Page 53 of Tamed By a Duke
Charlotte's cheeks reddened, as people began to glance about, trying to discern just who it was the duke was hailing.
"Pretend it's not me," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Violet and Julia.
"Oh, believe me, we are," Julia replied, with a fixed smile upon her face. "What is the man thinking, causing such a scene?"
"How should I know?" Charlotte snipped back, "He is usually so aloof. So proud. He is not the type of man to cause any kind of scene, he thinks scenes beneath him."
"Perhaps he has changed his outlook," Violet interjected, with a nervous glance across the pond, "For if I am not mistaken, the Duke of Penrith appears to be thinking to swim across to you."
What? Charlotte—who had been straining to avoid looking in Penrith's direction—turned her head sharply. The duke was, she realised with alarm, contemplating a dive into the pond. Which was, she reasoned, ridiculous, for the water surely would not even come up to his knee.
Sadly, Penrith did not seem to make the same assessment as Charlotte and she—and everyone else—watched in horrified fascination as the duke removed his coat, before diving headfirst into the water.
"Goodness, that must have hurt," Violet observed, as Penrith landed with a loud splash in the low water.
"And not just his body," Julia closed her eyes against the reputational affront unfolding before her.
Penrith, now completely soaked, clambered to his feet, brushing off pond weeds from his shoulders as he gathered his wits about him. The crowd around them began to guffaw with laughter and a few crueller souls called out jeers to the sodden duke. Charlotte, who was rooted to the spot, felt her heart ache as she realised how embarrassed the duke must be.
But Penrith, despite undoubted injury to his pride, gathered himself together and continued his trek across the pond, this time on foot.
"Charlotte," he called as he waded through the water, "I beg you, just a moment of your time."
By this stage, the whole crowd had realised that it was Charlotte whom the duke was calling to. Heads turned in her direction, and Charlotte wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
But she also wished that time would stop still, so that she could commit to memory the ludicrous, heart-warming image of Penrith battling to get to her. True, he was battling through water which did not quite meet the knee of his Hessians, but he was battling none the less.
And for some strange reason, tears were falling down her cheeks.
"Just one moment of your time," Penrith called again, as he finally reached her, "On bended knee, I beg you."
""No need to ruin your trousers, your Grace. What would Mr Weston say?" Charlotte whispered, smiling through her tears at the ridiculous duke before her.
"I fear my trousers are past ruined," Penrith offered, "And if I am to beg your forgiveness, I must do it on my knees. And whilst I'm down there, I might also beg for your hand and save myself a second journey."
"Gemini," Charlotte heard Violet whisper, as Penrith—still in the pond—sank to his knee.
Charlotte moved closer to the edge of the pond, her eyes fixed on the duke. He looked completely and utterly ridiculous, but her heart felt fit to burst with joy.
"Miss Drew," the duke said lightly, his eyes holding Charlotte's, "Can I ever prevail on you to forgive me? And if forgiveness is possible, might I beg for the honour of your hand in marriage?"
The crowd, which had been tittering and jeering, fell to a hush as they realised what was happening before them. There were calls of "Say yes!" from several corners, and one lady gallantly offered to take Charlotte's place, should she refuse, but Charlotte paid no mind to anyone but Penrith.
He was, she realised, completely sincere in his proposal. And he had, at great injury to his pride, sought to demonstrate to her just how much she meant to him.
What girl in her right mind could refuse such a man?
"Yes," she whispered, reaching down to grab his hand and pull him from the water, "Yes, you silly fool. Of course I will marry you."
"And do you forgive me?" Penrith queried, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek.
"There is nothing to forgive," Charlotte laughed, "Though perhaps you ought to forgive me my stubbornness—for it appears to have ruined your trousers."
"Dash my trousers," he whispered, pulling her close to him and depositing a kiss upon her lips.
A huge cheer went up from the crowd and as Penrith hungrily sought to claim Charlotte's lips, this descended into whistles and lewd cries.
"Push him in, Miss. That ought to dampen him off again!" a voice cried in jest, and Penrith relinquished his hold on Charlotte.
