“Brandon?” He would never allow Merry to seriously consider his brother. As much as he loved the younger man, he had quite a bit of growing up to do before he took on a wife. Although, as the heir apparent to the dukedom, he should be encouraging Brandon to marry. Just not Miss Chambers. He pushed the why not question from his mind.
She shook her head. “Tell me abou
t your trip. Did you, Smithfield, and Eastlake come up with new ways to torture Parliament?”
Not satisfied with his mother’s evasive tactics, but acknowledging her wish to change the subject, he went into more detail about his meetings with the lords.
Tea arrived at the same time as Miss Chambers. She’d changed into another gown, and had fixed her hair. The smudge of dirt was also gone. Too bad, he would have liked to use his thumb to run over her soft cheek to erase it.
Merry sat across from them and poured. He leaned back and watched her graceful hands as she performed the duty. When she wasn’t spewing forth outlandish opinions, she was really quite charming and sophisticated. She glanced up as she handed him a cup, and her smile warmed him for more reasons than where his thoughts normally wandered.
Miss Chambers was kind, intelligent, and from all indications, loved fiercely and protectively. She would be a stalwart wife, and a wonderful mother.
“I see you’ve done quite a bit already to prepare for the Christmas season.” He took the cup from Merry’s hand.
“Yes. We’ve been very busy. I just love the holidays. All the preparations never seems like work to me.” Her eyes danced with glee.
“Did you and your father entertain a lot?”
Merry nodded. “We did. He oftentimes had students over for dinner, and we would all discuss politics or some other subject of interest.”
Penrose’s eyes widened. “You sat in on those discussions?”
Her eyes snapped. “Of course.” Then her defiant chin rose. “And why wouldn’t I?”
God, he loved how quickly she went from sweet little miss to a tigress. “I don’t mean to disparage you, or your father. I’m merely surprised a woman would be interested in such things.”
“Oh, I suppose it would make more sense to you if I preferred to merely discuss gowns, slippers, and gossip?”
He could no longer hold back his chuckle. She narrowed her eyes, and then her lips tilted, turned into a smile, and finally she laughed.
“Ah, see, Miss Chambers. We are able to laugh at ourselves, are we not?”
“And when will it be your turn?” She smiled sweetly and took a bite of a watercress sandwich, as the dowager duchess grinned behind her cup of tea.
Merry’s heart hadn’t gone back to its normal rhythm since Penrose first walked into the dining room. His presence had sucked out all the air. He’d towered over her, staring down with those riveting deep brown eyes that always caused her to feel as though she’d forgotten to put on her gown.
Now with him sitting across from her, his large frame dwarfing the settee, she had a strong desire to whip out a fan to cool her heated skin. With the blood pounding in her ears, she barely heard what he and Kitty discussed. This would not do. The entire time he was gone he’d invaded her thoughts, even while she’d slept.
But, oh, how he vexed her with that superior attitude. She studied him from beneath lowered lashes. His attraction lay not just in his good looks, but the way he held himself. The way he moved across a room like a panther seeking its prey. She shivered. Would that she were his prey.
“Are you cold, Miss Chambers?” Penrose regarded her.
Cold? She was ready to rip off her clothes. “No. I’m fine.”
Penrose stood. “Ladies, as much as I’ve enjoyed your company, there are things I must attend to before dinner.” He bowed to his mother and kissed her hand, then turned to Merry. With that predatory look in his eyes, he took her hand in his, and brought it slowly to his mouth, all the time staring in her eyes. Her breath caught. He rested his lips on her hand, casting a devilish smile he did so well. “Until later.”
Merry was both angry and about to self-combust. She did not want him to affect her in this manner. As he continually reminded her, he was a duke and she not even a member of the ton. But did he ever say that, or had she gotten that impression from Miss Jennings? She chided herself. No matter. The fact remained there could never be anything between them. And she didn’t need the governess to remind her of it.
The next afternoon Merry tapped on the library door.
“Enter.” The duke’s deep voice rolled over her.
He sat behind his massive desk, papers scattered about, a quill pen in his hand. He glanced up as she entered, a smile gracing his lips. “Good afternoon.”
“Your Grace,” she curtsied.
“Merry, please stop. You keep bobbing up and down every time you see me, and I’m becoming dizzy.” He grinned. “And I’m dismayed to find we’re back to ‘Your Grace,’ again.”