Read Online The Duke's Quandary by Callie Hutton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Callie Hutton
Tags: Regency, Historical Romance, Bluestocking, entangled publishing, opposites attract, ugly duckling, Scandalous, scientist, Entangled Scandalous, ton, duke, Botany, Forced marriage
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watched from the carriage as the last of his sisters entered the house and the butler closed the door. His duties finished for the evening, he rapped on the roof of the carriage to signal the driver to head to White’s.
The evening had been successful. A good start to his campaign to find the perfect bride. Lady Daphne stood out among the young ladies and would be an excellent duchess. Her charm, grace, and beauty would help his life run smoothly. No drama or female hysterics. She was cool and controlled. And would not expect love to factor into her decision to marry.
…
A couple of hours later, Penelope tightened the belt of her dressing gown, then picked up a small rug and hugged it to her body. Holding her breath, she slowly opened her bedroom door. All was quiet, the women of the household having retired some time ago. She softly closed the door, and made her way down the corridor, avoiding the part of the floor that squeaked.
The candlestick she held aloft cast an eerie glow over the steps, and lit the way for her to quickly descend, her slippers mute on the marble stairs.
Finally at peace when she stepped into the garden, she breathed deeply and hurried to the spot she’d searched the night before, the scant moonlight helping to guide her way. She’d been certain the plants in the wooded area behind the garden held specimens she’d seen in books, but never up close. This area of the country should hold them in abundance, and she wanted the thrill of observing them up close. Spreading the rug out, she knelt in the damp loam and placed her candlestick alongside her. Adjusting her spectacles, she bent closer and used her magnifying glass to examine the plants.
After some time had passed, she became aware of the dampness on her knees where she’d carelessly crawled off the rug. She looked down at two wet brown spots on her nightgown like large circles of chocolate. “However will I explain this to Maguire in the morning?” Perhaps a quick washing in the bowl on her dresser would do the trick.
She stood, placing her hands on her lower back and stretching the strained muscles. It had been a good night’s work. She’d seen several plants that she could record in her journal while the other ladies were working on their sewing. These forays into the woods at night made the time spent in Town more tolerable.
Immediately, she chastised herself for that thought. Her hostess was wonderful, and the girls a delight. But that didn’t change her feelings about not fitting in. Rubbing her palms up and down her arms to ward off the chill, she thought back to tonight’s ball.
It had been embarrassing enough to have Drake drag practically every gentleman who could walk across the ballroom floor to her side. But then to have him witness her drop the glass of lemonade, and the disturbance that ensued, made the mortification complete.
She’d seen how Lady Daphne’s mother had eyed Drake. Even in her ignorance of all things ton , Penelope knew what that look meant. Lady Sirey intended to snag the Duke of Manchester for her daughter. Lady Daphne would be a perfect match for him. She was graceful, beautiful, and charming.
Never could Penelope imagine Lady Daphne crashing into her dance partners, or stumbling up the stairs. For someone as wonderful as Drake, Lady Daphne would be his perfect bride.
Why did that thought hurt so much?
Penelope heard rustling and peered into the darkened area of the thick trees. A small animal no doubt. But a stark reminder that she stood in the garden in her dressing gown, with the cool dampness seeping into her. She bent to pick up her rug when something flew at her, knocking her to the ground and rolling her over and over.
Chapter Eight
Within seconds she identified her attacker as Drake, who kept rolling her back and forth until she had to close her eyes with dizziness. Then he began to hit her about the ankles. What in heaven’s name was the matter with him? Had he too much to drink?
The evening had been successful. A good start to his campaign to find the perfect bride. Lady Daphne stood out among the young ladies and would be an excellent duchess. Her charm, grace, and beauty would help his life run smoothly. No drama or female hysterics. She was cool and controlled. And would not expect love to factor into her decision to marry.
…
A couple of hours later, Penelope tightened the belt of her dressing gown, then picked up a small rug and hugged it to her body. Holding her breath, she slowly opened her bedroom door. All was quiet, the women of the household having retired some time ago. She softly closed the door, and made her way down the corridor, avoiding the part of the floor that squeaked.
The candlestick she held aloft cast an eerie glow over the steps, and lit the way for her to quickly descend, her slippers mute on the marble stairs.
Finally at peace when she stepped into the garden, she breathed deeply and hurried to the spot she’d searched the night before, the scant moonlight helping to guide her way. She’d been certain the plants in the wooded area behind the garden held specimens she’d seen in books, but never up close. This area of the country should hold them in abundance, and she wanted the thrill of observing them up close. Spreading the rug out, she knelt in the damp loam and placed her candlestick alongside her. Adjusting her spectacles, she bent closer and used her magnifying glass to examine the plants.
After some time had passed, she became aware of the dampness on her knees where she’d carelessly crawled off the rug. She looked down at two wet brown spots on her nightgown like large circles of chocolate. “However will I explain this to Maguire in the morning?” Perhaps a quick washing in the bowl on her dresser would do the trick.
She stood, placing her hands on her lower back and stretching the strained muscles. It had been a good night’s work. She’d seen several plants that she could record in her journal while the other ladies were working on their sewing. These forays into the woods at night made the time spent in Town more tolerable.
Immediately, she chastised herself for that thought. Her hostess was wonderful, and the girls a delight. But that didn’t change her feelings about not fitting in. Rubbing her palms up and down her arms to ward off the chill, she thought back to tonight’s ball.
It had been embarrassing enough to have Drake drag practically every gentleman who could walk across the ballroom floor to her side. But then to have him witness her drop the glass of lemonade, and the disturbance that ensued, made the mortification complete.
She’d seen how Lady Daphne’s mother had eyed Drake. Even in her ignorance of all things ton , Penelope knew what that look meant. Lady Sirey intended to snag the Duke of Manchester for her daughter. Lady Daphne would be a perfect match for him. She was graceful, beautiful, and charming.
Never could Penelope imagine Lady Daphne crashing into her dance partners, or stumbling up the stairs. For someone as wonderful as Drake, Lady Daphne would be his perfect bride.
Why did that thought hurt so much?
Penelope heard rustling and peered into the darkened area of the thick trees. A small animal no doubt. But a stark reminder that she stood in the garden in her dressing gown, with the cool dampness seeping into her. She bent to pick up her rug when something flew at her, knocking her to the ground and rolling her over and over.
Chapter Eight
Within seconds she identified her attacker as Drake, who kept rolling her back and forth until she had to close her eyes with dizziness. Then he began to hit her about the ankles. What in heaven’s name was the matter with him? Had he too much to drink?
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