form retreating down the hall as she walked towards her own room. She could not quite believe that the Duke had just asked her to marry him. Penelope had no doubt that her father would accept with the way he was practically throwing Penelope at the Duke during the evening meal.

  The smile on Penelope’s face refused to budge. She thought of her mother’s diary, and it did not wilt. She thought of her father, and it did not dim even a little.

  When Penelope found her bed, she fell over into it without bothering to remove her dressing gown. The faintest touch of the Duke’s lips could still be felt against her own. Penelope sighed up at the ceiling. She had a wonderful story to tell that silent, secret-keeping ceiling.

  Chapter 8

  The morning sun did not awaken Jules. Despite the lateness of his retiring to bed, Jules had been up for hours before the sun broke through the window. The night with Lady Withersfield had left him full of energy and eagerness.

  He pondered when would be an appropriate time to officially ask the Marquis for his daughter’s hand, or at the very least to court the young lady properly. Jules shook his head at his reflection. What an odd series of events that had transpired to lead him to such a vastly different outcome.

  Before he entered that alley, his only thought had been to get to the truth of things. Avenging his parents’ deaths had been worth more than anything, even his own life. Since the moment his parents had died, there had been no peace in his soul, until he saw that angel at the end of the alley.

  And an angel she had been, Jules mused with a smile. He had been brash to kiss her, but it had been but an innocent moment. She made him feel as if he was satisfied and complete. Perhaps the truth was not about his parents at all. Perhaps the truth he needed was how the young Lady Withersfield made him feel loved.

  There was a knock on the door to which Jules called, “Enter.”

  Scott stepped into the room and eyed the man with surprise. Jules knew Scott must be wondering how he was able to get his shirt on, when in fact Jules had never taken his shirt off the night before. There was no reason to tell him that, though, so Jules just gave the man a welcome nod of his head.

  Scott cleared his throat. “Ready for your coat, Your Grace?”

  “Yes,” Jules said with a nod. He allowed Scott to help him pull on his coat. He was not as sore as yesterday, but he was still wary of pulling the threads that the doctor had sewn into his side.

  Scott tugged the coat up over Jules’ arm. “You are moving much better, Your Grace.”

  “Yes. I am rather surprised by how well I feel this morning.” Jules smiled at the man. “The doctor certainly knows his trade.”

  Scott nodded. “Shall you go down to breakfast then, Your Grace?”

  “I think I shall,” Jules said. If possible, he would rather not have meals in his room like a sick child. There was also the bright hope that he would get to spend a bit of time with Lady Withersfield at the breakfast table.

  Scott went to fetch Jules’ shoes from under the bed and brought them over to him. Jules asked the man, “Do you like working for the Marquis?”

  There was surprise on Scott’s face at the question. He stammered, “W-why, yes, Your Grace.”

  “Are you certain that I could not win you over to coming to my household? You do a splendid job.” Jules could not help laughing at the look on the man’s face. “What is it that has you so shocked?”

  Scott’s eyebrows knitted together. “I could never just leave the Master and Mistress like that. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Indeed,” Jules said as he nodded. “I should have expected no less from such a devoted servant. My offer still stands if you change your mind, though.”

  Scott bobbed his head. “I’m honoured, Your Grace.”

  “Where in Ireland are you from?” Jules asked out of curiosity, but Scott again seemed surprised at the attention. Jules shook his head. “There’s no need to answer if you do not wish. I am merely satisfying my own curiosity. My family employed a maid some years ago who was from Cabridge. Do you know where that is?”

  Scott nodded and smiled. “Oh, aye. I grew up in Green Castle. It is not that far a ride if you are determined.”

  “So you are from Northern Ireland, then?” Jules asked as he slipped his feet into the shoes that Scott held for him.

  With another nod, Scott replied, “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “You really do not need to add Your Grace to everything. I find it tiring, and I think it must wear on people to say it all the time.” Jules looked at himself in the mirror.

  Scott laughed. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I fear that my Master might take some offence if I did not afford you the appropriate title.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose I shall have to live with it. I don’t make my servants hold to such things when we are within my home. It takes up far too much time to have people saying such all the time.” Jules sighed. “It is nice to have some of my other things back. I fear that I might never see my hat again, though.”

  A frown settled on Scott’s face. “Did you come in with one, Your Grace?”

  “I honestly have no idea,” Jules admitted. “I suspect it probably fell off in the alley. With all the rushing it is likely that it was left behind.”

  Scott offered, “I could send a couple of the boys to look for it, Your Grace?”

  “No, no,” Jules said as he waved off the suggestion. “I think I have put your household out quite enough as is. It is just a hat, and judging by my experience that alley might not be the safest place in London.”

  Scott bowed his head to accept what Jules had said. Jules patted the man’s shoulder with great affection. “It was well met that you should think so of me, Scott. My offer still stands.” Jules said the last part with a grin that caused Scott to laugh.

  “You are a most strange nobleman, Your Grace.” Scott shook his head.

  Jules nodded. “Having met quite a few nobles, I take that as a compliment.”

  Scott did not seem to know how to take Jules’ jesting. Jules was about to attempt a change of subject when there was a knock on the door. Scott was quickly over to the door as Jules turned a questioning glance towards him.

  A maid that Jules did not readily recognise dipped her head at Scott. “Lady Winchester has requested that His Grace meet her in the foyer as soon as possible.”

  Scott looked over at Jules who nodded his assent. “We shall be down shortly, Meg.”

  “Very good,” Meg said with a quick curtsy before she disappeared back down the hall.

  Once the door was shut, Jules crinkled up his forehead. “I wonder what that is all about.”