Page 5 of Claimed by Her Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #6)

Chapter Five

“I rather like your dress today, Pen. Is it one of the new ones I bought for you last month?”

Sunlight poured into the dining hall of Langwaite Manor the morning after Penelope’s failed attempt at a night of freedom. She had yet to write to her friends and tell them. It was only then that she recalled that they had, in fact, decided to meet for tea to discuss her night.

Having been engrossed in the floating dust motes highlighted by the morning sun, Penelope started, jumping back into her chair. The compliment slid over her skin like the soft rays of the sun at the beginning of summer, making her shoulders curl inward.

“Oh,” she said, her voice cracking. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Finley knows .

Her eyes flickered to her stepbrother, who merely looked at her. He was sitting at the head of the table, Penelope herself to his left.

“How was your night?”

Oh, goodness, he does know. He knows. He knows ? —

“I did not get to greet you properly when I came home, but I am sure you understand I had my obligations to Lord Frederick. Business discussions got quite heated.”

Penelope forced her stiff shoulders to relax. He was merely enquiring, thinking he had neglected her to venture out to his gentlemen’s club after the dinner party.

“It was nice. I merely relaxed with a glass of wine in the parlor.”

Wrong answer , she thought, as Finley furrowed his brow.

“Do not drink too much wine, Pen. You may get a taste for it, and keep on drinking it at our social events. I shall not have anybody taking advantage of you when you are inebriated.”

She nodded.

Her story was not entirely a lie. After her nerves had been frayed outside the escort’s house, she truly had come home to drink a glass of wine, avoiding her brother, pretending to be asleep when he had called out for her upon his return.

“I will be most careful,” she assured him.

She thought he would nod and return to his breakfast, but he only frowned, looking at her for a moment longer.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You have barely touched your breakfast. I felt quite guilty after last night, seeing how I made you feel after dinner when you questioned me about joining you in the drawing room with the ladies. I admit it caused me to ask our cook to serve your favorites for breakfast.”

Finley’s smile should have been a comfort, but Penelope’s stomach clenched, guilty for her actions.

“See? Brioche and dried apple pie.”

“It is all very delicious, Brother.” Penelope tried to keep her smile bright, but she knew she was not fooling him. Under his concerned gaze, she helped herself to a slice of brioche, eating with forced enthusiasm. “Thank you for thinking of this.”

“Of course. Anything for my dear sister.”

Anything but allowing me to speak to suitors, pushing me to venture where I did last night.

But she kept her thoughts to herself. She was not sure what shamed her more: not seeing her evening through properly, being caught by a duke, or thinking of entertaining Julian Gray in the first place.

Her face flushed just thinking about the man who had caught her loitering by the back door.

Had she been only a few seconds faster, what would she have done? Would she have become a changed woman by now? Would she have found an excuse and fled whether or not the Duke had turned up?

As if controlled by puppet strings, she chewed her piece of brioche, her mind detached and far from the breakfast table.

She recalled the eyes of the Duke of Blackstone, and another deep flush spread across her face, reminded of his words the night before, his taunting offer.

She pushed him out of her mind and continued to eat.

“Brother, you must tell me how your meeting with Lord Frederick went,” she said gently, for if there was one thing she did know for sure, it was that her brother loved to talk about himself, and that would be the thing to stop him from looking at her so worriedly.

“Ah, indeed, I must. So, he has brought up the involvement of a scholar friend of his who lectures in Oxford…”

As he launched into his tale, Penelope nodded at the right moments, made comments when he hesitated, and altogether forced herself to put on the perfect display.

* * *

The butler entered the library, where Penelope had been browsing the book spines.

Behind her, Finley had his eyes on the open book in his lap, but she knew he was not really paying attention.

Undoubtedly, he was waiting to see which book she would choose, ensuring it was befitting of a lady.

“Lady Penelope, Lady Ayersfield is here to see you,” the butler said.

Before Penelope could utter a word, Finley stood up. “Thank you, Jenkins. I shall see to our guest.”

“But she is my friend,” Penelope protested. “This is Daphne. You… you said she was the nicer of the three if you had to personally choose.”

“Is she the one married to the Marquess?”

“That is Cecilia, the Marchioness of Wetherby.” Trying to ignore how his dislike of her friends stung, Penelope teased through it. “Come now, Finley, you must differentiate my friends so you may remember whom you like. I shall see to Daphne. She is not a suitor.”

As if disliking the audacious way Penelope talked back, Finley sighed. “Fine. Jenkins, send Lady Ayersfield in.”

Moments later, Daphne appeared, her eyes immediately sliding to Finley and then back to Penelope as she embraced her.

Holding her for a moment longer, she whispered, “Why does he insist on shadowing you?”

Penelope laughed loudly in case Finley had overheard. “Finley and I were simply reading together. Were we not, Brother?”

“Hmm.” Finley raised an eyebrow at Daphne. Penelope did not know if he had heard the comment or not. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Ayersfield?”

Daphne turned to him, her smile present but tight, polite. “The ladies and I discussed seeing one another at my residence today. As you know, I had my son several months ago, but my daughter is almost three years old. She is coming along very well with her painting.”

“At three years old?”

Daphne blinked. “Yes. Yes, indeed. She is very skilled. I thought Lady Penelope might wish to visit and see her paintings. I am most proud.”

“As I shall be,” Penelope quickly answered. “I would be delighted. We shall go immediately.”

“Wait.”

Finley’s order rang out, and Penelope stiffened.

This is it. This is when he reveals he knows I was at Julian Gray’s house.

Slowly, he approached her, and the back of her neck prickled.

“When do you expect this afternoon to end?” he asked Daphne.

“I am sure no longer than a handful of hours.”

“I see. And Lady Wetherby shall be there?”

“Indeed,” Daphne confirmed. “Along with myself and Lady Bathurst.”

Penelope saw Finley’s lip curl out of the corner of her eye, and she held her breath. But he nodded, eventually.

“Very well,” he said. “I shall be in the carriage to pick you up four hours from now.”

“Brother—”

“We have to discuss the preparations for Lord and Lady Townsend’s ball. I shall tell you which gentlemen will be there, so you know to steer clear. I will use my time today to collect an extensive list.”

Penelope almost argued that such lengths were not necessary, but she only nodded, wanting to keep her brother sweet so he did not back out of his agreement.

“I look forward to it.”

He only nodded, and Daphne was quick to tug her out of the library.

* * *

“Honestly, you cannot even read now without him lurking over your shoulder,” Daphne sighed, stirring a sugar cube into her tea as she sat in her parlor with Penelope.

“It is not uncommon for siblings to read together,” Penelope said defensively.

She felt guilty for speaking badly of Finley so often recently, especially when he had taken care enough to ask for her favorite breakfast treats.

“Do you bathe together, too?” The voice came from the doorway, and Penelope was hardly surprised to see Cecilia’s eyebrow raised, her jaw tight.

“Do not be so vulgar!” she cried, grinning when Cecilia and Mary entered, both of their expressions alight with curiosity.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before they questioned her about the events of the night before.

“Well, it is a good question, considering that he never leaves you alone,” Mary agreed. “I understand that he is your guardian and that he looked after you when your mother married his father, but he truly does push it. Dominique could not wait to have me out of his house after our parents passed away.”

“Yes, but that was so Dominique could spend his fortune on gambling and ladies of the night rather than new dresses,” Daphne teased.

Mary only batted her away, serving herself tea.

“Speaking of nighttime activities,” Cecilia said, taking up her own cup of tea, overtaking the conversation and steering it back to the very reason the four of them had gathered like gossiping old matrons. “We must address Penelope’s newfound lack of virtue.” She eyed Penelope as she sipped pointedly. “How was your gift?”

“Yes.” Mary giggled. “How was it, indeed? Was he everything ladies whisper him to be? Was he dashing? Attentive? Handsome?”

“Well-endowed?” Cecilia purred.

“Caring?” Daphne asked.

“He was… nothing,” Penelope answered, getting confused faces in return. “I did not go into his house.”

“What?” Cecilia frowned. “But my driver said you were gone for a while. I was rather excited.”

Penelope nodded. “I was gone for a while, but occupied by…” She hesitated. “The Duke of Blackstone.”

She did not expect her friends’ silence. They all blinked at her, their expressions ranging from Daphne’s frowned concern to Mary’s stunned pout to Cecilia’s smirk.

“Oh, Pen ,” Cecilia cried, cackling. “You little vixen! We set you up with an escort, but you sought a much more important man. Well, well played.”

“No!” Penelope said quickly. “No, you misunderstand. I was not with the Duke of Blackstone in such a way, but rather prevented from entering Julian Gray’s house. I tried to pass myself off as a maid, but he recognized my name because your driver spoke it, Cecilia. He told me… he told that he could offer what Julian Gray would and asked me why I was there.”

“What did you tell him?” Mary’s eyes widened. “You did not give him the details, did you?”

“Of course not!” Penelope protested. “I told him it was a personal matter and that it was none of his business.”

“Good,” Mary said, sighing. “I do not like the Duke. Perhaps he is nicer than gossip suggests, but… well, I know of his sister, Lady Arabella, and she has gone through a great deal of heartbreak because of him.”

“I know, I have heard many things,” Daphne added. “He reappeared two months ago, but before then…” She shuddered. “The ton says that he vanished into thin air one night and did not return for seven years. Not even when his sister was left defenseless, without proper provisions, until their cousin stepped in. He did not even return for the former Duke’s funeral. I heard that while he was gone, he killed a man.”

“One man? I heard he murdered several .” Despite Cecilia’s chilling words, her smirk only deepened. “Penelope, what have you gotten yourself into?” She looked proud, but Penelope could only feel panic.

“Whatever it is, do not continue it,” Mary told her. “He is dangerous, Pen. We encouraged your loss of virtue or at least some exploration, but we can simply book you back in with Mr. Gray. You do not need to seek out the Duke of Blackstone again.”

“I did not seek him out,” Penelope insisted. “It was happenstance.”

“I find it terribly exciting.” Cecilia giggled, her eyes twinkling. “Perhaps some danger is what you need to break up the monotony. It can be fun, and you of all people deserve a lot of fun. His Grace could be the very thing you need.”

Penelope didn’t know what to say to that. She blushed as she looked out the window, tempering her embarrassment. Still, she trusted her friends. The warnings and the encouragement. Cecilia’s boldness was a breath of fresh air, a perspective she often overlooked out of fear.

“I heard he once took a lady’s virtue right against the wall of a townhouse while a ball was going on inside,” Cecilia continued. “I do not care if I am the only one who thinks it is scandalously seductive. If my Reginald were to surprise me with such a daring act, I would not refuse.”

“Oh, Cecilia, do not be so improper!” Daphne muttered. “Heavens, you cannot be trusted in these conversations.”

“On the contrary, I believe I can be most trusted, for I am most experienced,” Cecilia countered, smiling smugly. “Reginald is tender with me when we make love. A truly confident man when he wants to be, but he knows I like to be held afterward.”

“That is… unexpectedly sweet.” Mary laughed softly before turning back to Penelope. “However, we must discuss the other issue at hand. Whether the Duke is dangerous or not, interested in you or not, he now knows something about you that could ruin your reputation. He could tell the whole ton that you were outside an escort’s house.”

“At your suggestion!” Penelope protested, defensive in her shame. “I never would have been caught had you not all insisted it was what I needed.”

“Teasing aside, Pen, I am truly sorry,” Cecilia said. “It was my idea in the first place, and I convinced Mary and Daphne it was a good idea. I did not see such a surprise coming, and only planned to blackmail Julian Gray should he ever leak his client list—which I do not believe he would.”

Daphne nodded. “We will protect you—our husbands shall, as well—if His Grace decides to spread the word. You will not face such gossip alone. His word alone has power due to his rank, but we would be at least six against him, and that is without your testimony.”

“Who would Finley believe?” Penelope found herself asking, and the ladies fell silent, thinking as she did.

He would fly into a rage, and the accusations would spew from his mouth, thinking that his precious, innocent sister had been influenced and taken advantage of.

Or, worse, he would accuse her of being a harlot.

“Regardless, ladies, thank you. But I do not feel as though His Grace would say anything. After all, what was he doing at Julian Gray’s house? He was clearly not there to be serviced.”

Mary sighed heavily. “Men always come out unscathed.”

“I disagree,” Daphne cut in. “The Duke of Blackstone’s reputation was pristine before he disappeared. Now, there are rumors that some places turn him away, even with his new title. To be found cornering an unchaperoned lady in the middle of the night, and outside an escort’s business no less? It would not do him any good.”

“Who cares?” Cecilia scoffed. “The point is what our dear Penelope shall do when she sees His Grace again.” She wiggled her eyebrows, eager for more excitement.

Even Penelope had to admit that this was the most exciting thing to happen to her in some time.

She blushed, staying quiet, but Cecilia only gave her that silent, knowing look, as if she somehow knew there had been moments the night before when Penelope had been mesmerized by the Duke’s commanding presence.

But whatever her friend was about to say was interrupted by the childish giggles coming from the doorway right as Daphne’s daughters hurried in.

“Mama!” Elizabeth, Daphne’s eldest, cried out, paint smeared on her dress covers, ready to cause some mischief.

“Oh, Heavens,” Cecilia groaned. “Look at all the paint. See, this is why I shall never have a child and will remain endlessly lavished in nightly affections by my husband, rather than worry about crying, paint-smeared babies.”

Still, Penelope saw the soft smile she gave Amelia as she pulled her onto her lap.

“Please keep your nightly affections talk to yourself when my children are present, Cecilia,” Daphne chided but grinned at her friend.

And as Daphne’s other daughter, Catherine, approached Penelope, her heart softened at the thought of one day having her own child, though she had long since kissed that dream goodbye.