Page 56 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“What is stopping you?” Mary asked, taking her hands in her own. Penelope cast a glance at the men before looking back at her friend. “I know we warned you against the Duke, but that is a case of not knowing him. If you get to know him, and your judgment is good, then we can trust that.”
“But that is the thing. He excites me in ways I did not think possible, but… well…” Penelope sighed, looking towards Finley. Her friend squeezed her hands. “If Finley discovers the truth, if he were to ever catch us… We were caught by Lady Arabella on the balcony, too lost in one another to hear her approach, but what if that had been Finley? I would be locked up forever.”
“And Daphne, Cecilia, and I would break you free,” Mary said decisively. “Pen, you must consider your own happiness! You are so capable and strong. You are still in London, at the height of social events. The countryside has not claimed you yet, not that it ever should. Make decisions based on your desires. I saw how hesitant you were regarding the evening with Mr. Gray, but I think that is more fear of Finley than your reservations. But you cannot live your life according to his whims. Whatever you desire, dear, it is yours. Itshouldbe yours.”
Penelope could not help but hold back an answer as she considered her friend’s advice. If she did indeed act on her desire, Finley’s reaction did not even bear thinking about. He had flown into a rage just at the sight of them dancing together.
If he found out that Edmund had kissed her breathless until the place between her legs ached for something to fill it…
And the public scandal. Did she truly wish for more gossip to follow her? To follow him?
“Your mind is ticking harder than a grandfather clock,” Mary noted. “It is very simple. You do not have to choose between your desires and your family, for you have already proven yourself a devoted sisteranda devoted daughter before that to the late Marquess of Langwaite. You lost your mother at a young age, so let your friends guide you. As a woman, you must make your choices—assert what autonomy you can. But you must secure a man who also honors that.
“They are few and far between in this society, and that irks me to no end, but the Duke… well, what Cecilia mentioned at the dressmaker’s has already begun to change my mind about him. He sounds as though he respects women’s autonomy. Defy expectations, Penelope, for it only means that you are making choices for yourself. That is the most powerful thing of all.”
Penelope basked in the encouragement even as the anxiety of knowing she would struggle to make that powerful choice crawled through her.
Before she could answer, Stephen and Finley returned, along with Emily and Amelia, who both presented flower crowns to her and Mary.
“Oh, this is absolutely stunning,” Penelope praised, taking her crown from Emily. “Shall I make you one now?”
Emily shook her head, pouting. “No. Mama taught me to make my own and not to wait for another person.”
At that, Stephen and Penelope burst out laughing.
“Oh, she is you, Mary.” Penelope giggled, giving Emily a soft hug before releasing the little girl to skip away and join Amelia further down the garden.
As she watched them, her gaze settled on Finley, who narrowed his eyes at her.
“So, what were you ladies discussing?” he asked, looking between them.
“The Southgate ball,” Mary said quickly. “I was asking Penelope what color I ought to wear, and she gave me the most wonderful advice, given her recent… attire.”
She tugged the two men into a sneaky discussion about which men would be in attendance, clearly trying to look out for Arabella.
Penelope allowed herself to consider the worst that could happen if she let herself be courted by Edmund.
Days passed, and she was occupied with mulling over what to wear for the Southgate ball. Would she keep her brother happy and wear something modest, or would she?—
With the question once again in mind, she let her gaze wander to her wardrobe, where the gown from Edmund was secretly stored away.
Her lady’s maid entered. “Are you ready to prepare for tonight’s ball, My Lady?”
Penelope nodded, standing up and approaching her vanity as her maid went to her wardrobe, searching for the dress she would wear at Finley’s request. But as soon as she saw the jade-colored monstrosity that would surely suffocate her beneath the warm air, her stomach clenched with anxiety.
No, no, she could not wear it. While Penelope wasn’t as vain as other women, she knew how self-conscious she would be in such an unflattering gown, knowing everybody would think the same.
“Actually,” she spoke up, her voice firm despite her nerves. “Not that one. I would like to wear the darker one.”
Her maid frowned, searching, for her brother opted to buy her dresses in pale shades, so a dark one was easily noticeable.
Penelope rushed over, pulling the secret dress from its hiding place. “It is new,” she explained.
Her maid gave her a small, knowing smile. “I think it will look lovely on you, My Lady.”
Her lady’s maid had seen her wither beneath Finley’s orders to change out of every dress she chose for herself. So, knowing that she was supported, knowing that Mary’s encouragement was the reason she was daring to even consider the dress at all, emboldened her.
Nerves ate through Penelope as she was dressed and primped, and by the end of it, her blonde hair was curled with a twine of braids pulling two sections back from her face, letting the rest loosely fall to brush the low, scooped back of her dress.
