Page 44 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Do you think so?” In a shimmering gown of silver, Lady Arabella twirled, the sleek skirt rippling down her legs.
Cecilia brushed past Penelope, approaching the young lady. “Darling, weknowso!” she cooed. “You are dazzling. Utterly radiant in this gown.”
Trying to be bolder than she had been moments before, Penelope turned to face the Duke, finding his eyes not on his sister, but on her.
As soon as he was caught, his gaze quickly flicked to Lady Arabella, and he rose to his feet.
“Well?” Lady Arabella asked, hopeful. “What do you think?”
Behind the women, the Duke paused, his mouth pinched. It was not the sneer that Finley often sported when Penelope wore something beautiful, knowing that the beauty was an attempt to feel stunning while attracting suitors, but the consideration of a truly protective older brother.
“The important thing is whatyouthink,” Cecilia countered, appraising Lady Arabella again. “You are a divine woman—empower yourself!”
Lady Arabella giggled, clearly high on Cecilia’s encouragement. “I must empower the man with the coins to buy the dress.”
“I would buy you whatever pleases you,” the Duke told her, sending a rippling silence through the three women.
Penelope shivered at his firm tone, the power in his words, the simple ease of purchasing as though it was not a large issue.
“This pleases me,” Lady Arabella told him, smiling gently.
Penelope stole a glance at the Duke, whose stern assessment had softened as he nodded. “Then it is yours, along with any others you desire.”
“How I wish I had such a man guarding me when I was a debutante,” Cecilia sighed, placing a hand on her forehead.
But in her teasing, she looked slyly between Penelope and the Duke, wiggling her eyebrows. Penelope pretended not to see.
Finley always bemoaned her expensive tastes, complaining that she was far too high-maintenance for a woman who had nowhere to be, no engagements to speak of, and no courtship to entertain. He often told her that the fancier gowns could be saved for such situations, but each day took Penelope further and further away from that hope.
Seeing the Duke regard his sister, so eager to make her happy, gave her pause. She had thought him cold and reserved, and yet that soft smile had still to disappear from his face. But as soon as his gaze caught hers, it vanished.
Penelope turned away quickly.
“I am buying my dress,” Cecilia announced, stalking into the partition alongside Lady Arabella’s, leaving Penelope alone with the Duke for a moment.
Side by side, they stood closely, waiting for both ladies.
“And your dress, Lady Penelope?” His voice was so low, as if he was shielding them from the eavesdropper that had disappeared behind the curtain.
“I do not think it is for me,” she said quickly, turning away.
A brush of fingers on her wrist made her pause, as if he made to ask her to stay there. But when she looked down, his hands were hanging at his sides, and she convinced herself that she had imagined him reaching for her.
“It is… The dress implies attending a certain house that offers certain services. Some ladies do not align with such things.”
“But when a lady strips back the specifics, she might,” he murmured. “Take away the house and find out why the lady was there, and perhaps she has a right to belong—toseek.”
The suggestion of her seeking desire at the escort’s house flared through Penelope, and she was sure her heated skin was not helped by her stifling dress.
She gave a tight smile as she drew away. Finley’s anger flashed through her mind, and she swallowed, nodding politely at the Duke to excuse herself.
By the time Cecilia had emerged, the Duke had moved to the counter at the other end of the shop to settle Lady Arabella’s bill, counting up the numerous dresses she had already chosen and continued to try on, even after assuring Cecilia and Penelope they were free to go about their day.
Cecilia settled her account in Reginald’s name and then turned to Penelope. “All we need to do is mention that the Marquess of Langwaite will settle your bill, and that gorgeous dress is yours, Penelope.”
She raised an eyebrow, both judging Penelope’s reluctance and suggestive of the daring woman she could be if only she wasn’t afraid of her brother’s temper and control.
Quickly, Penelope shook her head. “No. No, I cannot.”
