Page 69 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Out of my daughters, do you think any of them will grow up to be like Cecilia?” Daphne wondered aloud, making Penelope chortle.
“Do you hope for that, or very desperately hope against it?”
“On the one hand, Cecilia was the second of us to be wed, and I hope my daughters will have easy, successful Seasons. Preferably their first. But if it does not happen, I will always make sure that they know it is not their fault. So, as a woman, I hope they will be like her, but as a mother… Heavens, no, I do not hope so.”
Penelope laughed at Daphne’s confession, and her friend grinned back. “How about most similar to Mary, then? At least you will know that Catherine and Elizabeth will likely grow up around Emily and Amelia, and they are already so very much like her. They are almost the same age and can look out for one another.”
Daphne nodded. “That is true.” She paused. “Do you think Cecilia will give Reginald children?”
“I believe so,” Penelope said. “But right now, it seems she is enjoying not being a mother.”
“Veryloudlyenjoying it.” Daphne giggled.
She made comments like that more frequently when they were alone, and it always made Penelope laugh.
Daphne wasn’t pressuring her, did not push her to go too far out of her comfort zone, but still gently encouraged her to be bolder.
“And you?” she asked as she worked another thread for the cardigan she was knitting for her baby boy, Jeremy. Penelope herself was knitting some boots for him. “Will you have children?”
“That would require me to have a husband first,” Penelope answered. “Although, on the topic of men… Daphne, may I tell you something that, for now, must remain a secret between us?”
Daphne glanced at the doorway before leaning in. “You may tell me anything, Pen. I am your confidante.”
“I know you all warned me about the Duke of Blackstone, except for Cecilia’s very bold encouragement, but I could not stay away. I told Mary that we kissed at the opera house?—”
Daphne gasped. “You did not!” She was scandalized, but her lips curled into a smile. “Penelope!”
“I know, I know.” Penelope winced. “It simply… happened. Whenever we bicker, we somehow end up…”
“Kissing?”
“And more,” she whispered, covering her face. “At the ball last night, there was more. He—” She cleared her throat, aware of her burning cheeks. “His Grace made himself familiar with my intimate place.” Her eyes darted to her lap and then back up. “If you understand me.”
“Heavens, Penelope! At a public ball?”
“I know!” she cried again. “I know. But as I said, it simplyhappens, and I cannot control the urge I feel whenever he is near. I do not know what comes over me. When we are in the same room, I cannot help but feel so attuned to him. I am always aware of his presence, and it is like my body aches to be nearer to him. So when he touched me last night, I felt as though a long-slumbering part of me woke up. A part that has never cracked an eye open in the first place.”
Perhaps there was something in her voice, something cracking and vulnerable, for Daphne’s expression turned from stunned to more sympathetic as she set down her embroidery. Penelope did the same, sighing.
“How do you feel?” Daphne asked. “Both after… waking up and about liking somebody your brother undoubtedly would not approve of. Then again, we both know that your brother could meet a suitor who is excellently behaved with no secrets and acres of land and wealth, and he still would not think him good enough.”
“I feel…” Penelope trailed off, gazing down at the patterned rug beneath the rocking chairs Daphne had requested to be brought into the parlor. “I do not know. All that I know is that my body aches for him. I barely sleep because my thoughts are preoccupied with how he might look above me in my bed, and then I continue thinking of all the very indecent ways he might touch me again. Daph, is that terrible?”
“It is not terrible,” Daphne murmured, taking her hand. “You are in lust, and that is very normal. Cecilia speaks of intimacy like it is of little significance, but when one has not experienced it before, itisgreatly significant. When Harry and I were intimate for the first time, I all but hid from him out of shame. But he helped me overcome that. He helped me realize there was no shame in physical love and?—”
“But mine is not physical love,” Penelope whispered. “Mine is scandalously hidden away in a library, gasping for touches that I do not know if I will experience again, and yet I crave them more than anything.”
“Love does not have to be present to chase what the body wants,” Daphne told her gently, even though her face still showed a flicker of concern. “Mine was, and perhaps yours… could be. Your position is delicate, Penelope, so it is all right to be scared and nervous and wanting. But before you go further, you must know His Grace’s intentions. If you are caught, you will both be ruined.”
“Daph, is it bad that I enjoyed how scandalous it was? I enjoyed that we were not tucked away in a bedroom, that the risky nature of it only made all the more thrilling.”
“Now you are speaking like Cecilia,” Daphne snorted. “But between you and I, I know Mary has experimented in places that were not very private either. I swore to her that I would not say where, but just know that you are not alone.”
“Thank you,” Penelope sighed.
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Daphne raised her eyebrows. “On the topic of intimacy, surely you wish to spare a few details.”
“Daphne Galpin!” Penelope teased. “How scandalous of you to wish for details while you warn me about the Duke.”
