To Capture a Duke's Heart (12 page)

The earl stiffened perceptibly, his chin raising just a notch as he waited for Gabriel to continue.

“On my honor, I had absolutely
nothing
to do with the situation I found myself in upon waking just a short while ago.”

The earl’s eyes were locked upon Gabriel’s.  “And exactly what
situation would that be?”

Stepping to the side Gabriel motioned toward the bed, giving the earl an unobstructed view of his daughter’s sleeping form.

“Penelope!” Beckford gasped, staring at his daughter in shocked disbelief.

“I swear to you that I never touched your daughter,” Gabriel avowed.  “Nor do I have the slightest notion as to how she came to be in my room,” he continued. “All I
do
know is that she was lying there asleep when I awoke.”

The earl turned his gaze back to Gabriel incredulously.  “You cannot honestly expect me to believe that.”

“As a matter of fact I
can
and I
do
,” Gabriel affirmed, his tone staunch and unwavering.  “I had nothing to do with this, Beckford, and that is the truth.” 

The earl stood silent and unmoving as he studied Gabriel’s face for several long seconds, before ultimately turning back to his daughter.  Then, in several long strides he crossed the room, stopping beside the bed, his eyes focused intently upon his daughter’s sleeping face.

“Penelope,” he uttered quietly.  When she failed to respond he reached out and lightly touched her shoulder.  “Penelope.”

This time she stirred, turning her head to the side as she emitted a soft, breathy sigh.

“Penelope,” the earl said again, louder this time.

Hearing the sound of her father’s voice, Penelope slowly came awake, struggling against the sleep-induced haze that held her in its grasp as she blinked once, twice and then finally managed to open her heavy eyelids.  “Papa?” she said, blinking in confusion. “What is it?  Is something wrong?” she asked, her muddled thoughts trying to make sense of her father’s unexpected presence in her room. 

When her father said nothing in reply, staring down at her instead with an odd, pained expression upon his face, Penny’s heart seemed to clench tightly within her chest.  Something
was
wrong, terribly wrong.  Sitting up, she clutched the bedsheet to her chest, gripped by a sudden and overwhelming sense of dread.  “What’s happened?  Is it Charlie?” she asked, forgetting in her bewildered state that they weren’t home at Beckford Hall.

“Charlie?”  Her father shook his head, eyeing her peculiarly now.  “No, your brother is fine, Penelope.”

“Oh thank Heavens,” she exclaimed, exhaling a huge sigh of relief.  But her relief was short-lived for clearly
something
was amiss else her father wouldn’t be standing there, looking at her so strangely. “But something
is
wrong, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously.

Her father regarded her searchingly, hesitating a moment before he asked, “Penelope, what are you doing in here?”

What was she doing in here?  In her bedchamber?
  Her father’s question was completely nonsensical.  “Papa, whatever do you mean?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.  “I was doing naught but sleeping, of course.”

“Sleeping
here
, in the Duke of Ainsworth’s chamber?”

Penny’s eyes went wide, utterly taken aback by her father’s question.  “The duke’s chamber?  Papa, what on earth are you-” The remainder of her question hung in the air, for as she spoke her eyes had moved from her father’s face to survey her present surroundings. 

Scanning the room she quickly realized that everything was wrong, the furnishings, the wallpaper, the position of the windows and the color of the draperies, nothing within her chamber was as it should be.  But no, of course it wasn’t, because she wasn’t
at Beckford Hall; she was in Scotland, at Gilchrist Castle she recalled as her thoughts finally began to clear.  But…the setting, it was still…wrong.  This was not the room she’d gone to sleep in the night before.  And as her head slowly continued to swivel, her father’s words repeated themselves within her head,
here, in the Duke of Ainsworth’s bedchamber
.  It was just then that her gaze alighted upon the man standing across the room regarding her through cold, assessing eyes, his expression cold and austere. 

Penny gasped, clutching the sheet more tightly against her chest.  “No, this can’t be,” she exclaimed.  “I…I don’t understand.”  She turned back to her father in alarm.  “How did I get here?”

For a moment her father appeared just as bewildered as she was. “You don’t know?”

“No.  I…” Penny shook her head, trying desperately to recall the events of the night before as tears sprung to her eyes.  “This makes no sense, for I was in my own chamber last night.  I went to sleep in my own bed.  I didn’t…I don’t… Papa, please, this cannot be,” she uttered in dismay as tears sprung suddenly to her eyes.

“Unfortunately it
can
and it
is
,” the duke said, breaking his silence.  “For here you are,” he continued frostily.  “What I want to know is
why
?”

Penny turned to him, noting both anger and enmity in his accusing stare.  “But, I…” she shook her head once again, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?” he countered, his tone harsh and accusing.

Penny flinched.  “No. I swear to you, Your Grace, that I do not know why I am here, or how I got to be here.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed.  “Of course you-”

“That’s enough, Ainsworth!” the earl interrupted tersely.  “I shall handle this.”

With no small degree of effort, Gabriel clamped his lips shut.

“My daughter is
not
a liar.  If she says she doesn’t know how she got here, then she does not know,” he professed, before turning back to Penelope.

His expression softening, Penny’s father studied her intently.  “Last night, my dear, what is the very last thing you remember?”

Brushing a lone crystal droplet from her cheek, Penny took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm as she thought back to the night before.  “I recall getting into bed,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “Initially I had thought to read for a short while, as I do most nights, but the hour was late and I was overtired.  So instead, I set the book aside, turned out the lamp and… went to sleep,” she continued, furrowing her brow.  “Honestly, that is the very last thing I remember before waking just now.”  She regarded her father beseechingly.  “Please, Papa, you must believe me, for I swear it is the truth.” 

The earl pressed his hand to her cheek, wiping away a second teardrop with his thumb.  “I do believe you, Penelope.”

Listening as Penelope spoke to her father Gabriel was caught completely off guard, for he’d expected the girl to begin hurling accusations at his head, insisting to the earl that he’d seduced her into his bed.  He’d prepared himself for that and could defend himself against that. 
But this?
  Not once had he considered that she would profess to have not the slightest memory of entering his room, or his bed, for the notion was utterly preposterous!  So why make such a claim then?  Unless…  
Ah hell! 
Unless her supposed lack of memory was just a calculated ploy, a means to get what she wanted without having to condemn herself in her father’s eyes, or to compel
him
to refute such assertions and proclaim her a liar. By God if that
was
her intent it was brilliant, he realized, for clearly her father adored her and was more than willing to believe anything she said, even something as absurdly far-fetched as her having no memory of entering his room.  Yet there she was… in his bed…with the ramifications being all the same.

Damn and blast!   Watching in growing consternation as the earl wiped another tear from his daughter’s cheek, Gabriel recognized with a sudden, sickening feeling that in all likelihood this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him.  Lord what a performance he thought in disgust, for if he didn’t know better he might well have thought the teary-eyed girl with the deathly pallor and trembling lips naught but a frightened child who’d just awoken from a nightmare.  God’s teeth, with talent like that the girl could likely put the most talented of stage actresses to shame.  Nevertheless, he wasn’t ready to surrender quite yet.  “You say you were
overtired
,” he said, causing the earl and his daughter to look his way.  “Was there a reason that you were more tired than usual, other than the lateness of the hour, that is?”

Lady Penelope eyed him curiously.  “I… I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Did you consume an excessive amount of champagne, by chance?  Or take a sleeping draught before retiring, perchance?  Something of that sort, something that might have contributed to your being overtired, or may have adversely affected your memory of the night’s events?”

Penny shook her head.  “No, I’ve never taken a sleeping potion,” she asserted.  “And while I
did
drink champagne last night, the amount was hardly excessive.”

“And what amount would you consider
excessive
, Lady Penelope?”

“Ainsworth,” the earl interjected in a cautionary tone.

“I mean no disrespect,” Gabriel replied stiffly.  “I assure you I am merely trying to ascertain what might have caused Lady Penelope’s
lack of memory
.”

Penny didn’t miss the thinly-veiled skepticism in the duke’s tone at his mention of her lack of memory, though she could hardly fault him for it when she couldn’t scarce begin to understand it herself.  “I had no more than three glasses throughout the entire evening, Your Grace,” she replied truthfully.

“Do you have a history of walking about in your sleep, by chance?”

Penny hesitated a moment, cast a quick glance toward her father and then shook her head.  “No, I… not that I know of.”

“So, it is a complete mystery then as to how you came to be in my bed this morning?”

Penny’s stomach dropped, for she knew what he was thinking.  “You believe I planned this, don’t you?  That I
deliberately
snuck into your room and into your bed?” she questioned in mounting horror.

Gabriel pinned her with his unflinching gaze.  “Did you?” he demanded.

“No!”

He snorted in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Ainsworth, you go too far!”  The earl stated angrily.

“You and I both know where this is headed, Beckford,” the duke retorted.  “You cannot expect me to simply accept it with naught but good grace, especially as this abysmal situation was brought about through no fault of my own.”

“She is my daughter,” the earl stated simply, his tone uncompromising.  “What else would you have me do?”

“What if we were able to keep the matter quiet?” Gabriel suggested

“Quiet?”

“As of right now the only other people who know of your daughter’s current whereabouts are my two brothers and the three of us here, and I can guarantee you that neither Rafael or Michael will breathe so much as a word of this to anyone.”

“While I have no doubt that your brothers would maintain their silence, how can you be certain that no one else knows of Penelope’s whereabouts?” the earl countered.  “Can you guarantee me that no one saw my daughter enter your room last night when not even the two of you seem to know how she ended up here?”

Meeting the earl’s questioning gaze, Gabriel sighed in frustration.  “No, that I cannot do,” he grudgingly acknowledged.

“Then what choice do you leave me?”

Listening to their conversation Penny realized that her father expected the Duke of Ainsworth to marry her, whether he wished to or not.  And
clearly
he did not.  “Papa, no,” she cried.  “You cannot expect His Grace to-”

“Penelope,” the earl interrupted, “there is only one acceptable resolution to this matter, for to do anything else would be to risk your reputation and place your entire future in jeopardy.  And that,” he continued as he reached out, grasping her chin gently within his hand, “is something I simply
cannot
allow.” 

“But His Grace did nothing wrong.”

“While that might very well be true, I am sorry to say that the duke’s blamelessness does not signify at this point, for the situation we are in remains the same.”

Did not signify?  Surely her father couldn’t mean that.  “But-”

“Penelope,” her father cautioned, silencing her with a firm, uncompromising tone and a decided shake of his head.  “I am afraid that you will simply have to trust me in this, my dear.”  He offered her a slight, reassuring smile then, before turning back to confront the duke. 

“Ainsworth?” he said simply.

The one word question seemed to hang suspended in the air as Penny, in mounting horror, shifted her agonized gaze to the duke’s face.

Though Gabriel had anticipated such an outcome from the moment he’d seen Penelope Houghton lying next to him in his bed, the reality of his impending fate was far more difficult to stomach than he’d imagined.  For even though he
had
been considering the notion of taking a wife, to be coerced into doing so was a different matter entirely.  He could refuse he supposed, and considering the circumstances he certainly had the right.  But if he did refuse, he would undoubtedly make a very powerful enemy in the process, for the Earl of Beckford was not only exceedingly wealthy, but a highly respected member of the aristocracy who held a long-standing association with a number of very influential people.  And while he himself held one of the highest ranking titles in England, he knew that even a dukedom couldn’t fully shield him from the entirety of Beckford’s wrath should he say no to marrying his beloved daughter, circumstances be damned.