Page 9 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Her hands shook, and she clenched them in the folds of her cloak as she crossed the street to approach the back door of Mr. Gray’s house.
She lifted her hand to knock on the door, allowing herself one more moment of hesitation.
“This is no place for someone like you, My Lady.”
ChapterThree
“Well, have you nothing to say?” the same voice asked from behind her.
Horror swept through her in a dizzying wave as she turned around, her eyes wide.
There, right on the edge of the pavement, was a stranger who stood tall and imposing, his head tilted slightly as if he was assessing her.
His face was visible in the light from Mr. Gray’s house, and she could not help but notice his strong, handsome features.
Eyes of cold, gray steel watched her, and his hair, only slightly disheveled, was so dark she could not tell if it was black or a deep brown. He was bearded, the hair well-groomed, and she could not place his age for a moment, but his presence exuded intimidation.
She took a step back, only to be cornered against the door.
“I am no lady, Sir,” she lied. “I am a maid of Mr. Gray’s. I was—I was sent on an errand.”
If she had not already been so nervous, she might have spoken more confidently. But she was unmoored, stuck, and trapped.
Her first thoughts were that Finley had found out and sent a friend to spy on her, to trip her into her own excuses and find out why she was on the doorstep of a notorious male escort.
“Gray has sent you on an errand when it is nearing midnight? It must be a rather important errand.”
“Indeed, My Lord,” she said.
At the quirk of his mouth, she wondered if she had used the wrong title.
That all-seeing gaze swept over her body, as if he could make out her fine dress beneath her cloak.
“I see,” he answered. “Although, it is rather odd for a maid to arrive in a nondescript carriage.”
Think, Penelope.
“Yes, well, Mr. Gray treats his staff very well. Most exceptionally, in fact.”
“Clearly.” He only smiled, amused, as if he did not believe a word out of her mouth, but her pride would not let her give up her ploy.
She would not be caught out. She couldn’t.
“And your role in his household would be… what, exactly?” he pressed.
She hesitated, caught off-guard, trying to think of the staff in Langwaite Manor whom her brother all but pretended did not exist.
“I… manage certain affairs.”
He nodded slowly. “Ah. Certain affairs, yes, I see.” She knew he did not believe her. “And these certain affairs include you hurrying to the back entrance like a thief in the dead of night?”
Quickly, she tried to think harder. “I am no thief! I—Of course, I did not wish to disturb the master. This will be the best way to enter quietly and efficiently.”
To her horror, the stranger did not nod and leave, nor did he enter the house the proper way, from the other side. No. He stepped closer to her, his broad chest coming close to hers. So close that she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.
“And I suppose Mr. Gray does not mind his staff meeting the eyes of nobility so boldly?” He cocked his head, his lips pressed together in thought. “And you must be so finely treated, for you do not look like a maid at all. This dress, which is not well hidden by your cloak, these silk gloves, and the perfume you wear… Not at all how a maid often presents herself. One might not be convinced you are a maid at all.”
“I am telling the truth,” Penelope insisted, clenching her fingers into fists at her sides, trying to release some of her nerves.
