Page 25 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Surprising, yes,” Edmund muttered. “I have been busy.”
Finley glanced sideways at him, smirking. “Seeking other company, I see. Perhaps some townhouses in those shadier streets of London?”
Edmund shook his head quickly, insulted. “No.”
“It is fine, we all seek a little company from time to?—”
Irritated, Edmund cut him off. “I have been searching for something.”
“What are you searching for?” The Marquess’s eyes went wide, interested.
“Who,” Edmund corrected.
Finley’s face lit up as he leaned in. “It sounds intriguing. Do tell me more, Blackstone.”
“That is all there is to say.”
“Come now, I am sure there is more.”
But Edmund refused, keeping resolute in his silence. He wished to keep his cards close to his chest. While he knew Finley, there was a gleam to his eyes akin to Benjamin’s, and the fewer people involved in his investigation the better.
He knew how to silence people; if he roped innocent men into the mix who could be tempted to speak, his whole plan would be ruined.
“There is no more,” he finally said, seeing Finley stiffen in offense.
Perhaps the title had gone to Finley’s head. He had always been a little privileged in getting what he wanted.
“Excuse me,” Finley said, giving him a quick nod. “I see a business partner of mine I must greet.”
Before Edmund could say anything else, Finley walked away, leaving him alone.
It was a strange thing, to be standing in a room full of people he had grown up among, only to feel isolated. Apart from the crowd.
Without thinking, his gaze strayed to Lady Penelope, noting how the blonde strands of her hair nestled among the darker ones shone like threads of gold beneath the chandelier. He watched her discreetly.
That was until Benjamin came to bother him.
“Good evening, Cousin. I trust your adventures the other night led to prosperous places?”
Edmund bit back an annoyed sigh as he nodded once. “Indeed.”
His thoughts strayed to the list Julian had given him, now written out, locked away in his desk drawer.
“Will you not ask about the rest of my evening that night?” Benjamin nudged him.
“I am not as invested in your life as you are in mine, Cousin.”
“I see, I see. A shame, really. I wished to boast about a lovely lady I bumped into at a tavern. She is a traveling performer, and…”
His cousin rambled, clearly looking for some attention, or perhaps praise for giving his attention to a woman far below his status. No doubt he had already set her up in an apartment somewhere to visit when he pleased.
Benjamin was like that, Edmund was learning. Helpful, needing to be the one providing for others. But Edmund, in his lack of interest, found himself looking at Lady Penelope once again.
She wore a gown that, while flattering in itself, did not make her stand out, and yet it seemed quite impossible that she would not. Her petite figure was further dwarfed by the height of a black-haired lady in her group, but Penelope stood differently to them as well, he noticed. Her shoulders tended to curl inwards, and she often linked her fingers together, as if trying to be small.
Was that her disposition, or was it an attempt to not be noticed by suitors her brother seemed intent on keeping her away from anyway?
If he had to guess, the other ladies were married, given the way they did not assess the ballroom with the keen gaze of a lady on the marriage mart.
