Page 38 of All Duke and Bothered

“I do see you as a good man,” she said, taking another step to him and laying her hand on his shoulder.

He drew her to himself like a force. She knew now what Calliope had spoken of. She saw the real Preston, the man under the social mask and the layers of anger and grief.

The man she was ready to give herself to.

He met her eyes and their gazes locked. For a brief moment, she imagined she could have it all. Her art. A happy marriage. Perhaps there was hope for her after all. Perhaps she didn’t need to feel so alone.

“In fact,” she told him, “come to my room before dinner. I’ll show you exactly how I see you.”

16

Preston knocked at his wife’s door. The knock came out gentle, almost shy. He let his arm drop and suppressed the tremble in his hand, clenching it into a fist. Light footsteps approached from the other side. Then the door was flung open, and she stood before him.

Her eyes were bright and sparkling. And her dinner gown was a soft blush color, almost the exact shade of her lovely skin, with shining crystals and intricate silver embroidery. The image took his breath away. It wasn’t exactly that she looked naked, but his mouth went dry at the sight of her, and heat rushed to his groin. His gaze dropped to her bust, and he didn’t know where her body ended and the dress began. He could just imagine her rosy nipples.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at her face. “Here I am,” he said hoarsely. “I have come before dinner, to your room. As instructed.”

She nodded and stepped aside to let him pass. Inside her bedroom, before the fireplace, there was a small table set with a light supper of bread, butter, cheese, pigeon pies, cold tongue, and fruit, and a carafe of wine with two glasses. There were no footmen to serve them, no maids, and no butler. No one to observe and watch over them.

She stood in the middle of the room, clutching her hands. “I thought it would be nice to dine here, together, just the two of us.”

He nodded, his skin prickling with heat. “I like that, Penelope.”

Penelope… Heavens, he loved her Christian name on his tongue. It tasted divine, like ices on a summer day. As round and as refreshing, and as pure.

Pure…was she pure, indeed?

As he sat down at the round table, he watched her take her seat and select a slice of the cold tongue, her eyes warm and her lips curled in a soft half smile.

Preston stabbed a piece of cheese and sent it into his mouth. “I confess, you’re not what I thought you were.”

Penelope’s eyebrows rose in an amused expression. “I daresay. You thought me a superficial fortune hunter. What do you think me now?”

Knowing her better now, it was hard to imagine that she had been intentionally leading his brother on, encouraging him in his feelings while only thinking about his fortune and his status. Could he really abandon his previous convictions regarding her and stop thinking about her as an enemy?

But he already had, he realized, and he hadn’t even noticed. She wasn’t the enemy anymore. But she couldn’t be a friend, either.

He didn’t know what she was.

But he couldn’t allow himself to have any feelings for her, even if she was his wife. Because even if she may not be his enemy anymore, even if he assumed she was not at fault in Spencer’s death, she’d always be the only woman his brother had ever loved.

“No,” he said. “I do not think you a fortune hunter or a superficial woman. You have a strong and independent spirit. You’re very talented in the arts. You have wit and a kindness of heart.”

And an amazing body; he still couldn’t forget the feel of her writhing against him in ecstasy. Neither could he forget the scent and the taste of her on his fingers after he had pleasured her, and how her soft and hot flesh felt quivering against his palm… He’d have to fuck that memory and his need for her out of his system.

Tonight.

After that, he’d get bored of her and would return to his normal life, only lying with her until she was with child. An heir and a spare, that was all he needed from her. She’d have all his support to pursue her arts. He’d help her with his connections and pay the best artists to tutor her, and he’d make sure she got into whichever art exhibitions she wanted. Mostly, to show her father how wrong he was about his daughter. But also because she should have a happy and fulfilling life. He had taken away her choice to marry, and now he realized she was just another victim in this scheme. He’d do his best to make it up to her, even if he could never love her.

“Why, thank you, Preston,” she said. “I noticed you my first Season. But I have always been so intimidated by you. If you thought all those things of me, why did you never ask your brother to introduce us and find out for yourself if they were true or not?”

“Because I knew I was right. I’m always right. And I didn’t want to be wrong. It’s my pride.”

“But why did you think me a fortune hunter at all?”

“As I mentioned that night at Almack’s, everyone in the ton knows your father’s situation, how poor he is. How he looked for a rich husband for you and failed to find one.”

“Everyone except me,” she mumbled. “I knew we weren’t rich, but it was only when we came back from Almack’s that he told me how bad things were.”