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“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Lady Penelope answered. “I hoped we might have a few minutes to… talk.”
Curious as to the reason she would choose to approach him in the middle of the night—and assuming it was because she didn’t want her father to know—he nodded to Susanna that it was all right to leave Lady Penelope where she was. Then he stepped aside.
The duke’s daughter smiled nervously as she moved past him.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“Please.”
She sounded almost desperate in her eagerness. He’d noticed her preoccupation with alcohol earlier—as well as her father’s disapproval of how much she drank—but he poured her a brandy to be polite. He wanted to learn why the duke was so anxious to have them marry and thought she might tell him.
“Thank you.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze when he handed her the glass.
“What did you come to talk about?”
After downing the brandy as if it were water, she set the glass aside, turned and slipped off her robe.
The nightgown was more than filmy—it was transparent.
“Lady Penelope, I highly doubt your father would approve of this, and I would never abuse his trust.” He bent to retrieve the wrap she’d let fall to the floor, but she stopped him.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am. I have nothing but respect for you and your father and would never—”
She threw back her head and laughed, which caused him to fall silent. “Who do you think sent me here?” she asked.
Truman straightened. “Your father told you to offer yourself to me like this?”
“Why not? We are betrothed. That’s all that matters to him.”
The alarm bells that had been going off in Truman’s head earlier rang loud and clear. “If all goes as planned, we will be married in June. Why are you here before we even have the chance to get acquainted?”
She lifted her chin. “You don’t want me?”
He couldn’t say that he did. She was attractive enough. It was Rachel that stood in the way. He feared she’d ruined him for all other women. His pulse quickened the moment he thought of her lying beneath him—but Lady Penelope stood all but naked in front of him and he felt nothing except the urge to cover her up and preserve her dignity. “I am trying to behave in as honorable a fashion as I can.”
She shrugged. “Or you’re getting your fill from your little trollop.”
“Don’t call her that.” The words came out before he could stifle them, but they didn’t evoke the response he expected.
Her eyebrows arched. “Your quick defense of her does you credit. So she means something to you.”
He sighed. “She means a great deal.”
“Which is probably why my father sent me. He’s not stupid. He knows I must compare favorably, or we could lose you yet.”
“What I don’t understand is why your father is so set on this match.”
She helped herself to more of his brandy. “A woman isn’t worth anything unless she has a husband and children.”
“There are other men.”
“What would you say if I told you I don’t want any man?”
“You’d rather be single for the rest of your life?”
She held up her glass and laughed. “I didn’t say that.”
“What am I missing?”
“I’ve been compromised, Truman, and my father is terrified that word will get out.”
This time when he reached for her wrap, she let him retrieve it. She even accepted it and put it on. “You’re in love with someone else,” he said.
“Yes. And given that you are, too, maybe you can have some compassion for me.”
Was he in love with Rachel? So far he’d refused to name what he felt, refused to tell Rachel because it would be selfish to give her false hope. He couldn’t put his own wants and desires over his duty, wouldn’t be able to respect himself if he did. But he couldn’t deny that he felt far more for her than he had any other woman. “Who is your lover?”
“I won’t name her.”
He grabbed her arm. “Her?”
Her eyes lowered to his hand, but she didn’t try to shake him off, and she didn’t correct him. That was when he finally understood what was driving the duke. His Grace wanted to make a match for his daughter and send her off into the middle of nowhere before news of her sexual persuasion could come out. That was what the duke deemed a fair trade for saving Truman’s neck.
“Was he not going to tell me you’d prefer to have a woman in your bed?”
“Of course. He wouldn’t risk having you find out after the wedding and petition for an annulment on those grounds. He plans to tell you tomorrow.”
“Once you’ve proven that you won’t deny me my marital rights.”
“You catch on quickly. His name and support will give you the protection you need to avoid prosecution for Katherine’s death—no proof required. And I will give you an heir, regardless of what gender I prefer in my bed.”
“Marriage lasts a long time. What of your happiness? What of mine?”
She gave a bitter snort. “We each have a family name to protect.”
But at what cost?
“What will you do now that you know?” she asked.
“I will do what I was going to do anyway,” he replied.
“And that is… ?”
“Tell your father I can’t marry you.”
The glass slipped from her hands but she didn’t even flinch when it hit the floor. He got the feeling she was too intoxicated to react abruptly to much of anything. Maybe she’d thought alcohol would help her get through the night. “But you must,” she whispered.
“I made the mistake of marrying for the wrong reasons once,” he said. “I can’t do it again.”
“But you could hang! The Abbotts will not go away simply because you want them to. If only you knew how determined they are.”
“I’m fully aware of what’s at stake.”
“You’re that certain you’ll be able to prove your innocence?”
“I’m not certain at all.”
“Then you’re willing to go to the gallows for this… shopkeeper?”
He drew a deep breath as he considered the question, but the truth was finally clear—at least in one regard. “If need be. Like you said, I’m in love with her.”
