Page 16 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“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.Ishall 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.”
