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At the mention of Odette, Penelope’s mind began to work in a different direction altogether. She knotted her fingers together, and bit down on her lip.

“Do you… require an heir?”

Alexander blinked, startled. Of all the things she could’ve said next, he hadn’t anticipated that. In fact, even she had not expected herself to ask a question like that.

“I mean,” she rushed on, cheeks reddening with color, “it’s just something I’ve wondered. You haven’t said anything about it since we married. And I know it’s what’s expected of a duchess, eventually.”

“Does this have something to do with what George said?” Alexander asked, not missing a beat.

Penelope bit down on her lip, “Perhaps it floated the idea into my mind.”

“You should not care about what he thinks, nor pay any heed to it,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but that is beside the point,” she said, flustered. “It is something that is expected from a peer's wife, and I would have had the thought myself, even if Father did not bring it up.”

He studied her for a moment, and Penelope found herself wondering yet again what he must be thinking. She wished she could peer into his mind, and find out all that occupies it.

That, she thought, would make her life much easier.

“You think I married you for that?” he asked finally.

“You told me why you married me,” she sighed. “I do not have any doubts about that. But…”

“But what?” he took a step closer to her, making her back away slightly. Her back was towards the wall now.

“I’m satisfied with raising Odette,” she went on, trying to keep her voice calm. “She’s clever and stubborn and a challenge in all the best ways. But… if producing an heir is part of what’s required, I can do it.”

Alexander’s gaze shifted, just slightly. There was a darkness in his eyes now, but not one that was terrifying. He stepped closer, until the space between them was all but gone.

“Do you know what having an heir means?” he asked quietly.

Penelope swallowed. Her throat had gone inexplicably dry.

“It means… children,” she said.

“It means more than that,” he gave a slow shake of his head. “It means claiming each other. In every sense. Did your sister not tell you that before you married?”

Penelope’s breath caught in her chest, and her mind started to spin.

His tone wasn’t crude, nor even overtly suggestive, but it felt intense. She had never seen him like this.

He reached forward, slowly, and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered near her cheek, then drifted just briefly to brush the side of her neck. It made her shiver.

“You speak so easily of duty,” he murmured, still dragging his hand down the side of her neck.“But this would not be like setting a place at a table or managing the household accounts.”

Penelope tried to find her voice but no words would come out when he was that close to her.

He tilted his head, gaze fixed on her lips.

“I’m not in the habit of asking for things I do not need,” he said quietly. “And I don’t need an heir. So you may stop worrying.”

She blinked, unsure whether the flutter in her stomach was relief or disappointment. He withdrew his hand.

“And I am not sure if you are prepared for what comes along with it,” he said, his gaze dropping to her lips again. She felt a strange sensation swirling inside of her, something that she had only felt before when she read her novels.

For a moment, she wondered if he was going to reach out to her and touch her again. It surprised her that she wanted him to , though the thought made her blush immediately.

“What if I am?” she said, finally finding her voice to speak.

“Then god help me.”

With that, Alexander stepped back, slowly. He gave her one last look, “Goodnight, wife.”

Penelope didn’t respond. She watched him retreat down the corridor, footsteps disappearing into the quiet.

Her hand drifted absently to the place on her neck where he had touched her. It still tingled.

She stood there for a few moments longer after he was gone, wondering if that conversation had meant nothing to him at all.

Did it mean anything to her?

Penelope wasn’t the sort of woman who fooled easily, not even by her own heart. But she could feel it happening.

She was beginning to fall for him.

If it was not that, then why did she care about what he thought? And why did his words hold so much weight for her?

It was a startling realization. She made her way back to her room eventually, but the silence there felt louder somehow.

She sat at her vanity and stared at her reflection. The flush on her cheeks hadn’t faded. Her lips were slightly parted, and her fingers curled around the edge of the table.

She had asked him a question about duty. And he had answered her with something dangerously close to pining.

Penelope let out a quiet sigh, then reached for her hairbrush. But even as she began brushing through her hair, her thoughts lingered on the conversation.

Claiming each other.

She knew what it meant. Of course she did. She did not need Isadora to lecture her to understand.

But was she prepared for it?