Chapter Seventeen

P enelope noticed that James was rather quiet at supper, but she did not comment. It did not feel her place to say anything – and besides, she was rather preoccupied with her own concerns. She needed to make sure the recovery of her memory was believable if she wished for any goodwill from the Duke to remain once she left Dunloch Castle. After all, her notion of having him invited to dine at Amblewood, and perhaps having a traditional courtship, would not work if he hated her and wished to have nothing more to do with her.

So the two ate in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts, and when the meal was over, Penelope chose to retire early, claiming a headache.

In truth, her anxiety over the conversation she would have to have with him in the morning was getting to her, and she worried that the more time she spent with him – although she did wish to spend that time with him – the more likely it was she would say something to ruin everything. If her nerves became apparent, or if she slipped up and admitted something before the morning and the recovery of her memory, then all of this would have been for naught. She did not wish to leave with a broken heart, but she rather thought she was in danger of doing so.

How strange it was, she thought to herself as she mounted the stairs to bed, that one could not know a person even existed, and less than a week later, feel as though never seeing them again would be the worst thing of all.

She barely slept that night, knowing that she must go to him the following morning and reveal who she was. She had decided she wouldn’t tell him everything, just that she had regained her memory. She considered doing so after supper, but decided it was more realistic – not that she’d ever known anyone to lose their memory and then regain it – to be refurnished with her memories after a night’s sleep.

He was generally in his study most of the morning, and so she went there before going to the dining room, hoping to catch him before the day had begun. As she had expected, he was poring over paperwork before breaking his fast, and he looked up in surprise as she entered, obviously having expected one of his staff.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"Good morning. I have not sent for the doctor yet, I’m afraid, I thought to do it after breakfast…"

Penelope shook her head. "That’s not why I have come. Well, it is, I suppose."

He frowned, tapping his quill against his desk, and she tried to get to the point.

"I don’t believe sending for the doctor will be necessary."

"I must disagree, miss. You cannot indefinitely–"

"I have regained my memory," she said hurriedly, and his eyes widened.

"I see. Well that is a different matter. Who do you believe yourself to be?"

Penelope took a deep breath. "I am Lady Penelope Strachan."

He leant back in his chair. "And where do you live?"

"Amblewood Castle, in Northumberland."

He blinked and she wondered if she needed to expand, or if he knew of it.

"So…you are the daughter of the Earl and Countess Strachan?"

She nodded, although guilt flooded through her at the thought of her parents. She might not have always agreed with them, but she did love them dearly – and they had surely been worried sick while she’d been enjoying herself living life as someone else at Dunloch Castle.

"I must think," he said, abruptly pushing his wooden chair backwards and stalking from the room.

Penelope stood and watched him leave, hardly breathing. That had not been the reaction she had been expecting…

◆◆◆

The daughter of an earl and countess.

Why had he not considered such a possibility?

He strode from the house, out towards the loch, without even thinking where he was going. He just needed to be away from her, from the house – to have some space to breathe. For the second time in twelve hours, he felt like the breath had been ripped from his lungs.

There was still dew on the grass and he sent droplets flying as he stomped past the loch and away from the house.

Was she planning to trap him in marriage? He had known she was no commoner, but he had not thought she would be so highborn. He could not escape the fact that he had been living under the same roof as the daughter of an earl for nearly a week.

He’d known if anyone found out, it could be an issue. But now, he could not see how they would not find out. For he could send her home today – and he certainly would do so – but her parents were not going to accept her not telling them where she had been.

And once they knew, they would expect a proposal of marriage. Of course they would. He imagined himself in their situation. If one of his sisters had been unchaperoned with a gentleman for a significant period of time, no matter whether or not anything untoward had occurred, he would be insisting on marriage.

Or calling the man out if he refused.

James muttered an expletive under his breath and kicked a tree stump, which did nothing but make his foot ache.

He always thought everything through. Always. How had he not foreseen that keeping her – Penelope – in the house would inevitably cause trouble?

He did not want to be trapped into marriage. He was furious with himself, for not thinking of this, and with her, for putting him in this position.

And if there was a niggling voice in the back of his head that asked whether it would be so bad to marry her – especially since she was an eligible young woman, from what she said – he ignored it.

When he did marry, it would be well-planned, to a young lady who had been properly vetted and was the ideal candidate.

Not to some woman who washed up on the shore and turned his world upside down.

As he began to make his way back to the castle, he struggled to control his anger at himself. Why had he been so foolish? He had been judging his father for an ill-advised dalliance, but his own behaviour was equally questionable. Why had he not sent her to another nearby estate, with females in residence, and washed his hands of her immediately?

And why had he allowed this to go on for so long?

For surely he was left with two options now: marry the girl, or have her parents (and the rest of society) believe he was bringing shame to the dukedom.

And that was something he had been trained never to do.