Page 42 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
For a man who had been so full of offers the night they had met, the Duke really had clammed up now. When Penelope perhaps craved a compliment from a man.
But the thought only made more guilt spread through her when she thought of Finley asking if she wore low necklines to attract attention.
Her heart sank, and she mustered a smile.
“I was only trying it on,” she finished.
“I think you should buy it,” Lady Arabella murmured, gazing at the dress in envy. “And you are not a spinster!”
Penelope scoffed. “I am, for certain. It is a wonder my brother has not sent me off to the countryside to fester in isolation and to not be an embarrassment to him, as the ton says.”
“Ignore the ton.”
The Duke’s first words to her that day cut through the air, a firm command that drew her attention. His eyes were fixed on her fiercely, dropping lower, perhaps to her mouth, and then—Heavens, and then even lower, before his gaze snapped right back to her face.
“They are hard to ignore, Your Grace,” she said politely. “And I would be nothing but a fool to wear a dress so revealing to the next ball like an attention-hungry—” She broke off, so as not to call herself a nasty name.
Cecilia scoffed. “You are not a fool,” she said. “But you will be if you do not buy such an exquisite dress. You are indeed the forbidden fruit I told you that you should be, no?”
Penelope’s face burned, wondering what the Duke thought of such a description. “I will change out of it.”
“And we all know why your brother does not send you to the countryside, Pen,” Cecilia added as Penelope disappeared into the changing area to slip out of the dress, trying not to burn from humiliation.
Who was she, really, to try on such a beautiful piece?
She heard Cecilia speak again, but not to her. “Do you have a taste for fruit, Your Grace? Pomegranates, perhaps?”
Penelope put the bold gown back on its holding and dressed in her own, modest dress, stifling a groan at how tightly it constricted her curves.Thisdress was one she felt squeezed into, suffocated and overheated.
When she emerged, she found fewer eyes on her. Lady Arabella and Cecilia were discussing an upcoming ball, but the Duke immediately sought her. He raised an eyebrow at her gown as if the difference was startling, and he quickly gave her a nod before turning back to his sister.
“My brother insisted I be equipped with a new wardrobe, as I believe there are some themed balls coming up, and I worried I did not have anything appropriate to wear,” Lady Arabella was saying. “If it is not too bold to ask you both, I would love it if you stayed for my fittings. My brother may purchase the dresses, but he will simply tell me they all look nice—and I do not want to looknice. I want to look?—”
“Stunning,” Cecilia cut in. “Daring, a vixen seeking her prey?—”
“Less of that in my presence, at least, Lady Wetherby,” the Duke said, clearing his throat and looking uncomfortable. “In fact, perhaps I should visit the nearby gentlemen’s club while you try on your gowns, Arabella.”
“Oh, do not be shy, Your Grace,” Cecilia crooned. “Join us ladies—or are you afraid of so much feminine energy?”
The Duke looked painfully out of place as he tugged on his high collar, but his expression remained impassive. “Of course not. I shall stay.”
“I really ought to get back home,” Penelope piped up, her nerves gnawing through her the longer she remained in his presence, feeling off-kilter every time his attention landed on her.
“Oh, you shall stay, too,” Cecilia ordered, her eyes gleaming as if she was orchestrating the whole thing. “In fact, Your Grace, you must fascinate us with tales of your life. I am sure there have been many of late?”
Lady Arabella sighed. “He does not speak aboutof late,” she said. “Do not try to get it out of him.”
“I do have my ways of getting any man to do as I wish,” Cecilia all but purred, winking at Penelope as if she was in on the whole thing.
Eventually, she pulled Penelope to sit alongside her, with the Duke between them. He was stiff as Lady Arabella was taken into the changing room, the fabric bunched in the assistant’s arms.
“It is very admirable of you, Your Grace, to accompany Lady Arabella to her fittings,” Cecilia said, starting up the conversation. “Do you not think it is admirable, Lady Penelope?” She leaned around the Duke, shooting Penelope a look.
Penelope shot her own back as if silently asking her friend to behave.
“Indeed,” she answered. “Most admirable.”
She shot Cecilia another warning look, but her friend merely smirked.
