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“Because I am ashamed of how little attention I have given you over the last few weeks, and I have had a brilliant idea,” the duke announced, holding up what looked to be a brand-new pair of leather riding boots.
“My Lord, I do believe those are far too small for you,” Penelope said. Even though she was cracking beneath the pressure put upon her shoulders, she couldn’t help smiling with amusement at the look on the duke’s face.
For almost a week, since the night they had shared dancing at the ball in London, she had only been relaxed when in the duke’s presence. His being closed to her allowed her to breathe, and she was starting to crave it more and more.
“That is because they are for you,” the duke announced, smirking at her playfully, and Penelope gulped past the sudden lump in her throat.I have never ridden a horse in my life!she thought as he added, “I thought we might ride out before breakfast before it gets too warm as it is such a beautiful morning.”
The change in the duke was absolutely astonishing to Penelope. While they had been in London, he had been quiet and sombre, seemingly stressed the entire time they were there and avoiding her like the plague until the very last night when something had finally switched inside him. Now he looked like the doting husband who couldn’t wait to do everything he possibly could to make his wife happy.
Unwilling to disappoint him, Penelope nodded, “I would very much enjoy that.”
Putting on as confident a front as possible, she put on the boots he had brought for her and allowed her husband to guide her out of the front of the manor where two horses were already tacked up and waiting for them in the care of one of the stableboys.
“My Lady.” The duke smiled, gesturing her forward and helping her up into the saddle of a most beautiful dappled grey mare. Penelope shivered at the way he touched her, holding her hand to help her walk up the wooden steps placed beside the horse.
It wasn’t until she was sitting upon the horse, her heart hammering in her throat, that she realised the sheer magnitude of her lie and found herself blurting, “My Lord, I have no idea how to ride!”
Even as she said the words, she slammed her eyes tight shut so she could not see his reaction. She did not miss the gasp from his lips and did not dare to open her eyes again until she was surprised to feel someone slipping onto the saddle behind her.
As she fluttered her eyes open, she glanced down to see the duke’s hands slipped around her waist to grip the reins. “Fear not, my love,” he assured her warmly, and she was surprised when he pressed his lips briefly to her cheek. “We can ride out together.”
Though she sensed something, perhaps even a little suspicion, the duke did not voice it, and she tried her hardest to push her anxiety down as she settled into the saddle.Perhaps he does not wish to embarrass me,she thought.
His muscular arms locked into place around her, and the next moment, she felt his feet kick the horse, his hands on the reins guiding the creature away from the wooden steps. Penelope’s heart remained in her throat, making her feel sick as the duke kicked the horse again, and it moved into a trot, turning down the lane that led to a nearby field at the side of the manor.
Penelope was more than a little surprised that the duke did not question her, that he did not wish to know why a French noblewoman did not have the skill to ride on horseback. Yet the longer they were atop the horse, the more at ease she began to feel, leaning back against her husband with a sigh of relief.
Chapter 26
That night, after a wonderful morning ride that left the duke feeling elated for the rest of the day, he still found he could not sleep. Over the last few days since their return to the countryside, he felt closer to his wife than ever, hopeful that finally things might be going the right way.
Determined not to lay abed again, growing frustrated, he waited until he was sure the servants had all retired to their own quarters before heading down to the kitchen to help himself to some warm milk.
As he drew to the bottom of the servants’ stairs, he began to wonder whether he had misjudged the time. Having carried down a candlestick of his own, prepared for the kitchens to be in total darkness, he was surprised to find a light glowing at the end of the hall where the main kitchen lay. Even more surprising was the sound of someone singing.
Well, that certainly isn’t Cartwright.Anthony chuckled to himself, and as he began to creep down the hall, hoping to learn who was singing so beautifully, he realised that whoever it was, they were singing in French.
“My Lady!” Anthony exclaimed with surprise the moment that he stood in the kitchen doorway.
Lady Rose whipped around, clearly started by his presence, and Anthony realised she had a wooden spoon in her hand.
“My Lord!” Lady Rose exclaimed, bowing her head respectfully, her cheeks turning red.
Anthony’s body was overwhelmed with desire the moment he saw her. She appeared so sweetly innocent, yet somehow so seductive and tempting in equal measure.
The blushing in her cheeks travelled down into her neck and across her chest, leading into her sheer chemise visible beneath her open silken dressing robe. Her beautiful glossy brown locks hung open in loose curls, and the urge to run his fingers through them made Anthony step forward.
Quickly catching himself having most inappropriate thoughts, Anthony stopped dead in his tracks and cleared his throat before asking, “Is that warm milk I can smell?”
Lady Rose looked up at him with surprise, and a small smile spread across her lips as she nodded and replied, “You have a good nose, My Lord. May I offer you a cup?”
“I was just coming to prepare some myself,” Anthony admitted before he slipped up beside her and suggested, “Let me?”
Before she could protest, he grabbed a thick cloth from close by and used it to grip hold of the milk pot on the stove. Lady Rose stepped back to allow him some room and added a second cup to the one she had ready on the countertop opposite. Anthony moved carefully to pour milk into both cups before returning the pot to the stove.
When he turned back, Lady Rose had already picked up both cups and was offering one to him. With a grateful smile, he took it from her and took a sip before exclaiming, “This might just be the most delicious warm milk I’ve ever tasted.”
“You flatter me, My Lord,” Lady Rose chuckled, her cheeks blushing an even deeper red. “I merely added cinnamon and honey. I hope you do not mind.”
