Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book(53)

“I am counting on you to keep Henry away from me from this moment on. If he even attempts to attend our wedding, there will be an unflattering story about it in the London Times the next day. I will continue to go to the newspaper every time there is an incident. The ton devoured stories like this in the past. I see no reason they wouldn’t now. Who knows? The magistrate may have interest.”

Penelope stood, and Avery followed suit. She looked into his darting eyes. “Do we understand each other Uncle Avery?”

Avery stood still.

“Uncle Avery?”

He seemed to slowly wake as if so deep in his thoughts he was fighting to rise.

“Yes, Penelope. I understand. I’ll take care of it. Please don’t go around town in fear. Don’t limit your movements because of him,” he said in a low voice.

“Thank you, Uncle. I knew I could count on you. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

He looked surprised. “Am I still invited?”

“Of course. How would it look if you weren’t there?”

Penelope laughed and went home for her conversation with Nash.

About halfway through Penelope’s explanation of her actions to block Henry, Nash got up and started pacing. His hand went through his hair during every second or third turn on the floor.

By the end, he sat next to Penelope and pulled her hand between the two of his. “I’m your husband. I should take care of you and keep you safe.”

She gave him a small smile and tilted her head. “I know. That’s what frightened me. If you beat him as forcefully as I thought you would beat him, I would have to visit you in jail. I couldn’t bear that.”

“I wouldn’t be sent to jail.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Now we don’t have to find out. Avery will take care of it. He loves his reputation more than he loves Henry.”

Nash laughed. “I believe you’re right. We will enjoy our big wedding more knowing Henry won’t be there.”

Penelope sighed. “So true.”

Nash checked the mantle clock and kissed Penelope before ordering his carriage. Once he was gone, Penelope ordered her carriage and headed to see her mother and brother.

Penelope went through her story one last time and handed Edward the last copy of her letter. She had told Avery she had dropped them off at the solicitor and the newspaper.

Avery might have influence over their solicitor or the London Times, but he’d never get to Penelope’s brother. Both Cecilia and Edward read what Penelope wrote and agreed it covered the facts well. Both Cecilia and Penelope didn’t want Edward to tell them where he would hide it.

Now, she was ready for her wedding.





Chapter 21


Avery called Henry into his study and asked him to close the door. Henry poured himself a drink, noting that Avery already had one, and then sat in a comfortable chair near the fire.

Avery sat across from his son. “I got a complaint that you have been harassing Penelope.”

Henry lifted his head and looked into Avery’s eyes, “It’s not true.”

Avery looked back and held Henry’s eyes. “Have you seen her recently?”

Henry broke the gaze. “I’m barred from their house.”

Avery took a deep breath. “That’s not what I asked. Have you seen her recently?”

“Sometimes when I’m out I see her on the street.”

Avery nodded. “Then what happens?”

Henry shrugged. “I talk to her.”

Avery nodded again. “What do you talk to her about?”

Henry shifted his weight in his chair and swirled the whisky in its glass. “Different things each time I see her.”

Avery looked into Henry’s face, but Henry would not meet his eyes. “How many times did you see her this week?”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Avery sighed. “Take a moment to think about it. How many times did you see her this week?”

Henry leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. “What’s this about?”

“Answer the question, Henry.”

Henry sat back and moved his head to the right, disengaging himself from this conversation.

Avery did nothing but wait. He crossed his leg, drank some whisky, and watched the fire.

“Probably four,” Henry spat out.

“So in the past week, you have run into Penelope four times?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Where?”

“Where?” Henry repeated.

“Where did you run into her? The location.”

Henry shook his head. “Seriously, you want me to tell you where I bumped into Penelope during this past week?”

“Yes,” Avery said, with an undercurrent of a man losing his patience.

“Bond Street, Ackerman Street, Hyde Park, and Fifth Street. Teahouses, fabric shops, imports from India.”

“And what was Penelope doing on Ackerman Street?”

Henry took a long drink of his whisky. “She was looking for a hair comb at one of those import shops.”

Avery stood and walked around to the back of his chair and leaned on it. “I’m not going to bother asking you about Bond Street or Hyde Park. I’ve heard enough. You’re stalking her, and that is unacceptable behaviour, Henry.”