Page 95 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
A pang of sadness shot through her unexpectedly.
For a moment, she blinked, and another little girl ran alongside the girls. Her hair was long, dark, and wavy, and her eyes were bright blue, and she never would know how harsh a colder upbringing could be.
As quickly as the image came, Penelope blinked it away at Daphne’s gentle prodding. “Pen? Did you hear me?”
“She was too busy thinking about her next meeting,” Mary teased.
“I asked if you were being safe with His Grace,” Daphne said softly. “When it comes to your reputation, yes, but also… physically. Is he taking measures to be safe with you?”
Penelope fought back a shiver when she thought of just how passionate some of those measures had been, the creativity he had shown her for his release.
Biting her lip, she nodded. “I am being safe.”
“Good,” Mary breathed. “After all, you do not wish to have permanency from a temporary arrangement.”
Her comment was not supposed to be harsh, but Penelope flinched either way. She thought of Edmund proclaiming what a terrible husband he would make. It was as if everything around her was determined to remind her that it was indeed only temporary.
So why did she picture a little girl with his hair and her eyes?
Why did she imagine that their conversation the night of his nightmare could have gone differently?
That he would have taken her more affectionately into his arms, opened up the whole night, and kept her there, asked her to come into his world and his business and be trusted within his heart. That he would have held her until the sun rose, uncaring about being caught because he would have professed his?—
His what?
His intentions to publicly court her?
The notion was ridiculous, and she silently ridiculed herself for even thinking of it.
“You are right,” she sighed, smiling tightly at Mary, more of a mask to hide her thoughts than displeasure at her friend for accurately describing their situation. “It is only temporary.”
“Forgive my observation, but you do not seem confident about that. You look… rather upset.” Daphne, ever observant, gave her a searching look.
Penelope turned her face away. “I am perfectly fine,” she answered. “Edmund and I are well, and the situation is what we have agreed it to be, and that is all there is to it.”
She walked on as if she might escape their questions and probing. But she couldn’t stare the slow realization in the face: that she was starting to want more from Edmund. The love she had once stopped wanting and dreaming about rose in her heart, and she wondered if itcouldbe a possibility. That she was not a spinster at five-and-twenty.
That Edmund might want more with her. Children to play in the park, and a wedding ceremony that was well-attended.
That he might want her for a very long time, as she realized she wanted him.
* * *
She carried that realization through to the following day as Edmund settled his hand on her waist, coming up beside her as she stood in the window of Julian’s gallery. It was a dark, ornate affair, full of scandalous paintings on the wall, and a grandfather clock that chimed one in the morning.
“You seem distracted,” Edmund noted, his mouth already pressing to the line of her neck, brushing her hair aside.
Her eyes fluttered shut, automatically leaning back into his touch. He pressed soft kisses along her skin that contrasted with the sharper terms of their arrangement.
“It has been a long day,” she told him. “A long couple of days, in fact.”
He hummed against her shoulder. “Tell me about it after you pick a position from one of these paintings. My week has been rather hectic, and I wish to delight in you.”
Penelope smiled weakly but turned to face him, halting his exploration. “How about we simply talk? Just talk.”
“We do just talk.”
Edmund looked confused, and it was that confusion that almost made her give in. He cut a dark, handsome figure tonight, dressed in his usual dark attire with a cravat the color of the dress he had bought her that had started their whole arrangement.
