Page 26 of His Wild Duchess
She heard someone gasp to her left.
The older gentleman eyed her, keeping his air respectful. “I’m sure you know that your husband spent roughly a decade in the New World.”
“Well, yes, my Lord. Not half his life. Not raised, not born. Tell me what makes an Englishman an Englishman, and you’ll see that all you described was George Houston,” Penelope finished, bowing her head to the Lord. “Might we continue on, your Grace?”
The Duke was staring down at her with wide eyes, the corner of his lip slightly perked up. “How about a dance?”
Before Penelope could argue, he kept his grasp tight on her arm, and lead her into the ballroom, where the orchestra began to play. Pairs already glided across the floor, and the Duke easily slipped in alongside them, moving his arm to take a hold of her waist.
Penelope tried to remember her dance lessons while ignoring the butterflies that danced within her stomach at the feeling of the Duke’s hand resting on her hip. She hadn’t danced in years, but if she could stay atop Fiona in a playful mood, she could keep up with her husband perfectly well.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Might I ask you something?”
He glanced down as they spun. “Anything, after what you said back there.”
“Oh, well,” Penelope’s voice drifted, embarrassment threatening to take over before she shook her head, remembering her point. “I have yet to understand why you need the Ton’s involvement in your plans to open a stud farm. Is it…do you need an…endorsement?”
The Duke smirked. “Ask what you mean, darling. You want to know if I need money, right?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
He laughed lightly. “My plans aren’t as simple as opening a stud farm. I have brought a breed of horses native to the New World to England, and I plan on breeding with them.”
Penelope was unable to hold back her curiosity. “A new breed? How thrilling! Do you have any of them at the townhouse?”
The Duke shot her a stern stare. “Do not treat my steeds like your own mare.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Anyways,” he continued, giving her a hesitant look, “What I really need is a man already in with the races to sell my horses. I’d never regret the time I spent in the Americas, but…but it did dampen any sort of business relationships I might’ve had access to if I stayed in London.” He shrugged. “Nevertheless, we push on. That is my plight.”
Penelope felt her embarrassment fade away as she grew excited. “Only that?”
“Don’t patronize me. I know it might sound silly, but -”
“Heavens, no, it isn’t silly!” Penelope grinned as she looked up at him. “My mare, Fiona, is a retired racehorse. I got her from a caretaker at one of London’s tracks. I used to visit quite often so that he might check up on his old favorite.”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Penelope eagerly asked. “Youdohave an in.” Sheepishly, she raised her shoulders, pulling her gaze away from him. “Well… you have me.”
He was incredibly silent for longer than she expected him to be. Timidly, Penelope raised her head, and watched his smile grew from ear to ear. Suddenly, without any warning, the Duke placed either hand on her hips, holding tight and lifting her in the air, spinning her around while the music carried on all around them.
As the air left her chest, Penelope gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wind whip through her hair and ruffle her chest. She laughed as she spun, the world becoming a mesh of colors. When he lowered her, returning to the position to continue dancing, moving with grander strides, Penelope found herself unable to take the smile off her face, too.
“Darling,” the Duke finally said, “I believe we’ve got work to do.”
CHAPTER 8
Afew days had passed since Lady Tollock’s ball. Penelope’s spirits had been high since then, feeling incredibly proud of herself for being the one to solve one of the Duke’s weighty problems. Not often did it end up that way, with Penelope not being the one to havecausedthe troublein the first place. She’d take anything, and it was a good win.
In an even better turn of events, the Duke rushed them off early that morning to take a trip out into the country. Eagerly, Penelope dressed for travel, making sure that her two foxhounds, Priory and Pat, were ready for a day out of the townhouse. They were hunting breeds, ones that thrived with some time out in open fields and plenty of room. Not only that, but out of the entire pack Penelope kept, the pair were the easiest to fit in a simple carriage.
“Did you really need to bring them along?” the Duke asked about half an hour into their trip, though he didn’t seem to truly mind them much. Priory, the elder of the pair, rested her head againstthe Duke’s knee, her eyes shut as she snoozed. He scratched the top of her head pleasantly. “Won’t they run at the first chance?”
“You think they’d run from their source of food and care?”
The Duke shrugged. “You said they were strays. What’s to keep them from straying again?” He gazed down at Priory. “Where did you find these ones?”
