Chapter Twenty-Eight

T hey stood on the edge of the dance floor, as couples milled around switching partners for the next set, and James knew this was the moment. He’d decided, back at Dunloch, that he wanted to forgive her. To try to start their married life properly – and put her lies behind them.

He hated deception more than anything, and yet now he found he could not imagine his life without her in it. However much he wished she had not lied to him, perhaps her ruse had served its purpose – allowed them to get to know one another properly.

And he knew she was the woman he wanted to marry.

"If you can promise not to lie to me again, no matter the reason," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "Then I would like to see if we can be happy together…" Her eyes lit up, and he pushed on with his thought, even though it felt rather unnatural to share so much of what he was feeling. "Because I realised that, due to your plan, we had already been living together happily."

He wanted to kiss her there and then, not caring about the onlookers, but instead he simply held out his hand for hers. "Shall we dance, Lady Penelope?"

"Two dances in a row…people will talk," she said with a grin.

"Let them talk. We will be married very soon – I do not care what they say."

It was then that a tall, dandified gentleman approached and gave an over-exaggerated bow to Penelope.

"Lady Penelope," he drawled. "I was hoping to have the honour of the next dance."

"No," James answered immediately, surprising himself at the force in his voice. "Her next dance is taken."

Not seeming to be perturbed, the gentleman continued to address Penelope. "Another you have free then, later in the evening."

"She has no dances free," James responded, leading Penelope onto the dance floor without looking back.

◆◆◆

Penelope could not help but giggle, as Lord Lindon, a gentleman she had danced with occasionally when in London, stood and gawped as they walked away.

"Well, that will certainly have people talking," she said in an undertone to the Duke – James – as they began to dance.

"Did you want to dance with that fool?" he asked.

She shook her head. She was more than happy to save every dance for him – whether or not society frowned upon such possessive behaviour.

"My parents are watching," Penelope said, catching sight of them out of the corner of her eye. "You will have to be properly introduced to them, after this next dance…"

He nodded curtly. "Indeed. And perhaps I should have a word with them about not letting their daughter go wandering quite so freely…"

Penelope felt her cheeks flushing, but he smiled then, and her heart soared. He was poking fun. He wanted to be her husband, wanted her to live with him at Dunloch, to put the mistakes of the past behind them and begin their future together.

And she could not wait.

"I am sure, once I am a duchess, I will be far less flighty," she promised with a grin.

"Indeed you will be. I’ll see to that."

"When can we be wed?" she asked, impatient now to start the life she knew belonged to her.

"The banns have been read. We can leave for Scotland tomorrow, and be married as soon as we return," he said. It was the answer she had expected, and yet there was some disappointment in her heart. The journey to Scotland was not quick, and would have to be made separately, for proprieties’ sake.

"Or," the Duke continued, making her look up into his dark eyes. "We could apply for a special license. Marry here in London, with your parents, and my sisters and aunt in attendance. And then go home…together. If that is what you wish."

She reached for his hands, even though the dance did not call for such a move, and squeezed them tightly. "It is very much what I wish."

When one was marrying a duke, things could be arranged with great haste – and that was how Lady Penelope found herself in a new gown, at a small chapel near St James’s Park. Her father stood beside her, ready to walk her down the aisle, where the Duke of Dunloch was waiting for her. The man she knew better than any other – and yet a man she had not even kissed.

She had spent her adult life knowing that she would one day marry, and had not wanted to marry a man she did not know. And then she had thought she would marry a man she cared deeply for, and have to be separated from him.

But somehow, she was about to marry a man she had lost her heart to – and then they would live their life in the beautiful Dunloch Castle, surrounded by nature and beauty and away from society.

And she couldn’t be happier.

Oh, she knew she would miss her beloved Amblewood, but they could visit, and being mistress of her own castle, and a castle she loved as dearly as Dunloch, was another dream come true.

She had never been more sure of anything in her life than when she entered the quiet little chapel, with only a handful of guests in the pews, and walked towards the Duke of Dunloch.

He was the man she was supposed to marry, she was sure of it, and it had just taken a twist of fate to find him. Well, fate, a poorly-timed excursion in a boat, and a few half-truths…

But there would be no more lies between them, she had promised that. And as she promised to love, honour and obey him, in front of his sisters and aunt and her own parents, her heart fell full of joy.

And that was something she had not thought she would experience in the grey streets of London.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the vicar said, and Penelope’s heart began to race.

She was his.

They were wed.

Everything had worked out.

He leant forwards and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her lips, and she felt like she might explode into flames right there at the front of the chapel.

To applause from their small number of guests, Penelope and James processed back down the aisle, her arm threaded through his, and to the carriage that was waiting to take them to her mother and father’s townhouse, where they would celebrate their marriage before returning home.

Home.

"We do not have to stay at this celebration too long, do we?" James asked as the carriage rattled on his way.

Penelope laughed. She found his blunt nature surprisingly endearing. "You do not wish to celebrate?" she asked.

"You know I do. But I long to be back in Dunloch, away from all these people."

"All of them?" she asked lightly.

"Well, all apart from my duchess," he said, tipping her head back and kissing her thoroughly, until she forgot who she was altogether, all the way to Mayfair.