Penelope could not imagine a young boy thinking about his actions in relation to a title he would one day have. She had always known she was the daughter of an earl, but it had not stopped her enjoying life where she could. Even when her parents disapproved.
"Surely a boy of four thinks more of fun and games than of duty?"
"That’s not the way I was raised," he said, and although his tone was a little sharper, she found herself feeling sorry for him. "My parents were chiefly concerned with making sure I was ready to be duke. That was the focus of every lesson, every meal, every conversation…"
Penelope could not hide her frown. Had his whole life really been boiled down to his title? It seemed it had, and she thought that was incredibly sad – but he didn’t seem to see any issue with it.
"And what about your sisters?" she asked softly, her food forgotten on her plate, growing cold as they spoke. "Did they ever get into mischief?"
"They can be rather silly," he said dismissively, cutting into his chicken pie as he spoke. "And of course, no one expected much of them, so they were allowed to be frivolous. And then our parents passed on, and they continued viewing everything as an opportunity for fun, rather than seeing that they have a place in it. A role they must fulfil."
"Whether it makes them happy or not?"
He looked up and his dark eyes met hers. "Not everything in life can be about happiness. Sometimes one has duties to discharge."
Penelope nodded slowly.. "Yes…but surely life cannot be about duty alone either? There must be some balance?"
She did not know if he agreed with her or not, for he then seemed to find his appetite, and all conversation was lost.
She still did not know, she thought later that evening, whether or not he had a sense of humour – but she thought she understood him better, and why he was so serious about his role as a duke. Of course it was important, but there were other things in life that were important too, and he seemed to have been raised as though nothing else truly mattered.
Rain pattered against the windowpane as Penelope lay in the grand four-poster bed, contemplating her next move.
She had realised, rather to her shock, that her testing of the Duke had been successful. She knew him now, and he had proven himself to be a decent man.
But what was more, she thought she actually felt something for him – something more than she had felt for any man of her acquaintance in the seasons she had spent in London. The two and half days she had spent with him in some ways seemed so brief, but how long would it take her to spend such an amount of time with a gentleman in society? Months? She might not spend that amount of time with a man before the banns were being read.
It was then that she began to question what she had been doing. Yes, it had been successful – but she couldn’t help but wonder what the cost would be of her deception. If the Duke found out that she had been at his home for days and lied to him all that time, would he forgive her?
She rolled over and sighed into her pillow. She didn’t even know whether he had any feelings towards her at all, other than perhaps irritation at her descending upon his life and often being found where she shouldn’t be.
But was there anything more? Did he feel what she wanted him to feel? If she had to get married, she wanted someone who liked her, cared for her, loved her even, for herself – not for her title or her money.
And she knew he could not like her for any of those things, for he didn’t know about them. But she had tried, in spite of her deception, to show him her real self…and yet she had no idea whether or not he was attracted to her.
She still wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t already married. She rather wished his sisters were in residence, for she thought she would find out much more useful information from them than she possibly could from him. And none of the staff seemed keen to gossip about their master either, so there was nothing to be learned there.
In the distance, a dog howled, and she shivered a little.
He had saved her life when the horse had bolted, she had no doubt about that. But would he want anything to do with her once she revealed her identity and admitted the lie? Sooner or later, she had to remember who she was and go home.
But what if she never saw him again? She could not now imagine marrying another man, one whom she barely knew past a few pleasantries, when she had got to know James and was becoming more convinced that they could be a good match. He was a good man, and she thought she could be good for him. She could make him see the fun in life, if he let her.
Chapter Fourteen
It was strange how quickly it felt normal to have the mysterious woman opposite him at breakfast. She would then go about her business, and they would reconvene at luncheon, and she would be waiting for him with a smile and questions about his day.
Was this what it was like to be married? He had never thought much about marriage, except for knowing that it was something he must do, in time. He had thought of how he would select an appropriate match, and the qualities she would need to have – good breeding, an understanding of what the title brought with it, an impeccable reputation – he had not given any thought to life living with a wife. A partner.
Someone who would always be there, and would ask him about his day, and sit and converse before the fire on the long Scottish winter evenings…
He hadn’t thought it would ever be something he would desire.
And yet, with her here, as temporary as it was, it made him think about it…and to wonder if, perhaps, it was time to start contemplating marriage more seriously.
"It seems, Your Grace, that it was an outright lie."
James frowned. His butler, Richards, had asked to see him about Mrs Simmons, and the outcome of sending his man of business to deal with the villainous Mr Cavin.
