Page 29 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Do not pay them any mind,” the Duke told her, his voice low.
Her nerves formed into something with a sharp edge—something she could wield.
“That is easy for you to say,” she snapped. “You are a man. Nothing you ever do will be scrutinized.”
Instead of insulting him, she had only amused him, as he smirked at her. “I see. What evidence do you have for such an observation?”
Penelope fell silent. For a moment, she thought about challenging him about his reasoning for crossing paths with her the other night, but she did not want to be mistaken for blackmailing him.
His smirk widened. “That is what I thought.”
He led her through the dance for a few more minutes before he spoke again. All Penelope could think about was how warm he felt against her.
“I often let the music become a barrier. I pretend as though I do not hear anything, as long as there is music.”
She blinked, surprised by his words. “You do not strike me as the type to enjoy music as a pastime.”
“I have recently found myself haunting the backseats of orchestra performances.”
There was something in his expression that she could not untangle. The effort of trying only left her taking in his strong face. The prominent jawline, the trimmed beard, which seemed even more groomed than the other night. One eyebrow seemed permanently arched, as if the ton’s events either annoyed or bemused him. As if Penelope herself elicited such a reaction.
“And you,” he continued, “have you found yourself running any more late-night errands… Poppy?”
At the reminder of her false name, used in desperation, Penelope blushed. “No, I have not. I do not make it a habit. It was a one-time moment.”
“Of vulnerability and desire, or desperation, because of your brother’s overbearing nature?”
Penelope stumbled through the next step at his question, at him seemingly knowing and seeing through her once again, as he had that night. Her stumble almost had her tripping, but his arm tightened around her waist, and her breath caught at how hard he pulled her against him.
“Do not fall, My Lady,” he murmured, holding her gaze.
“Then do not attempt to disarm me with questions like that,” she said hotly, pulling back, but he kept her right where she was.
They fell back into step, and Penelope felt as though she was naked from head to toe beneath the weight of his attention.
“I am merely curious,” he said. “You seemed more flustered than insulted by my offer that night. If it is a pressing desire, then you must be willing to admit that there are easier ways than seeking the services of an escort. Gray is a man who knows his business, do not mistake me, but he is expensive.”
“Perhaps he is worth every penny,” Penelope countered.
“Perhaps another man will give you a far better night of pleasure without any payment.”
“And I suppose that man is you?”
Her accusation was flung out before she could control her words, and as soon as they were out, almost an acceptance of his offer, she blushed deeply. Her gaze fell to his corded neck, framed by his high collar and black cravat.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the emotion left her warm.
Heavens, he was making her nervous.
“So you confess, you have considered it,” he teased, smirking.
“I have thought nothing of the sort.”
“Then why will you not meet my eyes again?”
Penelope’s eyes snapped up to his, stubborn and embarrassed. She was aware of how hot her face was, how red she must have appeared, but she forced herself not to be intimidated.
A strong hand slid up her waist, and she became aware of how he held her gently. Suddenly, she could think of nothing else, and her breath came harsher as his hand stopped just beneath her ribcage.
