Page 35 of My Cruel Duke

“This one was just the same.” Uncle Harold diverted his attention to Penny as he pointed at Rhys. Rhysand stilled.

“He used to be scared of everything on all fours.” Penny leaned forward to catch the slight embarrassment in his eyes. “He would cry so loudly if he all but heard an animal make a sound. He was most terrified of cows!” Everyone laughed except Rhysand.

“What changed?”

Rhysand turned to his wife. She had all her attention on Uncle Harold. She seemed like she genuinely wanted to know about him.

“I could not have a coward for a nephew. More so for the Duke of Huxton, so slowly, I bought animals. Started with a tiny pup.” Rhysand saw the faraway look in his uncle’s eyes. It was a fond memory. “His fascination with the tiny beast trumped the fear he had. He would not let anyone but him tend to her. It was why she grew to be so very attached to him. The beast was not used to other people.” Aunt Augusta shivered but laughed.

“Then his father bought a stallion for him, and the love for animals grew from that point.” Rhysand held his lower lips between his teeth at the mention of that day. His uncle knew what that day meant to him, so to casually bring it up like that… Rhysand was not sure how he felt about it.

“That is such a perfect story!” Penny clapped her hands together.

“Do you have one of such stories?” Uncle Harold asked and Penny shook her head.

“Save the one time I was bitten by a goose; I have not had many encounters with animals. My father only kept animals that produced food, he did not keep pets.” Again, everyone except Rhysand laughed.

“Penny, dear, you might want to use a bath. You look like a harlequin with all that paint on your face.” Penny’s hands flew to her face immediately. She had completely forgotten her unkempt appearance.

That night, Rhysand was not shocked at his uncle’s surprise visit to his study. The man had gone back to his default, with a silk night robe, and a glass of whiskey in hand. Rhysand noticed the man had not been drinking as much in the day anymore and had regressed to night drinking, which he thought was better for him anyway.

Uncle Harold took a seat beside the large oak table and took a swig of the liquid before setting it down and turning his attention to Rhysand.

“Uncle, to what do I owe the honor?” Rhysand regarded.

“I have but a few questions,” Uncle Harold’s words slurred a little, which told Rhysand this glass of whiskey was not the first of the night. “How has the married life been?”

“You are present in this house, are you not, Uncle?”

Uncle Harold nodded his head. “I need to hear from you.”

“There is nothing special about being married. It has been a chore trying to keep her away from renovating the entire place but she did it anyway, and I wager I haveyouto thank for that.”

Uncle Harold laughed. “Who am I to refuse the Duchess of Huxton? She asked nicely, and I heeded her request.” Rhysand could relate to that statement. It was almost impossible to not provide with Penelope everything she asked for.

“Look at you, you were adamant no sane lady would take you, and here you are with a wife,” Uncle Harold teased.

“She is everything but sane, that one.” Rhysand leaned into his chair with this thumb grazing his lower lip.

“Have you managed to fulfill your duty? Have you tried for an heir?”

Rhysand paused and shook his head. “I have had more work on my lap since the marriage.” He was making excuses for his derailment. He had known he had neglected his duty for fear of an emotional attachment to Penelope. There, he said it.

The pleasure she promised with every curve of her plump lips, every bat of her thick lashes, the dips of her dimple, the sway of her hips, the feel of her skin against his. Rhysand knew very well what would happen if he did not take hold of himself before meeting with her to fulfill his duty as a husband. He thought about her when she was not close, and when she was close, he wanted to take his time peeling off every layer of clothing she had on as though he was an excited little boy and she was a Christmas gift he had longed for since the year began.

“Do you not want an heir? Surely the process does not take much time that you have to plan down to the last detail.”

Rhysand bit his lower lip. Uncle Harold was right. He could not lose sight of himself and his goals, not anymore.

“I do,” and so after the little meeting with his uncle, Rhysand ordered a bath be drawn for him, and after refreshing up, he marched to Penelope’s room and knocked.

Chapter18

“Aunty, are you still wandering the corridors? I think we agreed it would be best to give up this notion that Rhysand is out to–” Penny paused her speech midway as she swung her door open to reveal someone who was not, in any way, her aunt.

“Rhysand!” She was out of breath and she sounded like it. Faint and surprised. “W-what are you doing… here?”

He raised a brow in response. “Have you been gossiping about me recently?” Penny shook her head a little too quickly for it to be seen as the truth. But it was the truth. She had been gossiping about him, but not recently.