Page 2 of My Cruel Duke

She was aware, very much so. It was the sole reason she came anyway.

“Very well then, enjoy your tea, do not let me spoil the mood any longer,” she mustered a smile, and with one last glance at them, she ran back home. She should have listened to her inner voice that warned her of what may happen if she went to the Langley house. Penny had been stubborn— foolish— to think that her friends would be any different from the rest of the Ton. It had only just dawned on her that she was alone now, save her sister and Aunt Augusta, her maternal aunt and the only relative left of her dear Mama.

Penny wiped the tears from her face the closer she got to her family home. Lydia would be home, and she would hate for her to see her in such a state. With a hard smile, Penny walked in.

“Oh goodness, you are back,” Aunt Augusta smiled. Confusion struck Penny as she looked around the drawing room where old dresses lay on the bare floor.

“Lydia and I began putting together dresses for her debut,” Aunt Augusta patted Lydia’s head, and the young girl smiled warmly. Aunt Augusta had been a rock for them both, stepping up as their mother after Penelope’s mother died. She had been more than delighted to take the role since she had no children of her own as she never married.

“How was your outing?” Lydia inquired.

Penny did not have the answer Lydia wanted to hear, so instead of replying, she joined them on the floor, looking through the old modes, some even belonging to their Aunt Augusta. Penny instantly regretted selling off her dresses when she did, but she did not have much choice in the matter. Her father had just been imprisoned, and any little money he left behind, Patrick, the eldest, took it and fled, leaving them in utter penury. There had been heaps of bills to pay, and Penny could not handle them all on her slender shoulders. All their servants had left due to the lack of money, and it was a miracle they were able to cook and clean themselves.

“What have you found?” Penny asked Lydia after a beat had passed. Lydia smiled and got up, showing off the lavender dress that belonged to their Mama. The color suited her, and she looked just like their mother. Even Aunt Augusta let out a soft gasp at the sight.

“You look magnificent, dear sister,”

Penny smiled, but deep down, she knew that Lydia would be scorned and overlooked all the same without a dowry.

Later that evening, Penny gathered her family at the table and served them dinner.

“This looks delicious,” Lydia beamed but Penny knew the taste would be far from the word. The sweet potatoes had been a gift from one of the sellers who Penny usually bought from. The kind man had noticed Penny did not have much money left on her to buy potatoes, so he called her and handed some to her. Little by little, Penny and her family had eaten them, sometimes with nothing in them but water. This time was no different. Even the parsley Penny had managed to sprinkle in it did not make it taste better than before.

“It does, does it not?” Penny smiled back; her eyes locked on the oak table. Perhaps she should sell the table and use it to buy some meat for the coming days?

“What are you thinking about, sister?” Penny lifted her eyes to find a happy Lydia staring at her.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about, dear.”

“Perhaps you should tell her–” Aunt Augusta started but one look from Penny made her cease talking. Lydia did not have to know how bad their situation was, she should focus on her debut and nothing else, not even what she would wear on the morrow.

Penny loved her family so dearly that she thought it impossible to feel anything other than deep love and affection for them, but Patrick had changed that. She had never felt such deep hatred for someone of the same blood. She loathed her brother for letting them fend for themselves without a protector. Despite her faltering smile, she swore to kill Patrick if she ever set eyes on him again.

Or perhaps I should kill the Duke of Huxton for putting us in this mess in the first place.

Chapter2

What is that?

As darkness covered the corridor, the bunch of white lilies in the black vase was sure to catch Rhysand’s attention. He had originally walked past it in haste to get to his uncle in his study, but the splash of color revolted him. He retraced his steps to it, picked it up, and assessed it. In turn, the innocent flowers mocked him, reminding him that he would never have such beauty in his life.

“Who did this?” He raised the vase with the flowers in them. He whipped his head in the direction of footsteps coming from behind him. Rufus, his butler, stilled where he stood as he watched his master’s eyes darken. “Who put these here?”

Rufus parted his lips, but he knew better than to say he had no idea who dared to decorate theBlack Mansionin anything other than black.

“I–I am sure Betsy will know, Your Grace,” the older man disappeared but soon returned with the housekeeper, a petite woman in her late forties.

“I am told you know who did this?” Betsy’s eyes zeroed in on the flowers, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. She recovered quickly. “It… it must have been the doing of one of the new maids, Your Grace.” She lowered her head, afraid of the fury she would see in his eyes if she looked up at him.

“Do I have to remind everyone in this household that I absolutely detest any kind of decorations in my home, especially flowers?” His words were as cold as ice water.

“I apologize for my inadequacy, Your Grace; I shall give them all a stern warning.” Betsy bowed.

When Rhysand spoke again, his voice was warm. “Take it away.”

Betsy wasted no time in taking the forbidden decorations from the duke’s hands and scurried away.

Rhysand turned to Rufus, who stood a few paces away from him. “Has the new valet arrived yet? Surely, he has some sense of punctuality?”