Page 41 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Cecilia turned and let out a gasp of excitement. “Yes!” she cried, rushing to her feet. “Penelope, this is perfect.”
“No,” Penelope answered quickly. “Absolutely not. It—it will be too revealing.”
“Exactly.” Cecilia raised her eyebrows in a way that dared her—thattoldher to take more risks. That told her she had taken too few already, and that was likely why her life had not changed at all. She took the dress and tugged Penelope to her feet. “Go, go! I want you twirling in this gown immediately—a glorious Aphrodite emerging from her clam.”
Penelope scoffed, not believing the comparison.
“Come on, Pen. Your brother is nowhere to be seen, and this is not the services of Mr. Gray. It is hardly a challenge. Just try it on, that is all. Let me admire you.” Cecilia rolled her shoulders back sensually. “Show a little décolletage, and for Heaven’s sake, air out your skin—it is as flushed as a summer beetroot.”
Penelope hesitated a moment longer, making both Cecilia and the assistant wait for her.
Minutes ticked by until she finally sighed and relented, snatching the dress from Cecilia’s hands. She disappeared behind the partition but poked her head out once, playfully scowling at her friend.
“I am only trying it on.”
Cecilia blew her a kiss. “Of course.”
Penelope refused the help of the assistant and pulled the dress on herself, adjusting it so it fell right.
She caught her own gaze in the mirror, about to dismiss the dress, but then she stopped, giving herself another look.
The beautiful fabric felt like water pouring over her skin, hugging every curve, and not in a way that made her feel stuffed into the gown, but as if it was made to fit a lady with her figure.
Her breasts were cupped securely, and the skirt fluttered around her legs and ankles prettily. The lacing on the sleeves was stunning, with beautiful threads cutting through the bodice, drawing the eye to the low neckline. It was far lower cut than any gown she already had, and her face flushed at the thought of being seen in it.
If Finley disapproved of her usual gowns, he would simply collapse at this one.
Perhaps he does not have to know about it, she thought, and then berated herself, for she would not buy it.
What use did she have for a daring, sensual gown?
“Make haste, Penelope. Let me see,” Cecilia’s eager voice rang out.
Gingerly, Penelope stepped out, facing her friend… right as the bell chimed above the dressmaker’s door.
Her gaze was drawn to the two people who had walked in.
Her heart stopped dead in her chest as she faced the Duke of Blackstone.
Her chest flushed for far different reasons than a high collar, for it was now practically spilling out of her dress. She had nothing to quickly cover up with, but she saw the Duke’s eyes land on hers.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and she swore she saw him miss his step and stumble, but he so quickly composed himself that she thought she had made it up.
“Speaking of Hades,” Cecilia muttered under her breath, smirking at her as the Duke, alongside Lady Arabella, approached.
“Cecilia,” Penelope hissed, about to disappear back into the changing area, but her friend kept her there, anchored, as if she wished for Penelope to be looked at.
Lady Arabella drew forward quickly, a gasp falling from her full lips. “Lady Penelope! What a stunning gown! Heavens, it is made for you.”
“Does she not look positively poured into it?” Cecilia said, smug on Penelope’s behalf.
Penelope fought not to meet the Duke’s gaze, even as she ached to hear his thoughts. But he remained silent, only staring at her with an expression she did not let herself look at long enough to understand.
“Indeed,” Lady Arabella said. “You are buying it, yes?”
“No,” Penelope said, right as Cecilia said, “Yes.”
Penelope shot her a glare before speaking again. “No. For what need would a spinster like me have for a dress so beautiful?”
