Page 94 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

After steeling himself and putting on a polite smile, Duncan landed three polite knocks on the door before pushing it open. “Are you still awake, Mrs. Humphrey? You shouldn’t work yourself too har-”

He pretended to freeze in surprise when his eyes landed on Lady Penelope, her hair pulled into a low chignon and a robe pulled over her nightgown. Her cheeks appeared dry—perhaps she had wiped them on her sleeve when she first heard his knocks? But their redness betrayed that she had been crying.

“Ah, Lady Penelope!” Duncan feigned surprise. “Hosting a private tea party, I see.”

She sat up straight in the rickety chair, a hand wrapped around the warmth of her teacup as she flashed him a pleasant smile. “Yes, Your Grace. I do hope my uproarious celebration didn’t wake you from your slumber.”

Her witty banter eased some of Duncan’s worries about her, but he wondered how he would broach the topic regarding the cause of her tears.

“May I ask what we’re celebrating?” he said with a forced grin.

“We?” she chuckled, raising a taunting eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” he answered firmly, grabbing a teacup of his own from the drying rack before joining her at the work table where she sat. “It must be a momentous occasion if you were willing to fight off your fear of the dark and journey all the way here from your room.”

A lock of hair fell in front of her face as Lady Penelope looked down at the teacup in front of her.

Duncan resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear, it was the sort of thing he would have done without thinking twice during the early days of their friendship. But Duncan had learned to be extra cautious since returning from his trip.

So instead of reaching for her, he reached for the teapot instead and began filling up his cup, refilling Lady Penelope’s as well while he waited for her response.

“I've found myself more afraid of... other things lately,” Lady Penelope finally answered, her honesty catching Duncan completely off-guard.

“What things? Is it your uncle again? Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered rashly before getting the chance to properly consider what he was saying.

“You said it best yourself...” she sighed bitterly. “Whatisthere to be done?”

Duncan pressed his cup to his lips, hoping to buy himself more time to think of a response. After taking his sip, he offered her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “Well, I doubt you are referring to the same issue as me when I made that remark. Surely, whatever’s bothering you now has a solution.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, framing her doe eyes which—much like his own—appeared exhausted. “Why, Your Grace? What exactly wereyoureferring to when you made that remark?”

Duncan’s hand froze around his cup as he realized that he had made a grave error.

CHAPTER32

Penelope could almost see how hard His Grace’s mind worked to answer her question. She had grown tired of being left confused and flustered by him, so she decided to ask him outright what on earth was going through that insufferable head of his.

But of course, the fact that she had asked him a direct question did not guarantee that he was going to give her a straightforward answer. Instead, his response came in the form of a question,

“Do you know where I went during my trip?”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. She was certainly annoyed at his blatant deflection, but she was also dying to know why he behaved so differently upon returning from it.

“You said that you had to go for business, correct?” she said with feigned casualness.

“Yes, well, I lied.” He smiled drily, absent-mindedly stroking the teacup in his large hands. “I spent a week at an inn near the Port of Kenstone where my... former fiancée now lives with her husband.”

All at once, Penelope’s mind flooded with a myriad of questions for him—it was almost dizzying. But she held her tongue, growing increasingly curious to see where the duke was going with this.

“While I was there, we spoke briefly twice.” He tilted his head upwards, almost as though his recollection was written on the ceiling. “Despite her father hating me until his dying breath for abruptly ending our engagement, she never really held it against me—probably because she never cared much for me either.”

“I see,” Penelope choked out, taking another sip in the hopes of relieving her throat.

“Her parents used the scandal I caused to garner sympathy, thus ruining my reputation while simultaneously bolstering their own,” he went on, “And with their pick of the suitors, my unlucky former fiancée once again found herself in an arranged engagement to another man she did not care for. This time, however, the wedding went through unhindered.”

Not blind to the parallels between his former fiancée and her own situation, Penelope found herself instinctively leaning her elbows on the table as she listened.

“May I ask what she said?” Penelope blinked. “How is she now?”

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