Page 95 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

“She's happy,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “Three children, a husband she grew to love, and a lovely estate near the seaside that her friends envy her for. But I already knew all of that before going to see her.”

Penelope tilted her head sideways in perplexity. She opened her mouth, but closed it again.

“Go on,” His Grace urged her with a weak smile, “though I believe I have a good idea of what your question is already.”

Penelope gave in—both to his urging and to her own curiosity. “If you knew her situation, Your Grace, then why did you consider it necessary to visit her so suddenly?”

“Because I needed a reminder.” His Grace suddenly met her gaze for the first time since recounting his trip. “Without it, I fear that I would have done something... selfish.”

“Selfish?” Penelope echoed. “I don’t understand, Your Grace.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly leaned forward, a hand gently cupping her face. “Pleasetry,” his voice suddenly low and fervent as his eyes bore into her, “Or do I have to kiss you to finally get through to you?”

It was too much all at once and before she could even understand why, tears suddenly began to streak down Penelope’s face.

“Your Grace...” her voice croaked, “I’m sorry, I-” a sudden hiccup cut her off, “I reallyamtrying, but I just don’t understand what yo-”

His lips swallowed the end of her sentence as he leaned over the table, crashing his lips into hers. Penelope noted that he tasted like the tea they were both drinking, mixed with hints of cigars and whiskey.

Much like the rest of him, his lips were strong and dominating. But even so, the kiss was unmistakably tender, spreading a warmth through her that caused her whole body to quiver under him.

When they finally pulled away from each other, both of their faces had turned pink.

Penelope’s lips still tingled where his lips had met them, breaths mixing as their foreheads remained pressed together.

“The day that Gloushire proposed to you was the worst day of my life.” His voice came out in a low whisper, “I almost-” he swallowed before continuing, “I had to leave before I knocked him out and begged you to marry me instead.”

Penelope’s heart thrashed against her rib cage. “Then why didn’t you?” she whispered back.

Her question jolted him backwards, separating their foreheads in the process.

“N-No, it was- I couldn’t.”

His chair let out a grating noise as he hurriedly leapt to his feet and began pacing. “A part of me hoped that I- that you might possibly- But no. I knew that you deserved better than me.”

Penelope opened her mouth to object, but nothing came out. Instead, the duke continued, “My trip to Kenstone confirmed that letting you go, staying away from you, would be in your best-”

“No!” Penelope yelped, now also on her feet. “It might have worked out for your former fiancée, but you should have told me about your feelings because...” her eyes began to well up again, “I would have-”

“Don’t say it.” He held up a hand in warning. “Please, this is already agonizing as it is.”

Penelope took a stubborn step towards him. “But what I’m saying is that it doesn’t need to be! I’ve been having doubts on whether I should marry Gloushire anyway, so if you-”

“It’s out of the question.” His Grace cut her off again, “Gloushire will be a better husband to you. He’s reliable, well-reputed, fiercely loyal, and-”

“But he’s not you.” Penelope’s lip quivered just as the dam behind her eyes broke, blurring her vision such that the duke was nothing more than a hazy cloud standing in front of her.

The cloud moved and the next thing she knew, firm arms were wrapping themselves around her, drawing her toward him so that she could lay her head on his broad chest.

“If we got married...” he began, his tone heartbreakingly gentle, “...my enemies would become yours. Since calling off my engagement all those years ago, I have lived my life a little too recklessly and although I am not guilty ofeverythingour peers may accuse me of, I have definitely upset far too many people. I could never put you-”

“I don’t care,” Penelope huffed, lifting her head off his chest so she could look up at him. “I don't care what they'll say or do. I shall stand by you to the end.”

A hand found its way to her cheek, gently stroking the paths her tears had burned into it. “How can you say that so confidently about a disgraceful rake?”

Penelope raised her own hand to caress the barely visible stubble on his jaw. “Given the way you described love as all-consuming, the sincerity of your belief in love itself, the way you stand up for the vulnerable... I have the feeling that you aren’t really as rakish as you pretend to be, Your Grace.”

The defeated smile on his lips told her she was correct before his words did.

---