“By ‘everyone’, I presume you mean the Earl of Graystone,” he scoffed, moving his glass in circles to swish the water that remained inside.

“He’s just one of several, actually,” Penelope huffed. “As such, there’s no reason to single him out.”

“Yes, well, it isn’t wise to believeeverythingone hears,” the duke reminded her drily. “Graystone might have said such things to accomplish his own agenda.”

“Jerry would never!” Penelope snapped.

“Is that so?” The duke leaned forward. “I say hewould, especially since he’d be encouraged by the way you—not only entertained, but—reciprocated his advances.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped. “Hewasn’tflirting, and neither was I!” She set her glass down on the center table. “If you actually made friends with the women around you instead of only using them for pleasure, the bond that Graystone and I share wouldn’t be so difficult for you to grasp.”

He tapped his chin contemplatively. “If thatwasn’thow you flirt, then prove it. Flirt with me now.”

“Absolutely not, you lunati-”

“Let me see what we’re working with,” the duke egged her on. “First, you called my initial assessment of your technique inaccurate and now you claim that I can’t distinguish flirting from friendly banter.” He lowered his eyes. “So go on, then. Show me.”

Penelope could hardly believe that she was agreeing to this. But determined to prove him wrong, she set aside her discomfort and pressed onward.

“It’s good to see you here, Your Grace,” she began with a smile. “Interested in a little... fun?”

Clearly amused, he leaned forward in his seat, his sultry eyes met her gaze head-on. “Perhaps...” he asked in a low growl, “What did you have in mind for me?”

Taken aback by his bold rejoinder, Penelope faltered. “Well, I- It's-”

His sultry gaze disappeared as he laughed at her agitation and tutted, “You didn’t even last ten seconds.”

Unable to take any more of this, Penelope jumped up from her seat and sprinted towards the door. But the duke was faster and managed to grab her wrist just as she reached for the handle.

“Wait!” he said, the warmth of his hand wrapping around her wrist, “it wasn’t that bad, you just need to work on keeping your composure.”

But Penelope couldn’t even bring herself to speak, let alone face him again, so she attempted to silently shake her wrist free.

He pulled her back towards him and a gasp escaped her lips as she found herself mere inches away from his face. Shadows and flickering candlelight danced across his face, drawing her eyes to his lips.

His other hand found its way to her waist, stirring up butterflies in her stomach. The corners of his lips turned upwards as he slowly closed what little distance remained between them.

For a moment, Penelope let her eyelids drop, bracing herself for the collision. But thankfully, her better judgment won over and she shoved him away.

“Nowthatwas much, much better,” he smirked.

Penelope opened her mouth to protest, but a knock at the door startled them both.

“Duncan, is that you in there?” the dowager duchess’ muffled voice came through the door.

CHAPTER8

Penelope stifled a yawn, barely able to keep her eyes open. Not only was she exhausted, but even the bright morning sun that she usually loved to bask in was quite irritating at the moment.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Mother asked from across the table. “Weren’t you able to sleep last night?”

“It was... an uncharacteristically restless night, Mother,” Penelope confessed. His Grace let out a snort at the other end of the table, causing her to glare at him.

“It’s nice to see that you find my suffering so amusing, Your Grace,” she snapped.

“Not at all, Lady Penelope.” The duke solemnly shook his head. “In fact, I happened to run into Mother late last night because she was suffering from a similar case of restlessness. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

“Indeed,” sighed the dowager duchess. “Whatever the cause, it appears to have somehow affected us both, Lady Penelope.”