Page 27 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“I do hope that is all it is,” Arabella bemoaned.
“Oh, do ignore them all, these ladies of the ton,” Cecilia told her, raising her voice so the ladies around her could hear. “They have nothing better to do than gossip. You are a beautiful, accomplished lady with excellent manners and a fine upbringing. You have nothing at all to fear from any woman here.”
“I agree,” Penelope said, placing a hand on Arabella’s shoulder.
The girl froze for a moment, as if unused to being touched, but then quickly relaxed with a grateful smile to them all.
“The right man will come along. I do not doubt that His Grace wants to see you happily courted.”
“Thank you,” Arabella said, her delicate eyebrows lifted in soft gratitude. “I am so grateful for your kindness.”
“We would not let a young lady wander through these social mazes alone. One might get lost.” Cecilia nodded sternly, stepping forward to offer her arm. “Come, we should take a turn around the room. Perhaps we might see if a suitor catches your eye. I can introduce you.”
“Oh, but my brother?—”
“He seems otherwise occupied with your cousin,” Cecilia noted.
“Do take a turn,” Mary urged. “I miss those days. It was ever so exciting. Simply giggling, smiling at the suitors, seeing who returned the attention.”
“You deserve to have fun, Arabella,” Penelope added, slightly quieter, giving her an encouraging nod.
She did not know what it was like for Arabella to endure her brother’s absence for seven years, but it could not have been easy. Now was the time she released her worries and let herself enjoy her debut.
“If His Grace approaches and you have not returned, we will cover for you, if you like,” Penelope offered.
“That is if he does not catch me first.” Arabella giggled, still blushing as Cecilia gently tugged her away.
In their absence, Penelope shifted so she faced the ballroom, trying to keep an eye on her brother, who was occupied once again with Lord Frederick. The two looked deep in conversation, their expressions tense.
Hopefully, it would keep him busy for a while.
As she looked around, her eyes landed on the Duke of Blackstone, only to freeze when she found him already looking at her.
She shivered, quickly averting her gaze.
“We saw your brother introduce you to His Grace,” Daphne teased, her voice light. “How was it? Did he reference your nightly meeting?”
“You know full well if he had, I would not be standing here, speaking with you. Finley would have likely herded me into the carriage, never to attend another event. Besides, he likely does not even remember me.”
“It does not look that way,” Mary pointed out.
At the ladies’ attention, Penelope noticed that the Duke finally looked away.
“Finley introduced us politely enough,” she told her friends. “But he warned His Grace that no suitor here is good enough for me, and the Duke acted as though we had never met. I believe I am safe, and if he changes his mind, it will only cause Finley to ask him why he lied about not knowing me.”
“I hope you are safe,” Daphne murmured, the three of them huddling together again. “I really do not feel he is safe company, Penelope. He looks at you as though… I do not know. It is not the way Finley watches you, but perhaps as though you are something rare and he wishes to discover it himself.”
“I agree,” Mary whispered, as if the Duke would overhear them from across the ballroom. “He is dangerous, violent even. If you can keep a wide berth, do so. Heavens, I think of Arabella, now trapped with him. Though she seems pleased to have her brother back.”
Penelope nodded thoughtfully, though she could not help the question: if the Duke of Blackstone was so dangerous, was Arabella merely unaware of that? Did the Duke somehow hide his darker side from his sister? Was that why the suitors steered clear of her? Because they did not want to tarnish their reputations by being involved with the Blackstones?
The questions in her head swirled and swirled until she could not think of them any longer, for she would not get answers. If Arabella was unsafe, Penelope could only hope she would alert them.
Eventually, the music shifted into a gentle waltz. The melody built prettily, and that familiar pang of loneliness hit Penelope. Her heart ached at the tenderness of the music, but it had been a long, long time since she had danced a waltz with a suitor. Beyond that, she knew she would not be asked, for suitors feared Finley’s interference.
Daphne and Mary both looked up to see their husbands, Harry and Stephen, approaching them, charming smiles on their faces.
Mary immediately was drawn to Stephen, the love she had for her husband clear on her face as he took her hand.
