Chapter Nineteen

"A re you saying," he said slowly, anger filling his body, "that you have known who you are the entire time you’ve been here?"

If it were possible, Lady Penelope grew even redder, and her eyes began to dart around as if looking for an escape.

"Not exactly…"

"Not exactly!" James roared. "And what does that mean? You knew for half the time? A day? Were you pretending to be unconscious in that boat, and the whole situation has been nonsense?"

She shook her head. "No, no, I was unconscious. I went out in my boat, thought nothing of the storm clouds, and lost control. I was fighting to get back to the shore, and then… And then everything went black. The next thing I remember was waking up on that beach, with you hovering above me."

How was he to know what to believe? Had every word that had come out of her mouth been a lie? Was she really who she said she was? He had no way of knowing.

"So you woke up on the beach, knowing exactly who you were and where you came from?"

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

"Why?" he asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Even in his fury, he was mindful of the fact that she was a lady, and it would not be appropriate for him to shout expletives, as much as he wished to. "Were you trying to trick me into marriage? Did you think – quite rightly, too – that if we were alone together for long enough, I would have to propose matrimony?" he asked in disgust. "And you so innocently pretended that you had no idea your reputation was at risk. What nonsense."

There were tears in Lady Penelope's eyes, and yet he could not bring himself to feel sorry for her, nor to moderate his tirade. She had lied to him, and he had trusted her. Been taken in by…what? A sweet smile and a fake story? He would not have thought himself such a fool, but apparently, he was.

"I had no intention of trapping you into marriage," she said tearfully. "If you'll recall, I didn’t even know who you were or whether you were already wed when you rescued me on the beach."

In a more reasonable frame of mind, he might have acknowledged that was indeed true – but he was in no mood to be reasonable.

"That doesn’t mean you didn’t decide to lie once you knew I was a duke. Once you knew there was a title and money up for grabs," James said coldly.

◆◆◆

Penelope did not think anyone had ever spoken to her so coldly, harshly, and without letup.

She did not want to cry in front of him, but she could not control her emotions. She hadn’t meant to let on that there had been any sort of plan at all, and her worst fears were coming true: he did hate her for deceiving him. And he believed her capable of much more devious deception than she had planned. It was all meant to be harmless fun… and yet it had turned into such a mess.

Moments ago, she had been thrilled that he had suggested they marry. It was not, perhaps, the most romantic of proposals, but it was the first proposal she felt she could accept. She knew the man behind the words, and she was willing to marry him, to be tied to him for the rest of her life.

And yet now, that very same man hated her, and she was in the position of having her reputation ruined with no happily ever after. And really, she only had herself to blame.

"I wasn’t trying to trick you into marriage," she insisted again. "I simply thought…" Why was it so hard to put into words? "This will be hard to understand for a man, I am sure. But I’m expected to marry someone I have never spent time alone with, someone I do not truly know. There is never an opportunity to deepen the connection before a betrothal is announced. And so I just thought…"

The Duke tapped his foot impatiently on the floorboards, and Penelope had to look away from his icy glare, for each dagger he was shooting her way was painful.

"I just thought that I could get to know a gentleman outside the rules of society," she continued feebly. "Not necessarily that I would marry him, just that I might see if he…if you…were the right sort of man to be considering."

She glanced up to see the Duke shaking his head incredulously.

"So it has all been some game to you? Playing pretend in a life that is not your own in order to – what? See what a man is like outside a ballroom?" He continued to shake his head. "And you expect me to believe that once you found out I was a duke, there was no thought in your mind that I would have to marry you, that both our reputations would be destroyed if anyone knew you had been here unchaperoned for so long?"

She continued to protest, but she could tell it was falling on deaf ears. "It was silly, I admit. But I wasn’t thinking like that, I promise. I truly thought I could just tell my family that I’d stayed at an inn, and it would be accepted. And then, perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?" he barked.

She shook her head. She could not tell him that she had thought to arrange a meeting between them where they might dance together, where he might propose marriage in the proper way. A situation where she could legitimately be confident that she knew the man and was happy to risk tying herself to him for the rest of her life.

It all sounded far too much like child’s play, and he was already angry enough with her. Besides, his fury was making her doubt herself a little. She had tested him and believed him to be a good man – and yet no one had ever spoken so cruelly to her. No one had ever been so unwilling to listen to her explanations. Granted, she’d never done anything quite this silly. But even so, surely he could have given her the benefit of the doubt.

"I am appalled that anyone could be so deceptive," he said, standing and reaching for the bell pull to call the footman. "You have done me a great disservice, Lady Penelope. You have taken advantage of my hospitality and my good nature, and still, you are deceiving me as to the real purpose of this ruse."

"I’m sorry," was all she could say, tears streaming down her cheeks.

There was a brief knock at the door, and then a footman entered, concealing his surprise at Lady Penelope's distress well.

"Please call for the carriage to be readied, Trent," the Duke ordered. "Lady Penelope will be leaving immediately."

And without even a word of goodbye, he stormed from the room, leaving the distraught Penelope to face up to what she had done.

◆◆◆

The staff were polite to her, but word must have spread about the altercation in the library. None of them asked if she was well or the cause of her distress.

She was handed into the carriage, and it seemed the driver was already apprised of where she lived, for he started on the journey without so much as a word from her.

Inside the carriage, with no reading or sewing to distract her, Penelope sat and sobbed.

What had she done? And what was she going to tell her parents?

She’d had a plan when she’d entered into all of this. She would test him, and then she would know what sort of man he was. And if she thought he was a suitable candidate for marriage, she would ensure such a thing could be arranged. She had not planned for her name to be ruined, nor for the Duke to be so furious with her that he banished her from his home.

What a fool she had been. She should have just told him her name as soon as she opened her eyes on that beach, and then he would have sent her home, and none of this would be happening. True, she would not have got to know him or discovered his character, but neither would she be facing life as a ruined woman on the edge of society, and quite possibly with a broken heart to boot.

Because she was sure that in the handful of days she had spent with the Duke, she had begun to hold real feelings for him. Feelings that she had never had for anyone else because she had never known anyone like she knew him. One could have an acquaintance over several months and never spend as much time with a gentleman as she had done with the Duke on this escape from her life.

It had been exactly as she had thought – getting to know someone took more than a dance or two, and should surely be done before the marriage vows were said.

But nothing had worked out the way she had planned. And now she had a long carriage ride alone, with tears streaming down her face and far too much silence to contemplate the reality of what she had done and where it had led her.