Page 83 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Available, and very much warned against doing anything in his chambers,”Edmund had joked as he’d pulled Penelope against him in the hallway, his teeth nipping the back of her neck. His hand was already wandering beneath her skirt even as they’d said their goodbyes.“Although the thought of doing something so forbidden is quite alluring.”
He had listed several places Julian had specifically asked them to stay away from—the dining table in the larger dining hall, the chaise in the hallway, and his bedroom—and as he told Penelope each location and each filthy thing he wished to do to her, he brought her to another swift climax right there against the wall.
“I think next time will be rather interesting,”he had told her as they left the escort’s house, each in their separate carriages so they were not connected to one another.
Ever since, Penelope had fantasized endlessly, and she felt a perpetual emptiness now that she had known the feel of Edmund inside her.
“Evening, Pen.” Finley’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, his eyebrow raised in suspicion as she looked at the dinner served before her.
It was not pie, not like the one Edmund had prepared for her. It was a rich joint of meat, and she suddenly did not feel very hungry at all. Or perhaps shewasbut not for food.
For a gray-eyed, dark-haired man who made her feel things she never thought were possible.
“You seem rather chipper,” Finley noted. “Have I missed something?”
Oh, you have missed everything, and I will keep it that way.
“Nothing at all.” She smiled as she lay her napkin over her lap. “I simply had a lovely afternoon with Daphne. We went to the booksh?—”
“Heavens, not more books,” Finley muttered. “Honestly, Pen, the library cannot host more of your silly fiction novels.”
“They are not silly,” she protested. “And not all of them are fiction either. I am an educated lady.”
Her brother’s eyes flitted over her. “That you are, yes.”
She tensed, then returned to looking at the food. “Regardless, I have had a pleasant week.”
But as pleasant as her visit with Edmund had been—the whole reality of losing her maidenhood to him, and processing such a thing over the last few days—she knew that the tension that came with keeping this from her brother would eat her alive. She could not relax. She could barely speak to him without a layer of guilt making her fumble.
Her friends had been right—shehadneeded to claim something for herself. But the guilt that came with it was so great. There was another aspect of worrying over what would happen to Edmund if Finley ever found out.
Her thoughts churned throughout dinner, until, by the end of it, she wondered if she was only putting Edmund in more danger. Whether he wanted to see her or not, it was she who came with the brother who was easily aggravated.
But we are only having fun.Fun that I have only dreamed about, heard Cecilia’s stories of, and never thought I would experience.
She could not give it up, but she could not let it continue for very long either.
Halfway through convincing herself that she would tell Edmund that the next time would be the last time, that they had to be safe and honest, not risking Finley’s wrath, Finley startled her with more conversation.
“Penelope, we have a dinner engagement with Lord Frederick in three days. He has invited us to his townhouse for a gathering.” His lip curled. “I do believe your friends will be there, for Lord Frederick has it in his head that the Marquess of Wetherby and his acquaintances will also invest in our business venture. Together, we are forging great connections, and I believe this is what I need to finally make the Langwaite name shine. Of course, not to mention a most notable helping hand in all of this.”
“Who is that?”
“The Duke of Blackstone.”
Penelope fought very hard not to choke on her sip of wine, to keep her hand from trembling at the mere mention of Edmund, to place her glass down on the table as though he did not ruffle her so deeply.
“I see. Very notable, indeed.”
“He will be in attendance at the dinner, but I do believe his sister and cousin will not. I do not like that cousin of his. He is too… buoyant.” He sneered the word. “He does not always compose himself as a gentleman should.”
“I cannot say I have properly met him.”
“I will make the necessary introductions, but do not think that he is interested, Pen. Do not worry about that. He is the last man I would ever approve of.”
She dared to smile. “Will you ever approve of any man for me, Brother, or might I start packing my bags for the countryside?”
Finley did not properly answer her. He only wiped his mouth and chuckled as he left the table, as if her question was utterly inane.
