Page 32 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
A man who had ignited something new in her during their dance—a man who looked at her as though she was more than an insignificant lady, more than a spinster already written off.
And although she could not find the Duke of Blackstone in the thick crowd, he did not leave her thoughts for the rest of the evening.
* * *
Edmund strode through the ballroom, trying to forget the feel of Lady Penelope in his embrace.
Soft curves that fit into his palms so perfectly, her face pinched in gentle confusion, and the hair that had tumbled down her back, brushing his hand where he had held her?—
Stop this, he berated himself.
Why were his thoughts so fixated on her suddenly?
Shaking off the lingering heat he had felt during the dance, he focused on finding Arabella. He should have kept a closer eye on her. It was not her first ball, he knew that, but he wanted to make sure she was doing all right nonetheless. She was his charge, after all.
When he found her near the terrace doors at the far end of the ballroom, he forced himself to be calm, collected. Still, his instincts to protect her flared, and he fixed an expectant smile on his face as he smoothly inserted himself into their conversation.
“Brother—”
“Good evening,” he said, briefly nodding to Arabella but looking at the lord. “Lord Graham, is it not? I do not believe we have been formally introduced. I am the Duke of Blackstone, Lady Arabella’s brother.”
His words were pointed, a veiled reminder for the lord to be on his best behavior in his presence.
The young man’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly before moving to shake Edmund’s hand. “It is, indeed. Lord Graham. My parents are?—”
“The Earl and Countess of Avendale,” Edmund finished, shaking the man’s hand with more force than was necessary. “I am aware, yes.”
Lord Graham’s eyes widened. “Yes—yes, of course you are aware. I imagine being a duke gives you a lot of knowledge of who is who at these events.”
“Indeed.” Edmund arched an eyebrow. “Including their secrets, lives that they hide away. Any foul play. Nothing escapes my notice, Lord Graham.”
“Brother,” Arabella whispered, furrowing her brow, cross with him.
Edmund continued, “If I recall correctly, the Avendales have several business ventures, no?”
“Yes!” Lord Graham said, his voice high-pitched. “All very profitable, Your Grace.”
“And do you have sufficient estates worthy of a duke’s sister?”
“Brother!” Arabella cried again, but Lord Graham was thinking before he nodded once again.
“I-I believe so.”
“Believe so, or know?” Edmund questioned.
“I know,” Lord Graham corrected, a slight flush rising to his face.
“And should you marry my sister, Lord Graham, as many suitors tonight likely intend to, when should the following news be broken?”
“Following news, Your Grace?”
“Children,” Edmund clarified. “How soon do you expect to produce an heir?”
“Oh, Heavens,” Arabella muttered under her breath.
But Edmund only took in the young man—his red curls and his bright blue eyes—and then glanced at his sister, with all her dark features, and hummed.
“Children, yes.” Lord Graham cleared his throat. “Well, of course, I-I mean?—”
