Page 50 of Saved By the Rakish Duke

“Oh, the hostess and I have known each other since we were children,” Penelope answered, noting that her companion stood casually, one hand in his pocket while the other nursed a pretend drink. “What about you, my lord? How doyouknow them?”

“The host and I go hunting together every Season,” he answered, puffing his chest out—a possible sign of his arrogance or perhaps that he was attempting to appear more important than he really was.

Their pretend conversation carried on for another minute or so before His Grace finally stopped the rehearsal to ask, “So... viable prospect or an unsuitable one?”

“Unsuitable, most certainly,” Penelope huffed.

“Good.” He gestured invitingly. “And how, pray tell, did you arrive at that conclusion?”

Penelope repeated whatever details she had picked up on, even though she was sure that there were probably others that she had missed.

“Ever the fast learner,” he remarked with an approving nod. “Naturally, in this case, I was being deliberate with most of those undesirable signals, so some of them may have come across as slightly exaggerated but the principle still stands.”

Penelope couldn’t help but tilt her chin upwards upon receiving such a favorable assessment, but it turned out that His Grace wasn’t quite done.

“But you forgot one thing,” he added with a mischievous grin. “While you are observing your companion, you can be sure that they are observing you too.”

“Come now, Your Grace,” Penelope despaired, “you can’t seriously expect me to hold a conversation with a gentleman, observe the minutia of his movements and mannerisms,andkeep track of my own unintentional mannerisms as well?”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try.” He shrugged, “Besides, I thought you wanted to do everything in your power to improve your chances of landing a husband. Paying attention to such minutia would serve you well.”

Penelope threw her head back in frustration. “Out of all the people I could have asked help from regarding this quest, why did it have to beyou?” she groaned.

“What’sthatsupposed to mean?” he huffed, crossing his arms. “And after I graciously shared such precious insights with you as well.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” She offered him a weak smile. “You’ve been so wonderful in this endeavor. But in truth, when I asked for your help, I didn’t expect it to be this... intensive.”

This elicited a snort from the duke. “As the old adage goes, one must be careful about what one wishes for.” He waved for her to follow after him. “Perhaps some refreshments will help renew your resolve.”

Unsurprisingly, His Grace had had a tray of tea, biscuits, small fruits, and pastries prepared for their lesson, but this time he had added a pitcher of orange juice and slices of blueberry pie.

“We’ve come quite some way from plain glasses of water in the library,” she laughed, accepting a glass of orange juice from him.

“Perfection may be out of reach, but that shouldn’t stop us from getting as close as we can to it.” He winked, raising his own orange glass towards it. “Besides, I had a hunch you might not enjoy being pulled away from your afternoon nap.”

“Afternoon nap?” Penelope scoffed. “Your Grace, need I remind you that I am neither seven nor seventy years old.”

He squinted at her suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not simply denying it because you’re embarrassed? It’s notthatembarrassing of a habit, you kno-”

She shook her head. “I use my afternoons to paint,” she clarified, turning towards the nearest window, “The golden afternoon light is simply divine.”

Penelope felt the duke step closer toward her, joining her in looking out of the window, a biscuit in hand.

“It’s easy to see why.” He gestured to the window, his right hand still holding a biscuit. “The afternoon sun is much gentler than its morning counterpart.”

“Exactly!” she beamed, turning her head to look up at him. But without any warning, she felt her heart stop in her chest.

At this moment, everything about him seemed at ease. The golden-orange rays lit up his carefree smile, the waves of his hair, and gentle eyes. She had always known he was handsome, but right now he looked almost celestial.

Surprised to find her staring at him, he let out an awkward laugh, “What’s the matter? Are there any crumbs on my cheek?” he asked, touching his cheek with the back of his hand.

“N-Not at all.” Penelope averted her gaze. “I was just thinking about my paintings,” she lied.

“Ah.” He raised an eyebrow. “By any chance, were you considering asking me to pose for you?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “With your proclivity for boredom? Not a chance! I’d have to reposition you every five minutes.”

“But I’d make an excellent subject!” he protested, striking a dramatic pose. “I’d certainly be more exciting than whatever fruits or animals you usually paint.”

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