Auctioned

3

Was he a mind reader? Did the duke know she was attracted to him? Did he know she planned to auction off her innocence?

"Pfft. Hardly," was all she could say in retort.

"I know a few things about women. Some want marriage. Some want...relations. But either way they always want men. Unless they like girls - and that is an entirely...do you like girls, my lady?"

"Would people stop asking me that?!" The second person in a day!

The duke laughed. Alexander had a deep laugh. Seldom heard, but always appreciated. "You get that question a lot, huh? Something I should know?"

"I don't like women, your Grace. I like men. I just don't need one of my own."

He laughed again. "Ah, so you plan to borrow one?"

"You can do that?" Penelope joked.

"You can do a lot of things with the right man, Lady Penelope," he said with a wink. What a rake!

"I wouldn't know. So are you enjoying the season, your Grace?"

"Would you care to find out some of those things?" He whispered, completely ignoring her question.

"Your Grace, I think we should change the subject," she muttered hoping he would take the cue.

"Oh but this one is so much more delicious," he said still in a whisper.

"Fine then. Yes. Yes, I would like to eventually find out about those things. When I'm much older," she said not believing her own ears. Penelope was never this candid.

"Why wait?" His look made her want to answer, but she really had no good excuse. Luckily she was saved by the announcement of the end of dinner. "Saved by the bell, Lady Penelope."

The remainder of the evening was full of chatting about the weather and other banal conversations. Penelope was dead tired by the time she entered her room. But her head still swam with the issue at hand - getting caught.

The next few days were similar to the ones before. Tea, needle work, gossip and rides in the park. But unlike other days, Penelope was going to a modiste known for her avant-garde dresses.

The modiste had a heavy French accent and wore her hair in an outdated fashion - a wig that was high with powder. "What are you looking for in this new dress, ma cherie?"

"Something in a red silk. Perhaps lace. With a low décolletage. Perhaps fitted through the middle...."

"No!" The modiste said. "You need something...romantic. White! Like a Grecian goddess. Gold cording along the middle. Low décolletage. To look like you are a dream on earth!"

"But I need to look...desirable," Penelope tried to explain.

"Oh ma cherie, you will look like the vision of a sex goddess! Nothing on your arms but gold cording. Shoulders bare. Cords crisscross along your slim waistline. Empire waist to accent your breasts. Just picture it!"

The modiste seemed so sure of herself that Penelope agreed. Her name was of Greek origin. It meant nothing romantic - just "weaver." But the dress style seemed to fit.

After measuring and fussing about, the modiste sent her on her way promising the dress would be ready in two days time. As Penelope stepped out of the building she saw a familiar face stumbling out of the door across the way - the duke. He was clearly deep in his cups for an afternoon.

"Nell! What are you doing on this side of town, Nelly?" Very drunk. She had not been called Nell since she was a toddler. And she had never been called that by the Duke of Cambridge.

"Your Grace, are you well? May I be of assistance?" She felt it best just to ignore his question. She approached him and he almost flopped all of his weight on her shoulder.

"Nell," he slurred. "Where is my coach?" He looked about the street, but ultimately slumped more of his weight on her.

"I'm not sure, your Grace. Shall I wave down a hackney cab?" Anything to get him on his way.

"Yesh," he said almost unintelligibly. "Come with me Nelly. I need some help."

Penelope looked around for familiar faces. Luckily she didn't see any. "Your Grace, if I get caught in your cab, I will be in a world of trouble. You must be discreet."

"Nelly, I would never hurt you. We will go to my townhouse nearby."

They called a hackney and directed it to the duke's second home. It was a quick trip. Nell looked about before helping the alcohol addled lord to the door step. The butler helped get him inside. "I think you are in good hands..."

"No! Nell, I need you to take care of me." He whined. "I feel terrible." He did look like a sheet.

"Lead the way," she resigned herself to helping this man who had been nothing but rude to her recently - with only a few charming moments.

The duke laid down in the bed and pulled her to sit beside him. "Fate was shining down on me as I left that tavern tonight."

"It is barely noon, your Grace," she corrected him.

"Your Grace, your grace, your Grace," he mocked her. "Call me Alex, Nelly. I insist. I'm too much an ass to be spoken to..." and then he turned to his side to vomit.

She rushed to the door to get help cleaning up the mess. The butler was still walking down the stairs. "Please send someone to clean up after the duke."

When she came back in Alexander was stripping down out of his clothing. "Your Grace! No!"

"Pfft, I'm covered in my own sick. And it's Alex," he was pouting like a child.

Penelope turned away and made to leave. She couldn't be here with him being undressed.

"Nelly, I'm not naked! Stay!" She turned around and he was shirtless. Oh my, that wasn't expected. He was not built like a lord. He looked more like a laborer. Corded muscles on his arms. His chest was wide and defined. "You like?" He asked with a smirk as he noticed her stare.

"Alex!" She was so flustered at this point that she used his nickname.

"And she says my name," he laughed.

"I'll be ruined if you keep this up. If anyone knew..."

"How would anyone know that you are here and with a half naked me?" He almost giggled this out. Alexander was clearly still drunk.

"Still. This isn't right. Now let's get you some sleep. Hopefully you won't wake with a headache," she mumbled as she scooted him to the bed that was still soiled. "Shit! That is a mess."

"Ha! She swears!" He was giggling more than she had ever seen a man of his stature.

"Another room?" She asked shaking her head at his comment.

The duke walked out of the master bedroom bumping in to walls and down the hall to one that was clearly designed for a female. "My father used this room for his mistresses. Lovely, huh?"

He seemed a little disgusted by the fact. But Penelope just pulled back the bedding, and ushered him in. "I'll let the staff know of your whereabouts, and remind them of the mess. Please take it easy, your Grace."

Before she turned to leave Alexander grabbed her arm. "Too bad you are so plain, Nell. You would be a good..." and he was asleep. Prig.

"Fuck you, your Grace," and Penelope left the house without speaking to the staff.