Page 19 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“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 yournightly affectionstalk 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.
ChapterSix
Edmund’s study was silent except for the scribble of his quill on paper.
He had not had this sort of complete, quiet peace in averylong time. Between the meetings he conducted to reconnect his businesses, the taverns he was invited to for drinks where he endured nobility wanting to get in close with the new Duke of Blackstone, and the hunt for information, he had barely sat down.
Now, the silence was almost deafening, and it pleased him.
Black ink filled the paper he wrote on, planning his visit to the Four-Fingered Hand, the gambling den Julian had told him about. It wasn’t far from his townhouse at all, perhaps a short fifteen-minute carriage ride. If he went on foot, it wouldn’t take much longer and would allow him to investigate more discreetly.
The manager of the seedy place was Mr. Martin, a man Edmund had not yet learned a great deal about. But he would soon.
He was writing down a schedule for his investigation when the door creaked.
For a moment, he mourned his peace, only to look up and see his younger sister poking her face around the door. His heart clenched, guilt flooding him as it often did when he saw Arabella.
I was not enough for you, he thought as she stepped into the study, looking unsure of herself.
“May I come in?” she asked, her voice light and gentle.
He only gestured as if to say,you have already entered.
Her eyes, a lighter shade than his own, so pale they were almost ice-blue, looked him over, and he merely gazed back at her.
Arabella shifted, and he lowered his eyes, disliking that he made her nervous. Yet they had not seen one another for seven years, and Arabella had gone through several terrible years without him. He had failed her, even as he had fought for her every day.
He blinked—blood splattered over his knuckles, and he blinked again, watching his skin become clear.
That part of his life was over; his duty was here, in the halls of his townhouse.
His duty was to be the older brother Arabella had been deprived of.
“Brother, you have been doing this for hours,” she noted. “Are you sure you are not exhausting yourself? Hours in your study throughout the day, and endless nightly excursions. I am uncertain when you actually lie down in your bed.”
He gave a tight smile at his parchment. “My bed and I will be acquainted soon. I will rest once I know who is responsible for everything that happened to our family.”
Usually, his curt responses would have Arabella nodding awkwardly before she skittered out of the room. Yet, today, she crossed his study on light feet and sat in the chair opposite him, his desk separating them.
“Brother.”
He continued writing, trying to think of places he could dig up information on the gambling den’s manager before he arrived and?—
“Edmund.”
He looked up at once at his sister’s sharp tone. Her face was strained with concern.
“You have been obsessed with this search ever since you returned. I understand why, but you deserve—no, youneed—a break, a moment to breathe. A moment to simply be back, to be with family. Friends.”
Friends.
