The Duke's Quandary by Callie Hutton

was. It turned out your father had made a simple miscalculation, and there wasn’t any money missing. The poor steward was shaking in his boots, and it took all of your father’s reasonable charm to calm the man, and assure him he was not being let go.”
    Drake grinned, imagining himself doing something like that, but never his formidable father.
    “So you see, son, you need to give yourself time to adjust, to grow into your title.”
    “What about all these unmarried sisters?”
    She rose and headed toward the door. “My dear, even your father didn’t have much success in persuading Abigail, Sybil, and Sarah to accept offers. Just give them time. They’ll make good matches, I guarantee.”
    She turned back to him before opening the door. “And how is your search progressing?”
    “I have my eye on a young lady.” When his mother’s eyebrows rose, he quickly added, “Or a few.” No point in having her maternal focus on him.
    “Just remember to choose the woman you would want to spend the rest of your life with. And don’t discount love. I know you’re determined to make the perfect match, and disregard feelings. But love can, and should, go together with marriage.”
    His back stiffened. “I’ll choose the right woman when the time comes.”
    “Sometimes you don’t have to look far to find the right one. Oftentimes she is right under your very nose.” With a smile reminiscent of the cat who had just enjoyed a bowl of cream, she left the room.
    What the devil did that mean ?

Chapter Ten
    Penelope curtsied gracefully, without mishap, before Lord and Lady Ponsoby, her hosts for the evening. It was the come out ball for their youngest daughter, Cecily. Penelope moved down the line, and then into the ballroom, a familiar sensation of being in the wrong place washing over her.
    Not that she didn’t look the part. Tonight she was dressed in yet another new gown. This one was made from the finest white muslin, with gilt threads woven into it. Dark blue flowers were embroidered throughout the gown, with a matching ribbon under the bodice, the edge of the cap sleeves, and along the bottom. As she moved, the gown shimmered from the glow of an abundance of candles burning in the ballroom.
    Delicate blue slippers peeked out from under her gown, and she carried a hand painted flowered fan. All the trappings of a young lady, but nothing convinced her she really belonged here. She sighed as she made her way through the crowds, her arm linked with Sybil’s. The young woman was stopped by a number of people, the gentlemen bowing before her, the young ladies giving her hugs.
    At each stop, Sybil was careful to introduce Penelope to those she hadn’t met at the last few balls. Several men requested dances, and after fumbling with the small card dangling from her wrist, she was able to inscribe the names without too much difficulty.
    Already she felt breathless at the crush of people surrounding her. The ladies’ strong perfumes and men’s cologne water bombarded her senses. The noise of those trying to converse with each other, shouting above the din to be heard, only added to the confusion. How in heaven’s name did these people do this all the time? And when would she be able to flee back to her safe and quiet life in the country?

    Two hours later, her feet already sore from dancing, Penelope groaned as another gentleman approached her, despite her hiding place behind a large decorative urn.
    “Miss Clayton, I believe this is our dance.” A young man who wore a black coat, snug buff breeches with white stockings, and black evening slippers, held out his hand. Penelope did not remember his name, in fact didn’t remember him requesting a dance. She really should pay better attention.
    They took their places with two other couples, forming a square, waiting for the fourth to join them. The quadrille made Penelope nervous with its intricate steps and changing of partners. She’d also noted that some of the ladies