Chapter Eighteen

P enelope sat alone at the breakfast table, wondering how long she should wait for the Duke. She’d expected him to be shocked, certainly, that she’d recovered her memory all of a sudden – but she had not expected him to simply run from the room.

Did he know her parents, and that was the reason for his surprising reaction?

Or did he not believe that she had really regained her memory…or that she had ever lost it in the first place?

That had been her chief concern, but surely in that case, he would have been angry with her – not taken himself off for an impromptu walk through the grounds, something which she knew was very out of character for him?

Her stomach was churning too much to eat, so she simply sipped her tea and hoped he would soon return.

Unfortunately, the large window in the dining hall faced the back of the estate, and not the loch, which was where she had seen him heading when he had left the study, so she had not laid eyes on him in quite some time. Every now and then the footman would appear to see if anything was needed, and, Penelope thought, to check whether the Duke had yet appeared, but apart from that, she was left entirely alone.

It was only when she gave up on waiting for him and her appetite to return, and left the dining hall, that she saw him.

He was standing in the doorway of the castle, looking frozen with indecision. When he saw her, he turned red, and she wondered if she should say something – although she had no idea what.

"Join me in the library," he said eventually, before turning and heading towards the open door without a backward glance.

She did not like being ordered around, but she followed him anyway, needing to know what was behind his response.

She closed the door behind her, even though of course she should not be alone with him in a confined space, but he did not seem to notice. He was pacing, and she rather thought he was nervous – something she had not seen in him before.

"I’m sorry if I shocked you this morning," she said, when he did not seem to be ready to speak. "I was surprised myself to suddenly know who I was, and thought I should tell you without haste."

The Duke nodded. "Indeed. You were right to. My shock came…" He stopped pacing, and indicated a chair by the fire. "Please, sit." He sat down himself on a wingback chair opposite, and crossed his legs. "Lady Penelope," he said, and it was rather a shock for her to hear his name on his lips, after so many days of it not being spoken. "You must realise, now you have regained your memory, what a precarious position we are in."

"Oh?"

"You are – to the best of my knowledge – an unwed daughter of an earl, who is presumably expected to make a wonderful match."

She nodded. "Yes, I believe that is the expectation. Although so far, I have not been successful."

"And now you have been here, alone, with me, for five whole days. It does not matter that nothing has happened to besmirch your reputation, the mere fact of you being here has done that. You will be ruined, Lady Penelope, thanks to your time here."

Penelope had considered that already, of course. But she did not know why he was in such a panic; it would hardly impact him if she were ruined. And she was already hoping to meet him socially in an approved setting, in order to set the wheels in motion for a real match between them…

And then none of this would be a problem.

"I will just be vague about where I was, Your Grace," she said. "I can say I washed up on the shore, that you rescued me even, but that I stayed at an inn. There is no reason for anyone to come and search for the truth…"

He shook his head and sighed. "I am afraid, Lady Penelope, that you hold a far more charitable view of the world than I do. Even if you were to be believed, and I am not sure any parents would accept such a story, the fact that you were alone at an inn for all this time would be enough to raise doubts over your virtue. Do you not see?"

Penelope bit her bottom lip. "I had not thought of that," she said softly, both in answer to the Duke but also to herself.

Could he be right? Society could be cruel, she knew that – but would she be ruined, no matter what happened? She didn’t want to wed some nameless faceless man whom she had only danced three dances with, but neither did she wish to live at home until her father passed, and then find herself homeless and unwed, the burden of some male cousin – if he chose to take care of her.

"I believe there is only one course of action, to save your reputation and ensure there is no damage to mine," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I think we must marry."

◆◆◆

Her face, which had gone pale at the thought of her impending ruin, flushed red at his words. He had been unsure whether or not it was the only answer, until the words came out of his mouth – but of course it was. She ought not to be ruined because she’d ended up washed up on his shores, and he should not have his good reputation dragged through the mud.

And marrying her didn’t seem like a terrible outcome. Perhaps not what he had planned, but she was certainly attractive, and came from a good family, and would know how to comport herself as a duchess – once she’d stopped wandering off and getting into trouble, of course.

"You do?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

"It is the only option that makes sense. I presume you are not already betrothed to anyone?"

"No," she said, her voice still quiet. "No, I am not betrothed."

"Well. Then there’s nothing stopping us. I don’t want your reputation to be worried, because of this time we have spent together. And I… I think we could suit."

"You do, Your Grace?"

He nodded curtly. "We have got along well enough. We could make a marriage work…and no one’s reputation would be damaged." He paused, and then continued to add, "And you should probably call me James, if we are to wed."

When he’d said that she needed to go, making an offer of marriage had not been on his mind.

Things had changed. He had changed. For one, there was the fact that she was a woman of some consequence, and if he did not marry her, he would be in dereliction of his duty as a duke and a gentleman.

For another, the news that Thomas had brought him had made him reconsider things. He wasn’t ready to confront Mrs Simmons yet, but he had looked at the evidence, and it did indeed seem plausible that the child was his father’s.

And so, the thought of having a legitimate heir – and soon – appealed more than it had a few days earlier. Not that he thought anyone would question his legitimacy, but if this information became public knowledge... Far better to have a reputable wife and an heir on the way before it did.

At least, that was what he told himself was the reason. In truth, there was more to it than that. He had enjoyed her being at the castle, even if he had tried to deny it. And the thought of her being there permanently was certainly not unpleasant.

"I knew all along that you were a good person, in spite of your rather gruff manner, James."

James was about to agree with her, to comment that his bark was certainly worse than his bite, when her words made him pause.

"What do you mean, you always knew?" he asked with a frown. She flushed bright red and looked at the floor, and he knew he had caught her in some sort of lie.

But what was it that she was hiding?

"I didn’t mean..." she began, but without much confidence.

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you know who I was when you arrived here? Was gaining a proposal of marriage your aim all along?"

She shook her head rapidly. "No, no, not at all. I didn’t mean it like that, I–"

◆◆◆

"Something doesn’t add up, Lady Penelope," the Duke said, his voice turning icy cold.

Penelope shivered and bit the inside of her lip. She was frantically trying to figure out how to rectify this. After all, she had slipped up before and made it through without alerting him to the fact that she knew who she was.

"I just meant...that when I met you, you seemed rather harsh, but once I got to know you, and you reacted so... I mean, you passed... I mean–" She was tripping over her words, and she knew it, getting herself into more and more trouble with every attempt.

"The truth, please. Now," the Duke demanded.

She swallowed. This was it. She needed to either carry on with the lie and fully convince him or admit to what she had done and hope that he forgave her. He had, after all, offered marriage. He was a good man. Surely he would forgive her this harmless bit of fun?

"I did not know who you were when I arrived – not until your staff told me. And I certainly did not come here looking for a husband. But when I realised I’d have the opportunity to get to know a titled gentleman without the pressure of society, I could not resist utilising it. I just wanted to see what it was like to befriend someone, to know more about them than whether they liked to ride or how well they could dance. That was all," she said pitifully, not meeting his eyes, which she knew from a brief glance were full of anger. Anger towards her. Anger that she probably deserved.