Page 25 of Five Nights with a Rakish Duke
“Is it so wise to agree to spend five nights with a Duke?”
“Well, as I said,” Veronica sat back with a playful smile on her lips. “There are worse men to spend that time with.” Penelope shook her head at her godmother’s humor. “If he is discreet, then your reputation is safe, and maybe you will enjoy yourself in the meantime.”
“Veronica!”
“What? I am a woman too though I’m old with lines on my face now.” Veronica pulled at the loose skin around her cheeks. “I was young once too, you know. The thrills of a marriage bed excited me as much as they will you.”
“I am not so comfortable hearing about this,” Penelope laughed and covered one of her ears to block out the words. “I also do not intend to share his bed.”
“Do not be silly, child,” Veronica laughed too and pulled the hand away from Penelope’s ear. “It is what it is. You can enjoy your few nights with the Duke of Kendall, and then you will have your assets back. There is one area though in which I’d like to give some advice.”
“I’d be glad to hear it.”
“After these nights have passed, marry quickly.” Veronica’s words made Penelope sit forward, thinking on the meaning. “You do not want to give Lord Larson chance to gamble away your dowry again, for one thing, and for another, it is best you do marry in case the Duke is not as discreet as we hope, and rumors spread.”
“Yes, you are right,” Penelope said. She moved to the edge of her seat as the decision took hold, listening as Veronica puffed on the pipe. Penelope hadn’t wanted to marry, but as Veronica had said before, it was the world they lived in, and it was time Penelope took control of her life.
I will marry and have my estates back.
“You are happy for me to present eligible bachelors to you then?” Veronica asked.
“Yes,” Penelope said again. “It must be done.”
“Good, there is only one other question to discuss in the meantime.”
“What is that?”
“When is your first night with the Duke of Kendall?”
Chapter Nine
“Lord Upperton and Lord Decker are here to see you, My Lord,” the butler said as he hesitated in the doorway.
“Thank you, Walker,” Asher said, snapping up the letter on his desk. The letter had been with him for a day now, and he still hadn’t read it. “Put them in the garden room, would you? I’ll be with them momentarily.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Walker bowed and hurried out of the room, leaving Asher alone with the letter.
He turned away from the door and broke the wax seal, peeling back the letter from his mother. Well, he called her his mother, but she wasn’t really. She was his stepmother. His birth mother had been gone a long time, and he didn’t talk about her. His stepmother had come into his life when he was barely an adolescent. She had been kind and loving, and whilst he had an unbelievable amount of respect for her, there would always be a distance between them, especially now that his father had passed. He peeled back the parchment and lifted it toward the window, the better to see the cursive lettering as dusk began to fall outside.
Dearest Asher, the Duke of Kendall,
It has been so long since I have heard from you. Pray, tell me how you are? Please write and tell me! You may remember, I promised your father I would look out for you, and having not heard from you in weeks, I have little to do here but worry for you.
In answer to your last letter, yes, I am content with my time here. The country is a fine place to remember your father, but I fear it leaves me alone with my grief and that makes things worse. I long to come up to town again soon, perhaps to distract myself, but I will let you know when I have made a decision.
Now I must come to the crux of my thoughts, something that has plagued me from the day we lost your father.
I remember the vow you made to him as I am sure do you. Tell me, are you any closer to fulfilling your vow? I am eager to meet the lady who will be the new Duchess and to welcome an heir to the Dukedom again.
Write back to me when you can, I long to hear your news.
Your always loving,
Dowager Duchess of Kendall, Josephine Charmant.
Asher lowered the letter and threw it onto his desk in thought. He knew his stepmother meant well, but the reminder of his promise to marry and produce an heir grated on him. He left the room as quickly as he could, determined to put something of his thoughts about the letter out of his mind. When he entered the garden room, he found his two friends were already being attended to by Walker, both holding glasses of port in their hands.
“There you are! We thought you got lost in your own house,” Dorian said as he lifted the port to his lips. “Good Lord, what has happened to you?”
