Page 54 of An Offer By the Beastly Duke

“Good. I shall notify Papa today.”

After the game, Penelope found Nicholas practicing his parry with a particularly sturdy mallet that was not being used.

“Nicholas,” she called out. Her son perked up at his name, coming closer. “We are going to London for a short time.”

He looked up, his eyes wide. “But… but what about Hector? He will remain here, will he not?”

“He will,” she sighed, seeing Nicholas’ shoulders falling. “Hector lives here, darling. His Grace’s dog cannot come with us.”

“Right.” He processed this with a small frown. “But we shall come back before the lessons stop? He said I could hit the center of the target by next month.”

“We will come back,” Penelope swore.

We have to come back, she thought to herself.

He returned to his mallet, satisfied.

A moment later, Mr. Ashton appeared with a letter on a silver tray. Penelope recognized the seal of her brother-in-law before she even picked it up. She broke it open, her stomach turning.

“Your correspondence?” Violet prompted, appearing at her elbow. “Ah, that is from Charles.” Her eyes wandered to the signing signature.

Penelope folded the paper tight. “Indeed. He is traveling to Scotland on business. He says he will call on his return to see Nicholas.” She paused, her jaw tightening. “He was not asking for a convenient time. He was stating an intent.”

Violet’s face soured. “I never liked him. He has the eyes of a man who counts the silver while one is talking to him.”

“Nicholas likes him even less. And with the Duke’s lessons, if Charles finds out, he shall use it against me, and call it improper. I imagine he will use it as leverage for the guardianship.” She looked toward the southern hedge, toward Brigrock. “Only he could find a way to make a gift look like a scandal.”

She looked at her son, still fighting his invisible duel.

“At least we’ll be in London when he returns,” Violet assured her, though it felt like a hollow victory. “We will not be here for him to call on.”

She said it like a plan.

But Penelope knew, in the cold corners of her mind, it was only a stay of execution.

Chapter Seventeen

“You are thinking about her again. What is it this time? The eyes, the hair, the⁠—”

Malcolm tightened his grip on Benedict’s forearm and executed a sharp, economical pivot to silence him. He put his friend on the ground with a resounding thud.

Benedict hit the grass with a grunt, rolling to dissipate the momentum, and lay still for a moment with his eyes fixed on the pale, overcast London sky. He was breathing hard, the exertion of their sparring session flushing his face.

Malcolm, by contrast, was not. He stepped back and straightened his linen shirt, which had come untucked at the hip, and looked down at his friend.

Benedict wheezed from the ground, a lopsided grin pulling at his mouth. “You just proved that my suspicions are correct. That was unnecessary force for a friendly bout.”

“I pinned you in under a minute,” Malcolm said, his voice level.

“You pinned me in under a minute because I was trying to get you to drop your guard by mentioning Lady Romwich, and instead you went for my arm rather than my shoulder. You were not thinking at all, Malcolm. You were reacting.” Benedict raised one finger to punctuate the air. “Which is precisely what thinking about a woman does to a man of your volatile constitution.”

Malcolm looked at him, his grey eyes narrowing into cold slits.

Benedict immediately held up both hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “I know. I know. The Duke of Brigrock does not have feelings; he only has tactical objectives. My apologies.”

He climbed to his feet with dignity, despite making his peace with the dirt. He retrieved his coat from the stone bench and shrugged back into it, examining a fresh grass stain on the elbow with a sigh of weary acceptance.

“You know,” Benedict said, brushing at the wool, “most men, when they lose, make some grand excuse. Wind direction. Uneven turf. A sudden cramp.” He gestured loosely at the garden. “You could try that. It would make you seem more human.”