When he first found her, when she opened her eyes and saw him above her, she hadn't been sure where she was or even who she was.
But now… She didn't know where she was. And she had no idea whohewas. But she was sure that she was Lady Penelope Strachan. And yet, she did not tell him that.
She wasn't entirely sure why. At first, it had certainly been because she was unsure. But now… Part of her thought it would be better to keep her identity hidden so that her reputation would not be ruined by this incident.
He helped her onto his horse and then vaulted on behind her, wrapping his arms around her in order to hold the reins, and setting off at a brisk pace in the direction of a castle on the horizon.
Did he live there, she wondered? Or was he merely going to the nearest place for help? She struggled to control her teeth chattering or her body shivering. She could think of nothing but getting warm, of removing her sodden clothes and sitting far too close to a very hot fire.
He was right; she had been a fool to go out in weather like that. And if she kept her identity secret, perhaps no one else would ever need to know.
She could warm up, find out where she was, and make her way home – perhaps even before her parents realised she was missing.
Not that she knew how long she'd been out in the boat, for she had been unaware of time passing for a while, she was sure of it. And from the way her stomach rumbled, she was sure it had been a long while since she had eaten.
"Where are we?" she turned her head to ask, and she felt his deep, rumbling reply reverberating through her body. "Dunloch," he said, urging the horse up a steep path. "That's Dunloch Castle, up ahead."
Penelope frowned, trying to think whether she knew of a Dunloch Castle. She knew most of the castles of Northumberland, she was pretty sure of that – so this was surely a little further afield. By the sounds of it, perhaps over the border into Scotland. And yet, her rescuer did not seem to have a Scottish accent.
He dismounted in the courtyard of the castle and put his hands on her waist to help her down. She did not think she had ever been this close to a man before, and it was rather thrilling – being alone, and unchaperoned, with no one knowing who she was or expecting anything of her.
"You need to get warmed up, and quickly," he said, taking her by the wrist and leading her up the stone stairs and in through the arched doorway. So he obviously lived there, for he was confident enough to approach and walk in without knocking. He was dressed in fine clothes, and she wondered exactly who he was.
"In here," he said, leading her into a library with a fire roaring in the grate. He was clearly a man of few words, butin that moment she didn't care. She hurried towards the fire, sinking to her knees before it, and holding out her hands before the flames. They stung a little in shock as the heat reached them, but it was better than the biting cold. And it wasn't even winter yet… What would have happened to her had she been knocked unconscious in a storm and the weather had been icy? Perhaps she never would have woken up.
"I'll get you something to wear and something to eat," the man said, disappearing without giving her his name.
As she waited and thawed her icy limbs before the fire, her eyes wandered the room. He clearly liked to read, if this library was his. There were many volumes, far more than were held within Amblewood Castle. The arched window looked out onto a beautiful lake, and she thought that, were she feeling more herself, she would have quite liked to explore the grounds. If she was right, and she was indeed in Scotland, then it was an opportunity she had not had before. For she had been to Edinburgh before and attended balls, but she had never seen rural Scotland.
He returned with a green gown in his hands, and she wondered where he had found it. Was he married, and taking it from his wife's wardrobe? Or perhaps it belonged to his mother.
He shoved it in her direction, and she scrambled to her feet, taking it from him with a grateful smile.
"You can change in here. I've ordered some food and some wine to be sent up, but they won't come in without knocking." And then he was gone again, with Penelope still none the wiser as to how she should address him or whether she should be curtsying.
With some difficulty, since she was used to the help of a lady's maid, she removed her soaking dress. She considered keeping her slip on because it seemed rather scandalous to bewithout it in someone else's home, but it too was sopping wet, and she really did not wish to catch a chill.
Thankfully, the dress fit well, even if she did struggle to lace it herself. By the time the knock came at the door, she was trying to remove the remaining pins from her hair, and then combing her fingers through it to make herself look more presentable, and to allow it to dry.
"Come in," she called at the sound of the knock on the door.
A young man came in carrying a tray of steaming soup, with a large glass of wine and some bread to accompany it.
He bowed his head. "His Grace asked for something warming, milady," he said, placing the tray on a small oval table.
His Grace? So her mystery rescuer was a duke, was he? That was interesting information.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Might I trouble you for a hairbrush, too?"
He bowed his head sharply. "Of course, milady."
As she ate the soup, which was delicious, she pondered this situation she had got herself into. She was alone in a strange man's – no, strange duke's – house, unsure of exactly how far she was from home, and with no one any the wiser to her identity.
While her first thought had been to leave as soon as she was physically able, and to hope that her disappearance hadn't been noticed, she now thought again. She needed to find out how long she had been at sea, certainly. But perhaps it was too late for her parents not to worry. And perhaps she had here an opportunity that she had never had before and would never get again.
She could get to know this man, curmudgeonly as he seemed, without all the rules of society. She had wanted for a long time to see whether she would be more open to the idea ofa husband if she got to know him outside of a ballroom. And this duke, with no knowledge of who she was, her dowry or her title, might be the perfect chance to test that idea. Presuming he was not married, of course…but would a wife not have made herself apparent by this point, if she existed?
???
