Page 88 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Since they had coupled on Julian’s chaise in the hallway, he had met with her twice more, and each time he had kissed her through every declaration that they would not do it again, and she had done the same.
They really couldn’t continue it. She had her brother to worry about, and Edmund himself needed to worry about the Marquess’s reaction if he found out. Not to mention he was sidelining his investigation to chase his physical needs.
Tomorrow night, he would attend the dinner hosted by Lord Frederick, one of the ambitious sons of the Earl and Countess of Dalebury. In truth, the young lord wastooambitious, and Edmund did not intend to back whatever he was planning with the Marquess of Langwaite, but he had been invited, and he hoped that being around other nobles would help him get his focus back to where he needed it to be.
A night with like-minded gentlemen, reminded of his duty to his old acquaintance, with no distractions around. Yes, that was exactly what he needed.
* * *
Edmund’s stomach dropped as he entered the drawing room in Dalebury House and laid eyes on Penelope. In the corner, Finley lounged in a deep armchair, holding a tumbler of brandy as he spoke with another man Edmund recognized.
Lucien Fitzgerald, the Duke of Stormhold, stood with his wife, Edwina Fitzgerald, the lady who had become his Duchess during Edmund’s time in captivity, according to Benjamin. His gossipmonger of a cousin was notably absent from the room, and Edmund realized he had little choice other than to approach the two men he knew.
Unfortunately, that meant approaching the very distraction he had intended to avoid.
“Good evening,” he spoke up, smiling at the Duke, Duchess, and Marquess. His eyes flicked overPenelope.
“Blackstone! We thought you were not coming after all,” Finley greeted, standing up. “You must remember the Duke of Stormhold. This is his Duchess.”
Edmund had a hard time tearing his gaze away from Penelope, who was stuffed in another stifling dress. He thought back to his promise to her after they had tangled between silken sheets.
I will buy you a thousand dresses if it will get you to believe me.
She was not meant to be there—or at least Edmund had assumed she wouldn’t be. But as he looked around, he noticed that several of the lords in attendance had brought their wives. It was strange that Finley had chosen to bring Penelope, but Edmund kept his mouth shut about it.
He nodded to Lucien and Edwina, noting how the Duchess stood proudly at her husband’s side, her chin lifted. She appeared regal, even though her smile was soft.
“Duke. Duchess.”
“Blackstone,” Lucien greeted, shaking his hand. “I have heard much about you.”
Edmund nodded politely. “I apologize for not being more involved in your dukedom or congratulating you on your marriage. I have been…” He hesitated, looking at Penelope for a moment. “I have been away for some time and only recently returned to London.”
“Do not worry about such matters,” Lucien said, waving his hand dismissively. “We are here now, and I believe that it is going to be a truly prosperous night. Although, if the Marquess of Langwaite spends one more second speaking of business before we actually begin a group discussion, I might just have to leave.”
He laughed, and Edmund nodded his acknowledgment of the joke.
“Lucien does not like repeating himself,” the Duchess of Stormhold whispered as if it were a secret.
“You both sound very similar.”
Edmund stiffened at Penelope’s voice. Heavens, the last time he had heard it was in the throes of pleasure. He ached to touch her even now. His eyes met hers, and he felt that wave of desire pulse through him. Her face reflected the same, but he could only hope that it wasn’t as noticeable as he felt it was.
“Are they now?” It was Edwina who spoke again, looking between Penelope and the two Dukes curiously, as if…
As if she could sense Penelope’s longing.
“Interesting,” she mused, smiling. “Lady Penelope, you have yet to introduce me to your friends. Come, walk with me.”
Finley’s eyes narrowed, but he would never dare argue with a duchess.
Edmund watched Penelope slip away with Edwina, the two of them already bent in their feminine whispers and ways he would never understand.
He turned back to the other gentlemen as more of them gathered. “Shall we start our meeting, then?”
Throughout the blasted thing, Edmund could not focus. In the one place he had planned to put himself back on track—to focus on his dukedom, his estates, and making advantageous connections—he found his attention straying to the doors of the drawing room, beyond which the ladies gathered while the men spoke of business. And then, throughout dinner, he could not look away from her.
Her attention scorched him, and he regretted every second of declaring it was their last time. How could he ever walk away from her? He would handle the danger. He would fight anybody if it came to that. He would bloody his hands, add more scars to his already full canvas, and argue with a thousand men so that he could have her beneath him again.
