Page 9 of My Cruel Duke

Penny recognized him as the Marquess of Hallan. He was the most sought-after bachelor, after the Duke of Huxton, that is, and as she took his hand and as she regarded him, she could see why. He had the most charming smile she had ever seen on a man, a pearly white smile that promised a happy life. She did not think the duke ever smiled or if he was even capable of such a thing. For all she knew, he could be lost in the gesture.

And indeed, he was. A scowl sat on Rhysand’s face; long fingers clamped around the glass of whiskey he had been nursing since his arrival at the venue. He had managed to minimize his interaction with the Ton by lodging himself on the upper floor of the fine building, out of sight in a dark corner where mamas always warned their daughters not to wander off to. He stood there; eyes locked on the one that would be his bride.

He had seen her the moment she arrived. Even from a distance, that lush, deep yellow of her dress heightened the translucence of her face and neck. She was petite and flowerlike, with eyes that glowed and pierced. And then, she accepted Hallan’s hand. Rhysand’s muscles tightened as he watched them dance. A small, satisfied, dimpled smile sat on her face, and when she looked up at Hallan’s face, he saw longing in her eyes. Snorting, he downed the last bit of the whiskey.

As if.

He had not felt any emotion aside from anger since the death of his parents, and he was not going to start now. He had no time for the guilt that crept up to his gut. His anger had driven him; it made him ruthless in his dealings, and with that, he garnered himself more wealth than his father left behind. Now that anger and ruthlessness was going to get him a bride and an heir. If Miss Hislop had wanted a love match, she would have refused his request. But he did not give her much of a chance. He offered her a life many ladies in London would die for; it was the sort of deal that was hard to come by, and she knew it.

The number ended, and he watched Miss Hislop curtsy to Ralston and leave. Before he knew what he was about, his legs moved, guiding him down the flight of stairs to the ground floor, to the door that hid behind the velvet drape, where he suspected she had disappeared.

Emerging outside, he scanned the area under the moonlight, searching for the rich ivory of her dress. A few steps into the overgrown garden, he found her sitting with her back to him.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

She shuddered at his voice and turned; eyes wide in fear. Or was it surprise?

“You scared me, Your Grace!” She rose from where she was seated as if propelled by an explosive force with a hand above her heart. His dark brows arched mischievously. “I did. The Marquess of Hallan is a man of fine manners,” she had a low, silvery voice. Rhysand let out a humorless laugh and inched closer to her, but not too close. He had barely been able to contend himself the last time.

“Need I remind you that you are engaged to be married?”

At this, the impudent lady lifted her gloved left hand to her face, and with a smile that annoyed him, she pulled the glove off, revealing her buttery fingers.

“But I see no ring of any sort, Your Grace?”

“Do not test me,Sunshine; this never ends well.”

“I am not capable of doing such a thing, Your Grace,” she was teasing him.

“So you say, but what I see in your eyes is different.”

“Perhaps you should check your eyes, Your Grace. I have heard that many men have fallen victim to night blindness because they were too ashamed to get checked.”

He parted his lips to speak, but they heard a twig snap a short distance from them. Though they had plans to get married, it would do them no good if word got out that he had compromised her.

“Return to the ball,” Rhysand suggested with a sigh. He saw her eyes blaze with protest, but she heeded to his words.

The duke’s threat had followed Penny home, and it was all she could think about as she obviated Aunt Augusta and Lydia and went up to her room. Her newly appointed lady’s maid had tried to make small talk, but the moment she was relieved from her dress, hair pins, and accessories, Penny dived into her bed and shut her eyes closed, resentment tingling in her bones at the one word.

Sunshine.

When Penny arose that morning, she was shocked and displeased to see Aunt Augusta and Lydia lounging in her room, eyes locked on her as though she owed them, and they had come to collect what was due. In a sense, she did owe them something.

She owed them the truth.

“Christ! I am sure this could have waited until I bathed, Aunt?”

“We demand answers, Penny, and you shall provide them right away!”

Penny swallowed and pursed her lips. With a deep breath, she told them everything, leaving out obvious facts like how the duke’s breath felt on her skin or how his closeness made her feel.

“Heavens, child!” Penny had never seen Aunt Augusta shed a tear, but beads of tears fell from her face by the time Penny finished talking.

“Do not cry, Aunty; if you do, I shall have no choice but to join you.” Penny held her Aunt’s hand to her chest as the woman slithered her way into Penny’s bed.

“I do not cry because I am weary. I cry because I am full of joy!”

“What?” Penelope was shocked at her reaction.