unused to men, but there was a difference between friendly acquaintance and a close-range confrontation with sheer masculine physicality. It felt like someone had taken a mallet to a gong of femininity hidden deep in her belly, and now the vibrations traveled through her bones, summoning an ancient, primal force.
Penny could think of only one name for it: lust.
It made no sense. She’d always been a romantic. She cheered on her friends’ unlikely matches. She believed in destiny, soul mates, love at first sight.
Penny didn’t want any of those things from Gabriel Duke. She wanted to tear off his clothes and look at him—all of him—the way she had last night. It had been too dark in the room, and she hadn’t found the courage to stare. When would she see a man so very big, wearing so very little, again?
Never, that was when.
The thought made her irritable and sulky.
Good Lord, Penny. He’s a person. Not merely a collection of muscles with an intriguing distribution of hair.
“Unlike most gentlemen, I did not inherit a fortune,” he continued. “I built one. I did that by acquiring things that are undervalued, and then selling them for more than I paid. Hence, a profit. Do you follow me?”
“If you’re asking whether I comprehend basic mathematics, then yes. I follow you.”
“Good.” He looked in the direction of the house that so inconveniently abutted hers. “When the Wendlebys could not pay their debts, I acquired their property. Now I mean to sell it at a profit.”
“And therefore you’ve undertaken several months of improvements.”
“The improvements to the house will add to its value, but the property’s main selling point is right here.”
“You mean the square?”
“I mean you.”
His words took her by surprise. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Do you have any idea how much a social-climbing family would pay to take up residence next door to a lady?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. And it’s an outrageous figure. They envision themselves rubbing elbows with the elite, climbing the rungs of society, living in elegance and luxury. If they gaze out the drawing-room window and see their aristocratic neighbor playing goatherdess on the green like some absurd imitation of Marie Antoinette? It ruins the effect.”
“People run their dogs on the green all the time.”
“Dogs are pets.”
“Marigold is a pet, too. And she needs to browse. She can’t subsist on alfalfa alone. She’s prone to bloating.”
“Bloating?” he echoed, incredulous.
“She has sensitive digestion.”
“That doesn’t look like bloating to me.” He tilted his head and regarded Marigold’s swollen underbelly. “That looks like breeding.”
Penny stepped back, offended. “She is not breeding. It’s impossible. There are no bucks for miles.”
“You’re certain of that?”
“Yes, I’m certain. No one keeps goats in the middle of Mayf—” She bit her tongue before she made his argument for him. “I’m telling you, it’s impossible. If she’s not in the mews or the back garden, I keep her on a short lead.”
His eyebrow quirked with derision. “Spoken like the guardian of many a ruined young female in this neighborhood, I’d wager.”
“I beg your pardon. Marigold is not that kind of goat.”
“Whatever you say. I don’t care about the creature’s virtue. I just want her removed from the square.”
“I told you, she needs to browse. Her diet requires shrubs and fresh grasses. Hay and corn are well enough for Angus, but—”
“Hold a moment. Angus?”
“Angus is a Highland steer. I rescued him when he was a calf, but he’s three years old now. Grown and healthy as anything.”
He blinked at her. “You have a fully grown bull—”
“A steer.”
“—living in your back garden.”
“Don’t be silly. Angus lives in the mews. The otter is in the back garden.”
“An otter?” He grumbled something that sounded like Holy immaculate mother of goats. “This is ridiculous.”
“Mr. Duke, the variety of pets I keep may be unusual, but an attachment to animals isn’t. Have you never had a pet of your own?”
“No.”
“Don’t you like animals?”
“Certainly, I like animals. Roasted animals. Fried animals. Minced-and-baked-in-a-pie animals.” He gestured expansively. “I like all kinds of animals.”
Oh, this man was impossible.
No, Penny corrected. The man was not impossible. Even the most untamed, ill-mannered creatures could be won over with a bit of patience. She’d made pets of worse beasts than Gabriel Duke.
She simply wasn’t up to the effort this afternoon, that’s all.
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t have time to compromise. They have to go. All of them. The goat, the cow, the otter, the parrot, that hedgehog, and whatever else you have in your rafters. I need them all gone.”
“What a coincidence you should say that.”
Ever since her aunt had left, Penny had been turning it over and over in her mind. She would have to find the animals new homes. Either she did so quickly and succeeded in convincing her aunt, or else she would be forced to leave Bloom Square—in which case, there would be no taking her pets with her. Bradford would never take them to Cumberland. If she defied her brother’s wishes, one of Penny’s friends would surely welcome her to stay with them—but she couldn’t ask them to take in a few dozen animals, too.
One way or another, she would have to bid them farewell. And if she wanted any hope of remaining in Bloom Square, she must not only find her pets new homes, but undo a decade of social seclusion. In three weeks.
It all seemed hopeless.
“As it happens, Mr. Duke, you are going to get your wish. The animals will be gone within the month, one way or another.”
“Good.”
“In fact, it’s entirely possible that I’ll be gone, too.”
“Wait.” His eyebrows converged in a frown. “What did you say?”
“My
