Page 73 of All Duke and Bothered

Preston came to stop before him and nodded. “I know. You’re right. She doesn’t want me, and I did ruin everything. But I’d like a chance to redeem myself.”

Lord Beckett frowned. “Oh?”

“Is everything all right?” demanded Lady Whitemouth as she approached them with an alarmed expression.

“The Duke of Grandhampton,” said a tall, thin man next to her. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Mr. Springer,” Lady Whitemouth hissed. “He is. But he was just leaving. Weren’t you, Duke? Remember our earlier conversation? You told me you had another engagement. What a pity that Mr. Springer of The Society can’t interview you.”

Ah. The journalist. Well, Preston didn’t care. More people turned around to watch, no doubt wondering why they heard raised voices and why Lady Whitemouth had such a panicked look on her face.

In the farther corner of the room, Penelope’s worried gaze met his as she made her way towards him, Calliope and Richard following behind her.

Good. Let the whole ton see this. Let the whole ton witness how much he loved this woman, and how he was ready to do anything for her.

“Lord Beckett,” he said. “Your debt is hereby pardoned.”

Lord Beckett gulped audibly, and the glass in his hand shook dangerously. “The whole debt? Ten thousand pounds?”

“Ten thousand?” asked Mr. Springer with a curious glint in his eyes. “Was that a gaming debt?”

“That doesn’t concern you, sir,” said Preston. “It was a family matter and now it’s resolved.”

Something like a circle formed around them, and Penelope, Calliope, and Richard took their places in it. But his eyes were only for his wife. She looked a little paler, with dark circles under her eyes, which gleamed as she stared at him. Her chest rose and fell quickly. How pretty she was in her creamy dress with delicate, intricate crystals woven into the thin material. All ethereal and unearthly, like an angel that had come into his life and made everything better. Brought him happiness he didn’t deserve.

“And I’d like to ask for your forgiveness, Lord Beckett,” Preston said. “Due to my pride, I dragged you through things I shouldn’t have.” Lord Beckett’s eyes widened, blinking rapidly.

“What things?” asked Mr. Springer.

“I’ll give you an income-earning estate of your own, Lord Beckett. It won’t be much, but it will be comfortable. I will support you because otherwise you won’t be able to survive, but you need to be held accountable for what you did. There is one condition.” He glanced at the journalist. “We will speak of it in private.”

The condition was, of course, that he had to retreat from all gentlemen’s clubs and promise that he would never gamble again.

“Whatever your condition is, I accept,” Lord Beckett hurried to respond, his face hopeful.

“I accept,” repeated Lord Beckett, his eyes watering. “And thank you. It must have been hard to do this after…after what I did.”

“What did you do?” demanded Mr. Springer.

But without paying any attention to him, Preston met the eyes of the only person whose good opinion mattered. “I regret my harsh actions. I regret my foolish choices. And I choose love. I choose you.”

Penelope gasped in a shaky inhale, her eyes wet and glistening. He came close to her and dropped to one knee in front of her. People gasped and murmured around them. With his side vision, he saw Mr. Springer take out a notebook and write something very hastily.

“And I ask for your forgiveness, Penelope. I love you. You’re everything I ever wanted.”

He took her hand in his and kissed it, inhaling her sweet scent. “Preston… Everyone’s watching…”

“That is exactly the point. What do you say, Penelope? Will you continue to be my wife and let me love you for the rest of eternity?”

30

Penelope watched him, breathing hard. Her cheeks were hot, and she couldn’t get any air. She couldn’t say anything, seeing Preston on his knees in front of her, breaking every social rule of high society.

One didn’t proclaim their feelings openly in front of everyone, and especially not a journalist. One didn’t humiliate oneself, didn’t pour one’s heart out like a commoner. Things like that were barely said in a bedroom.

Shock had her frozen in place, overcome. This prideful, stubborn duke was down on one knee in front of her.

The sight was enough to make her wonder if she was dreaming.