Chapter Twenty-Five

"W ell, if you wish to attend the ball, then of course we can," her mother said, surprise colouring her tone. "I hadn’t thought you would wish to, now that you have no need to find a husband…"

Penelope had not realised her dislike of society had been quite so apparent – but clearly she had not hidden it well from her mother, if she was so surprised by her wish to go to the Hampton Ball.

"I think it is important I am seen in society before I am duchess, as well as after," she said, hoping the hastily thought-up excuse made some sense to her mother, for it didn’t make any to her. She did not want to go to the ball, and she had no desire to dance or be the topic of conversation.

But she would put up with it all if it meant finding a way to persuade the Duke he could trust her.

She wore a gown of ice blue, and had her maid Mary braid her hair and then pin it up. She was pleased with her reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t that she wished to impress anyone in particular – for the man she wanted to impress was far away in Scotland – but she was determined that, from now on, she would not bring anything but positivity to the Duke’s title and reputation.

The ballroom was already busy, and Penelope immediately began to look for Cecily. The Duke's sister had certainly not seemed averse to helping her, so she could only hope that she had come up with a plan to do so.

"Goodness me, it is busy tonight," her mother commented, pulling out her fan and wafting it in her face. "Oh, look, I do believe that is Lord and Lady Gerald. They won't have heard the excellent news that Penelope is to be a Duchess. I think perhaps I will just go and share it with them."

"I just need to…" Penelope began, but coming up with an excuse seemed unnecessary; her mother was already moving across the dance floor to see the lady in question, and her father was close behind.

Penelope sighed. She wasn't altogether sure that it was the best idea to go around London bragging about the title she would soon have. After all, it wasn't as though it was any great achievement. In fact, she had come by it rather dishonourably, even if that had not been her intention. And she was not sure whether the Duke would want everyone learning of their marriage in such a way.

But for now, it served her purpose well to have her mother and father out of the way, and so she watched them go and then began to search for Cecily in earnest.

She found her by the refreshment table, wearing a pretty pink gown and accompanied by her aunt.

"Lady Penelope," Lady Fitzgerald said, balancing her weight on a cane held in her left hand. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Cecily had advised her that it was not prudent to tell her aunt the details of her match with the Duke, in case she disapproved and tried to meddle, and so when she had returned to Lady Fitzgerald's home for tea after walking in the park with Cecily, they had said nothing of their plan to meet at the ball.

"And you, Lady Fitzgerald," Penelope said with a polite curtsy.

"I had thought you would be on your way to Scotland by now," the old lady said, narrowing her eyes somewhat suspiciously.

Penelope supposed it was somewhat odd that she was so far from Dunloch Castle when she was to be wed so soon, but she had good reason to be in London – not that she could share that with Lady Fitzgerald.

"I shall be leaving soon," she reassured Lady Fitzgerald. "I am just waiting for some clothing I have ordered from the modiste before I leave. My parents are here with me tonight – the Earl and Countess Strachan. They would be honoured to make your acquaintance."

Cecily's aunt smiled at that. "Well, that is a good plan. I am far too old to be making the journey to Scotland, so I doubt I shall see the wedding – or indeed Dunloch Castle again. I should be pleased to meet your parents now, here in London."

Penelope did not point out that the wedding was to be a small affair, with no guests she knew of being invited, save her parents. She did not even think that the Duke planned to have his sisters in attendance, since he had not even told them of his betrothal, let alone arranged for them to return to Scotland – but explaining any of that would invite questions. For why would a duke marrying an earl's daughter want to keep the ceremony so small? It surely hinted at problems, or at the very least the whiff of scandal.

Penelope had no choice but to accompany Lady Fitzgerald to where her parents were and introduce them before she was finally able to make her escape and speak with Cecily. Uninterrupted, they stepped out together onto the balcony, in the guise of needing some air, and Cecily immediately turned to her, her eyes sparkling.

"I have a plan," she announced, and although those words had got Penelope into enough trouble already, her heart began to quicken. This was what she needed – a plan to win back the Duke's trust.

"My sister is here with us," Cecily continued. "I have just lost sight of her for the moment. Antonia – she is eighteen and has not been out in society long. And I am rather afraid that she is about to make a terrible match."

"Oh?" Penelope asked, rather surprised by this information. She was not sure how it could help her in her quest to win back the trust of the Duke.

"My brother wishes for us to wed," Cecily continued, "but I am quite sure he would not be keen on this match."

"Why not?" Penelope asked, beginning to see where she might come in useful.

"He is a notorious rake, and a gambler, and at least ten years her senior. But she believes herself to be in love with him, and nothing I have said so far has made any difference."

"You wish me to speak with her?" Penelope asked. "I will happily do so, but I can't see that she will listen to me, a woman she has not met before, if she ignores the advice of her sister."

Cecily shook her head. "No, I believe you are right there. I should like you to speak to him ."

Penelope's eyes widened. "I think I have misrepresented myself if you believe I am capable of talking a rake out of paying court to your sister, or indeed of making him listen to me at all."

She was keen to help Cecily and to win back the Duke's good favour. But this did not seem like a task she was well-suited for. She might have been silly, and foolish, and reckless when she had been at Dunloch – but that had all been rather out of character. She couldn't speak to a notorious rake and warn him off an eligible young lady.

"You know how much my brother values honour and our good reputation. I cannot tell him of this, for by the time he gets here, it may be too late to stop Antonia from doing something silly. She is young and flighty and believes only in romance and happy endings. But if you could make the man who has set his sights on her see that she is not alone and unprotected, that there will be consequences if he chooses to continue down this path, then I know my brother would be grateful. And so would I."

Penelope rather thought that Antonia would be less grateful, but she did not say so. She had to trust that Cecily knew what was best. And if this could save the Dunloch reputation, and prove to the Duke that she wanted only what was best for him… Well, then she supposed it was worth trying.

She nodded. "Very well. I will try – although I am not promising that I can be successful."

Cecily beamed.

"Excellent. I shall point them out to you."

"They are here tonight?" Penelope asked with a gulp. She had not expected to have to deal with the man so soon.

"Yes. Antonia does not attend many balls – my aunt does not want society to grow weary of her, as she believes it has done of me."

Penelope was beginning to feel rather sorry for the pretty sister of the Duke of Dunloch. For while her brother had been raised with all the expectations upon him, it seemed she had shouldered the brunt of the disappointment. Penelope reckoned she was two years or so younger than herself and so had been out in society long enough to attract a husband, if that was what she so wished – and it did seem that that was her aim. She wondered why she was yet unwed and spending the season with her elderly aunt rather than as a wife in her own home, hosting her own balls.

That was not a question for now. It would be presumptuous for her to ask – but Penelope promised herself that night that when she was Duchess of Dunloch, she would ensure Cecily found a worthy husband.

They turned to face the ballroom, and Cecily scanned the crowd. "There, that’s Antonia, in the green," Cecily said, pointing out a petite young woman with a mass of dark blond curls pinned up around her crown. She was surrounded by many gentlemen, all clamouring for a dance, and it seemed she would not have any trouble finding a husband.

Although, if Penelope could not help her, she might end up with the wrong one.

"And the gentleman in question?"

Cecily tutted. "I am not sure I would call him a gentleman, with the reputation he has…" She glanced around the room. "Aha, there he is. Just entering the ballroom and removing his top hat."

"In the velvet waistcoat?"

"That’s the one."

"And his name?" Penelope asked, steeling herself for this encounter which felt like it should be the domain of the dowagers in the room, not an unwed lady from Northumberland like herself.

"Mr Benjamin Pryce."

Mr Benjamin Pryce seemed to be watching the festivities from a distance, giving Penelope an easy opportunity to approach him without being overheard by anyone. She had never before approached a gentleman in a ballroom whom she had not already been introduced to, but this was not a normal situation. She needed to persuade this man that Antonia was not alone and unprotected, an easy target for whatever scheme he had in mind.

"Mr Pryce?" she said when she was before him, for it would not do to accuse the wrong man.

He frowned slightly, clearly well aware that they had not been introduced, but nodded all the same. "I am, yes. And you are…?"

"Lady Penelope Strachan," she said, forcing her voice to sound confident even though she did not feel so herself. "And soon to be the Duchess of Dunloch."

His eyes widened then, and she knew that using the title had been the right decision. Unlike her parents, she was not particularly keen on telling everyone they had ever met that she was soon to be a duchess. But at a time like this, the title – and the connection to the woman he was pursuing – would surely be useful.

He bowed and recovered himself to say, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Penelope."

Penelope did not say the same, for nothing about this conversation was a pleasure.

"I believe you are acquainted with my sister-in-law."

Mr Pryce narrowed his eyes. "I have been acquainted with all three of your sisters-in-law, Lady Penelope. Which lady is it of whom you speak?"

She was sure he was being deliberately obtuse, perhaps hoping that she would not wish to press him in a public setting and appear impolite.

But she was a desperate woman, and politeness did not currently concern her.

"Lady Antonia Cresham," she said icily.

"Ah." There was no denial.

"My betrothed does not believe it to be a good and equal match," she said. She knew she was presuming a little to use James's name in a matter of which he had no knowledge, but she trusted Cecily, and she had to trust that she was right about her brother's wishes.

For if she was wrong, not only would Penelope be meddling in Antonia's affairs, but she would also be seen as meddling in James's – something of which he already thought poorly. In fact, the longer she stood there challenging this man with very little evidence, the more she questioned whether this idea had been a good one or just another hare-brained scheme that would only get her into trouble.

"I do not know what Antonia has told you…" Mr Pryce began. "But there is nothing inappropriate about our acquaintance, I can assure you."

"Do you intend to ask for her hand in marriage?" Penelope asked boldly.

He hesitated. "It would not…at this time…be prudent…" He stumbled through his words, but she understood the gist. If he had planned to marry her, he was not going to ask her brother for her hand. Perhaps he had some elopement in mind; perhaps ruination so she no longer had a choice.

"I see. May I suggest, Mr Pryce, for your own sake as well as Antonia's, that if you do not have honourable intentions towards the lady, you stop pursuing her."

"If you are accusing me of dishonourable conduct, my lady, then I must–" he began, his face turning red.

"I am accusing you of nothing," Penelope said, amazed at her own ability to remain calm and cut through his nonsense. "I am merely suggesting that if you have no intention of asking the Duke for his sister's hand – and I cannot tell you what the answer to that question may be – that you do not entwine your names together any longer. The Duke is not a man who forgives easily. If crossed, he will not hesitate to use his power and influence to exact revenge, especially if the honour of one of his sisters is involved."

In truth, she did not know whether that was entirely true. She knew he did not forgive easily – she had fallen foul of that herself. And although he seemed to find his sisters a little frustrating, she thought he would act to protect them, especially if the good family name was in danger.

And she did not think he would want his sister to be married to a man such as this; a man who clearly did not plan on doing things the proper way but who seemed to hope to lure the eighteen-year-old into his trap without any comeuppance from her family.

Well, she would be her family now. James was not here, but she was.

"Do we understand each other, Mr Pryce?" Penelope asked.

"Yes, Your Grace," he said, clearly forgetting in his panic that she was not yet the duchess. "We understand each other. And I apologise for any… misunderstanding there may have been regarding my intentions towards Antonia. I am not looking for marriage, and if I danced with the girl, it was only to be polite."

Penelope's heart felt as though it might break for the girl she had not yet met, who had clearly believed herself in love with this cad – a man who had proven, at the first sign of questioning, that he was not devoted to her. His behaviour only confirmed what Cecily had said, and Penelope was relieved that she had trusted her doubts about the man.

"Well, I bid you good evening, Mr Pryce. I don't expect we shall see each other again."

She managed to keep a straight face even though she was cheering inside. She couldn't believe she had just intimidated a man she did not know and had been successful.

She returned to her parents, who were still conversing with Lady Fitzgerald, and signalled to Cecily with a nod that all was well.

And yet, in her heart, she was not sure it was.

Oh, she was fairly sure she had saved Antonia from, at best, heartbreak and embarrassment, and, at worst, scandal that would have ruined her forever. But she wasn't convinced she would win the Duke back with her good deed. Because she had certainly embellished the truth to persuade Mr Pryce that Antonia was not the woman for him. And would James not see it as further proof of her meddling?

Her high hopes of presenting him with evidence that she could be trusted fizzled before her. Perhaps there was no quick fix to the trust she had broken.