Page 27 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t quite hear-”

“You were right!” she hissed, averting her gaze. “I- I’m afraid of the dark.”

The duke pretended to gasp. “Really? But you conceal your fear ever so well!”

She gave him an annoyed look, prompting him to laugh even harder. He held up a finger and asked her to wait for a moment. The next thing she knew, he turned off the rest of the lamps and closed the library door behind him as he joined her in the hall.

“Oh, are you done working?” She blinked at him.

“Several hours ago.” He took the lamp from her hands. “I was simply making excuses to Mother to preserve her sanity earlier.” he offered her his arm once again, “Shall we, Lady Pen?”

Penelope wordlessly locked arms with him once again.

As they carefully ascended the staircase, he whispered, “If you’re so afraid of the dark, how on earth did you find the strength to go on late-night escapades?”

She scoffed at him, “I know it’s hard to see my face on account of the darkness surrounding us, Your Grace. But in case you’ve forgotten, I am alady, and proper ladies don’t sneak out for late-night escapades.”

“I don’t mean for anything vulgar,” he tutted. “I just mean killing time in the garden late at night when you can’t sleep. Or perhaps sneaking down into the kitchen when you suddenly wake up with an appetite, you know, that sort of thing.”

They neared the top of the stairs.

“It’s never really been a problem before.” She shrugged, whispering to him, “I’m usually a good sleeper.”

They ambled down the corridor and despite the fact that it was still darkened, Penelope felt much more at ease the closer they drew to her room.

“Well, as long as you’re in this house, expect your nights to get much more interest-” he stopped himself midsentence. “Before you jump away from me screaming, I don’t mean it inthatsense.” He cleared his throat. “Just that I’m usually awake quite late, so if you ever need to make a midnight trip to the garden, I’d be more than happy to fight back the darkness for you.”

She squeezed his arm. “Goodness! Be careful, Your Grace, for a moment you actually began to sound like a real friend there,” she teased.

He let out a snort.

At last, they arrived at her door. She had to remind herself to release his arm this time. But perhaps that was to be expected since, given the surrounding darkness, his presence was a comfort—rather than the nuisance that it normally was.

“Good night, Lady Pen.” He winked at her one last time.

“Good night, Your Grace,” she replied, rolling her eyes at him one last time as well.

Little did she realize, however, that she’d barely get a wink of sleep—yet again. This time, every attempt to close her eyes was met with flashes of the excitement that had transpired earlier.

She attempted to lay on her left side, flashes of his self-satisfied smile filled her mind. When lying on her right, her mind flashed back to her embarrassing attempt to demonstrate her flirting prowess. And lying on her back, she got flashes of their lips almost touching.

When she had had her fill of this torture, she sat up and kicked the covers off of her.

If I'm not going to sleep, I may as well study,she huffed to herself.

At least this undertaking proved considerably more successful. By sunrise, she practically knew Viscount Steepwharf better than he knew himself.

With her mind exhausted, it was no longer capable of tormenting her with flashes of the previous night. However, instead of being tortured in her dreams, she found herself being tortured while awake by the glaring sun and the smug air with which the duke carried himself as he appeared completely unaffected from the night before.

As breakfast drew to a close, she asked Mother to pass her this morning's paper in the hopes that it would perk her up. Instead, His Grace rose from the head of the table, grabbed the paper, and floated over to where she sat.

“Here you go, Lady Pen.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, accepting it from him, irritated by the sheer abundance of vigor and liveliness he possessed despite it all.

He turned to one of the maids. “Cynthia, would you please pour Lady Penelope some more tea?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

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