Anna Campbell - What a Duke Dares

Houghton Park, Lincolnshire, May 1819

Every young lady dreamed of a proposal from the heir to a dukedom. Especially when the heir was rich, feted, in possession of his wits, and still young enough to have all his teeth.

Every young lady except, apparently, Penelope Thorne.

From the center of her fathers library, Camden Rothermere, Marquess of Pembridge, eyed the girl hed known from the cradle and wondered where the hell hed slipped up. He straightened and summoned a smile, struggling to bridge the awkward silence extending between them.

Damn it. He never felt awkward with Pen Thorne. Until now. Until hed spoken the fatal words.

Until, instead of radiating delight at the prospect of marrying him, Pens black eyes sparked with the rebellious light that always boded trouble.

Why? It wasnt the first time this afternoon that shed asked him the question.

Stupidly he couldnt summon an adequate answer. Hed blundered into this half-cocked. It was his own fault. Knowing Pen as he did, he should have prepared a comprehensive list of reasons for their marriage before broaching the subject.

Right now, he wished hed never broached the subject at all. But it was too late to retreat, or too late if he hoped to salvage a shred of self-respect from this dashed uncomfortable encounter.

Devil take you, Pen, I like you, he said impatiently. Despite her inexplicable and irritating behavior today, it was true. There wasnt a girl alive that he liked so much as the chit currently regarding him as if hed crawled out of a hole in the ground.

He knew her better than any other girl too, even his sister, Lydia. Through their childhood, hed rescued Pen from a thousand scrapes. Shed been a hellion, riding the wildest horses in her fathers stables, climbing the tallest trees in the park, throwing herself into brawls to defend a friend or mistreated animal. Cam had long admired her spirit, loyalty, and courage.

Those were qualities he wanted in his duchess. And if she needed some guidance in deportment, he was perfectly prepared to teach her proper behavior. She was a Thorne and Thornes werent renowned for their prudence, but while Pen might be impulsive, she was intelligent. Once shed become the Duchess of Sedgemoor, he was sure shed settle down.

Or he had been, until her unenthusiastic response to his proposal.

I like you too, she said steadily, regarding him with unwavering attention.

Cam wondered why her admission didnt reassure. Inhaling deeply, he strove for forbearance. Well, there you have it, then.

That bitter note in her laugh was unfamiliar. He could hardly believe it, but the possibility of failure hovered. Pen was clever, determined, headstronghed get that out of her soon enoughand stubbornly inclined to take a positive view of events. Or at least so hed believed until today.

Hed also believed that shed leap at the chance to marry him.

Clearly hed been wrong.

He wasnt used to being wrong. Confound her, he didnt like it.

Her voice remained curiously flat. Im sorry, Cam. There you have it, then wont pass muster. Youll need to do better than that.

From where she stood before the high mullioned window, she studied him much like a schoolmistress surveyed an unpromising student. He only just resisted the urge to run a finger under his unaccountably tight neckcloth.

Good God, this was Pen. She wasnt a female who put a man through hoops before she fell into harness. Shed never demand more than he could give. Shed never subject a fellow to emotional storms. Shed never lie and cheat and betray.

She was the absolute opposite of his late mother, in fact.

Cam was unaccustomed to feeling like a blockhead, especially with the fairer sex. By nature he wasnt a vain man, but hed anticipated a better reaction to his proposal. Pens father Lord Wilmott had been in alt to hear that his daughter would become a duchess.

Most definitely, Pen was not in alt.

And she bloody well should be. After all, she was a mere barons daughterand a ramshackle baron at thatwhile Cam was heir to the nations richest dukedom.

The Thornes were an old family, but had always had a justified reputation for trouble. In times of political unrest, they backed the wrong side. If they managed to lay their hands on any money, they lost it, usually in some disreputable pursuit. Wine, women, and song should be the family motto instead of the much more staid and highly inappropriate steadfast and faithful.

The previous generation had spawned a handful of eccentrics, including an uncle who had married his housekeeper. Bigamously as it had turned out. Lord Wilmott had squandered his wifes dowry on a succession of greedy strumpets. Pens aunt ran with a dissolute crowd on the Continent. Peter, Cams friend and the current heir, was devoted to the gaming tables and disastrous investments. If Cams mother hadnt been great friends with Lady Wilmott, the families would have had little contact.

What made Pens tepid response to Cams suit even harder to understand was that shed always worshipped the ground he walked on. Was he a fool to presume on childhood adoration?

A horrible suspicion struck him. Was he presuming on far too much? Despite his parents scandalous behavior and the gossip about his legitimacy, the ton lionized Cam as the future Duke of Sedgemoor. Had endless flattery turned him into a self-satisfied ass?

If Pen thought him insufferably arrogant, no wonder his proposal hadnt bowled her over. He sighed with self-disgust and impatiently ran his hand through his hair. Im making a dashed mess of this, arent I?

Pens slender body lost its rigidity as a wry smile curved her lips. Lips, he reluctantly noticed, that were pink and full and lusciously kissable.

As shock shuddered through him, he wondered why hed never noticed before. Pen had been such a constant in his life that he hadnt taken the time to mark how shed changed.

Still unwilling to admit that Pen wasnt the girl he remembered, he looked more closely. To his dismay, the coltish adolescent hovered on the brink of becoming a true beauty. Even more dismaying, he felt the unwelcome, unmistakable prickle of desire.

Yes, you are. But its not totally your fault. With a grace he hadnt seen in her before, she gestured toward the leather chairs ranged around the unlit hearth. Sit down, for heavens sake, and stop looming over me.

Actually he wasnt looming, although with his height, he loomed over most people. Pen had always been a long Meg, closer to a boy than a girl in his mind. But in this discomfiting instant, when for the first time he saw more than his friend Peters occasionally annoying younger sister, there was nothing boyish about Miss Penelope Thorne.

Since hed last seen herand for the life of him, he couldnt recall when that had been, such an ardent suitor he wasshed grown up. The thin body had gained subtle but fascinating curves. The vivid, pointed face that had always seemed too small for her decisive features had refined into striking attraction. When had she tamed her tangled mane of hair into those gleaming ebony coils?

Apprehension tasted sour on his tongue. God help him, this new Penelope was a bloody disaster. He narrowed his eyes on the siren who had mysteriously supplanted a hoyden as daring as any of his male friends. And saw that she was blossoming into a woman who made men stupid.

Categorically he didnt want to marry a woman who made men stupid, the way his mother had made his father stupid. How insulting to his chosen bride that part of her appeal had been her lack of overt attractions.

His fathers example proved what catastrophes resulted from choosing a tempestuous beauty as a wife. Cam had grown up hearing salacious gossip about his mothers affair with her husbands younger brother. Nobody, including Cam, knew who had fathered him. He was a Rothermere, but not necessarily the late dukes son.