Читать онлайн книгу «The Midnight Rake» автора Anabelle Bryant

The Midnight Rake
Anabelle Bryant
A gentleman by day…Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst is one of the country’s most eligible bachelors…which - to the heartbreak of each season’s new debutantes - is the way he intends to keep it. Because the broodingly handsome Viscount has vowed to keep emotions out of the bedchamber. And he is a man who always stays true to his word.So when Penelope Rosebery arrives at his home, impoverished and in need of help, Phin is every inch the gentleman. But, beneath the surface, Penelope stirs a protective and passionate instinct within him. With her untamed beauty and lack of social ties, she’s something of a wildflower – delicate, spontaneous, and rare. And before long, Phineas finds himself tempted to abandon his rulebook…and leave etiquette behind until daybreak.Praise for Anabelle BryantPraise for Anabelle Bryant:'Anabelle Bryant’s books just keep getting better! Duke of Darkness is the epitome of what a romance novel should be – sexy, steamy and heart wrenching.' -Elder Park Book Reviews' storytelling rivals any established author in the market' 5* for 'To Love a Wicked Scoundrel' from historicalromancelover.blogspot.co.uk'This book was sweet, enjoyable, and absolutely fantastic. Romance lovers, this is a must read book.' - 5* from Farah (Goodreads) for 'To Love a Wicked Scoundrel'



A gentleman by day…
Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst is one of the country’s most eligible bachelors…which - to the heartbreak of each season’s new debutantes - is the way he intends to keep it. Because the broodingly handsome Viscount has vowed to keep emotions out of the bedchamber. And he is a man who always stays true to his word.
So when Penelope Rosebery arrives at his home, impoverished and in need of help, Phin is every inch the gentleman. But, beneath the surface, Penelope stirs a protective and passionate instinct within him. With her untamed beauty and lack of social ties, she’s something of a wildflower – delicate, spontaneous, and rare. And before long, Phineas finds himself tempted to abandon his rulebook…and leave etiquette behind until daybreak.
Also by Anabelle Bryant (#ulink_0b816940-685f-57a2-8637-ff4a88629055)
To Love a Wicked Scoundrel
Duke of Darkness
The Midnight Rake
Anabelle Bryant

www.CarinaUK.com (http://www.CarinaUK.com)
Contents
Cover (#u2a0cb8fd-f7ed-51d9-ae58-75242103e174)
Blurb (#uf9036650-fa14-5c9d-b9af-a4aba2a83bea)
Book List (#ulink_0e66193d-12b1-5841-832c-7d7f30a58bf1)
Title Page (#u44780cfe-0ed1-5eb6-b71e-d5cf98fbadb9)
Author Bio (#u54717956-4c4a-5865-b2ce-7b465f05f7ee)
Dedication (#uda82d20e-8319-5658-ba89-ba784b2c8222)
Chapter One (#ulink_005cea8d-6056-5a3c-ba9f-77b654587295)
Chapter Two (#ulink_a7dd65c8-45cd-5fdd-a7a2-66b19b1f1894)
Chapter Three (#ulink_0ca1b1bf-3eb7-5305-80db-31c5811bdaac)
Chapter Four (#ulink_6d4d3673-f8fd-5c4e-9d2b-3fefe4adc73c)
Chapter Five (#ulink_121c87f6-ebe7-57bf-ba01-0fa3c7b13954)
Chapter Six (#ulink_45d8a7e9-8ae7-5968-bf36-f5b64ce627ad)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ANABELLE BRYANT
began reading at the age of three and never stopped. Her passion for reading soon turned into a passion for writing and an author was born. Happy to grab her suitcase if it ensures a new adventure, Anabelle finds endless inspiration in travel; especially imaginary jaunts into romantic Regency England, a far cry from her home in New Jersey. Instead, her clever characters live out her daydreams because really, who wouldn’t want to dance with a handsome duke or kiss a wicked earl?
Though teaching keeps her grounded, photography, running and writing counterbalance her wanderlust. Often found with her nose in a book, Anabelle has earned her Master’s Degree and is pursuing her Doctorate Degree in Education. She proudly owns her addiction to French fries and stationery supplies, as well as her frightening ineptitude with technology.
A firm believer in romance, Anabelle knows sometimes life doesn’t provide a happily ever after, but her novels always do.
She enjoys talking with her fans. Visit her website at AnabelleBryant.com (http://AnabelleBryant.com).
Writing a novel can be much like raising a child. You put your heart and soul into your efforts. You do your very best. You nurture and worry over every choice and then pray in the end you’ve done enough. Thank you, Mom and Dad for a loving, happy childhood.
Chapter One (#ulink_85008810-5979-5288-bf2f-da9cec03f681)
“Charles! Why are we stopping?” Victoria Betcham, Countess of Fenhurst, pushed aside the crimson velvet curtain obstructing her view of the open road and poked her head through the square carriage window. Her eyes scanned the empty roadway. They’d been traveling at an excellent pace toward London. The unexpected slowing was not due to traffic. “Charles?”
The coachman’s voice rang over the noise of the slowing team as the carriage rolled to an abrupt stop. “A mail coach is blocking the road, my lady. There is no way for us to pass.”
“Mon dieu! This is inconvenient. Is anyone hurt? Can you locate the driver?” She angled her head in an attempt to see past the floorboard iron, but had no success. Reluctant to leave the safe confines of her carriage, Victoria trusted her coachman to resolve the issue with intelligence. She did not suffer fools well and Charles had been in her employ for over twenty years.
A country road far outside of London was nowhere to be stranded and a variety of perils flittered through her mind until the vision of a threatening highwayman determined to snare a respected aristocrat caused her to bundle her pelisse and reticule closer. A crack of thunder emphasized her concern. Would she have to contend with poor weather as well? The roads would become impassable, leaving her abandoned and at risk for danger. Vulnerability was not a desirable traveling companion. She anxiously awaited Charles’ return.
“It appears the driver needs assistance in pushing the conveyance to the side. Broken rear axle, as I can see.” Charles climbed from the front boot and addressed her through the window. “We will resume shortly, although I do not know how the two young ladies will manage.”
The coachman’s latter comment was spoken as an afterthought, but it pricked Victoria’s attention more than his announcement they’d soon continue their journey.
“Ladies? Where?” Quelle horreur! Genteel ladies did not travel by mail coach. If Charles’ assumption proved true, the two females were in a definite bind. Never mind the series of perils she’d catalogued only moments before. “Let me see them. Move aside, please.” She motioned at the door with a sharp wave of her hand.
Once the steps were extended, she exited the carriage far enough to assess the two petite travelers alongside the roadway. Their clothing portrayed them as quality and the sorrowful expression on the face of the taller miss tugged at Victoria’s heart.
“Bring them to me. Perhaps I can help. If the ladies mean to travel to London, there is room to share.”
Victoria watched the interaction with interest as her coachman complied with alacrity. The ladies approached and she noted their delicate features, most especially the innate poise of the older girl despite the weariness that clouded her eyes and descended to her dusty hems.
“My lady, may I present Miss Penelope Rosebery and her sister, Miss Aubry.” Charles nodded his head to initiate introductions. “Victoria Betcham, Countess of Fenhurst.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, although the circumstances are horrid.” She cast a disapproving glance to the disabled mail coach. “How fortunate I happened along. If you are bound for London, you’re welcome to accompany me.”
With mild amusement, Victoria watched Aubry’s eyes flare as she perused the luxurious carriage. Penelope, the older of the two and not a day past twenty-four if her assumption stood correct, looked as though she might fall asleep with the next breath.
“Thank you for your kindness. I am afraid we have little choice.” Penelope’s pensive expression softened as she accepted the offer. “We do appreciate your hospitality.”
“But of course. Conversation will be a welcome diversion during the long ride.”
Minutes later the carriage rolled on with all passengers settled inside. Victoria smiled with satisfaction despite the situation proved curious. Penelope remained silent, nestled beside her sister. Aubry appeared of the opposite nature, her bright eyes anxious for conversation with no shadow of the hesitation evident in her sister’s guarded demeanor. “I have never ridden in a vehicle so fine.” Aubry’s gaze flitted about the interior as if wishing to absorb every detail. “It’s very beautiful.”
The carriage swayed and Victoria noticed Penelope’s eyes slide closed before the girl forced them open, each attempt a little slower than the previous. In many ways the young miss evoked images of her daughter, Julia, currently living away from home.
“My dear, there is no need to clutter the air with conversation when fatigue plagues you.” She reached across the coach and offered Penelope’s knee a gentle pat. Who knew how long the ladies suffered in that cramped mail coach? With a full day of travel ahead, it made sense for the girl to take a nap.
“Please do not think me rude. I haven’t slept well in weeks, and now within the comfort of your wonderful carriage, sleep begs me forward no matter how I resist.”
“Not at all. You must take advantage of the time. It will be hours before we reach London.”
Aubry shifted on the bench, her attention drawn toward her sister. “Penny, you should rest.”
Victoria noticed the silent communication between the girls, as if pages of words were intimated with a flick of their eyelashes.
“I suppose a short nap would serve me well.” Penelope’s voice faded toward the end, a sigh of surrender overriding her admittance.
“Excellent.” Victoria’s tone echoed her approval. “Aubry and I will share pleasant conversation while you take respite. It will provide us a chance to become better acquainted.”
“Oh.” Penelope shot her shoulders straight and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “I can stay awake.” She glanced in Aubry’s direction, her eyes forced wide.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear.” Victoria leaned forward and squeezed Penelope’s hand. “I insist.”
“As do I.” Aubry nodded her head confirming the sentiment.
As if fighting prevarication, time stretched before Penelope finally adjusted her position and reclined her head against the velvet bolster. They traveled only a quarter of a mile before she fell into a sound sleep and Aubry initiated conversation in a hushed tone.
“Thank you so much, Lady Fenhurst. My sister has been extremely worried these last weeks. I’m afraid the mail coach incident proved the final affront to her endurance.”
“I am happy to lend my assistance. If only I could do more.” Victoria eyed her reticule resting on the seat beside her, but abandoned her immediate thought. “Pardon my interference, but traveling by mail coach is not a prudent decision. Where will you stay when you reach London? Are you visiting family?” She continued, leaving no chance for a response. “One must be on guard against danger, most especially in the city. My daughter is of a similar age and has the same impetuous nature I suspect the two of you possess.”
For the slightest moment Victoria allowed a frown to turn her lips before she regained her cheerful demeanor. She worried for Julia and her broken heart, but nothing could be done about the matter. At least, not at the present.
“Oh, our decision to travel has nothing to do with adventure and we have no plans to see family.” Aubry glanced to her sister, in a sound sleep beside her. “Once we reach London, we need to visit a jeweler.” With care, she reached across the seat, grasped her sister’s reticule, and withdrew a gold pocket watch. She cradled it in her palm, gathering the long linked chain and closing her fingers tight.
Victoria watched Aubry’s actions with increased interest. The manner in which the girl handled the timepiece indicated it was precious indeed. Coupled with her forlorn expression and watery eyes, she surmised the watch held great sentimental value.
“What are you meaning to do?” The question needed to be asked regardless of its personal nature.
“Penelope hopes to sell my father’s watch so we have payment for a room in a lodging house.”
“A lodging house?” Victoria gasped at the words. “That idea will never do. Such unrefined housing would place you in the path of disreputable gentlemen and certain danger, most especially as you travel unchaperoned. My conscience could never survive were I to allow you to pursue this dreadful plan.” She shook her head to erase the thought, her eyes coming to rest on the glint of gold clenched in Aubry’s hand. “You cannot sell your father’s watch. I am sure it is a cherished keepsake.”
“He passed only eight months ago.” Aubry’s voice trembled as she whispered the words. Then with silent reserve, she replaced the watch inside her sister’s purse and cinched the drawstrings with more force than necessary. The action seemed to compose her unsettled emotions. When again she spoke, her voice sounded even. “I am afraid we have no other choice. We have a problem to solve. We need to locate someone.”
“My dear, you must reveal the person’s name so I may help you. I am traveling to the family townhouse where my son is in residence. We can enlist his aid in resolving your quandary. I’m only privy to the discussions traded in the retiring room, but young men have their fingers on the pulse of the city. My son is most dutiful. I am certain he will assist you, as will I.” She laughed at the girl’s brightened expression, her face beaming with anxious questions.
“Truly?” Aubry’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “If somehow you could assist Penelope in gaining entry to social engagements, I’m sure our problem will be solved. Once she finds—” She stalled midsentence and took a shortened breath before restarting. “Once Penelope is able to mix with society, things will be much better.”
Victoria eyed the girl with speculative curiosity. “Of course, I insist you both stay with me while we iron out this little dilemma. I am happy for the company. My daughter, Julia, is currently away from home and I miss her dearly. Having the two of you in house will be splendid companionship.” She leaned forward and clasped Aubry’s hand in an affectionate gesture.
“That sounds wonderful, but I am not sure my sister…” Aubry slid her eyes toward Penelope in confirmation she remained asleep. “Perhaps we should wait until Penny wakes up.”
No longer speaking in a whisper, Victoria wondered if the girl attempted to rouse her sister with the suggestion. Aubry’s precocious nature proved both charming and endearing. Victoria smiled with pleasure, determined to help the ladies.
“Not to worry about your sister. I imagine she would feel relieved to have this problem solved.” Victoria paused, although she had no intention of allowing Aubry to refuse. When no objection was voiced, she could not be more pleased. “So it’s all decided. Imagine how surprised your sister will be when she awakes to discover one of her concerns settled. Now let me tell you about my son, Phineas. He is a handsome, dashing gentleman who knows all the very best people in London.”
Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst, stood on the grassy banks of the Tyburn tributary hoping to catch a fish or two before completing the journey to his London townhouse. The sport was intended to relax him, but today it caused the opposite effect as Phin’s thoughts lingered on his sister Julia, now residing in Brighton after a decision to take a brief holiday. He hoped his mother’s suggestion of a change of scenery provided the cure for Julia’s heartache. Having returned from depositing Julia safely with their aunt and uncle, he impulsively chose to spend the late morning angling rather than travel the final distance home.
The dank murkiness of the Tyburn presented a pale comparison to the crystal blue waters of Brighton. Still for all its pretty scenery, he doubted the city’s charm would mend his sister’s broken heart. And while he knew Lord Winton well enough and certainly never heard a disreputable word attached to his title, there was absolutely no explaining the man’s sudden decision to sever ties with Julia. The two had all but announced their betrothal. Winton’s sudden change in sentiment seemed odd; the display of contrary emotion offering Phineas another reason to remain unencumbered and thoroughly entrenched in bachelorhood.
His sister deserved some type of explanation to soothe her disappointment over Winton’s illogical dismissal. The gentleman’s abrupt drop from society could only be labeled dishonorable. Julia pleaded with him to discover what caused Winton’s fickle change of heart and while Phin endeavored to keep free of personal entanglements, he would be hard pressed to watch his sister suffer unnecessarily. With reluctance, he’d agreed to pursue the man on his sister’s behalf in hope of extracting an accounting for his recent behavior.
Phineas adjusted the drum of the reel and secured the wooden lace bobbin, casting as far into the waters as possible, the skittering noise of his line advancing as it arched through the sky a familiar sound. He rubbed the lucky penny in his trouser pocket, but luck was not his.
After an hour of similar failure, Phin conceded. He’d had no success and snapped his fishing rod when it caught on an unexpected quagmire. In a darker mood than earlier, he sunk into the leather squabs of his carriage and signaled to the driver with a sharp rap to the ceiling. He wished for nothing more than the sweet solitude he’d find upon arriving home. His mother remained at their country estate, Betcham Manor. His father had embarked on a grand tour months before and would continue his travels indefinitely. The allure of absolute quiet, a late supper and the respite to be found in his large bed, tempted with idyllic suggestion. He eased back against the cushions and relaxed, anticipating the peacefulness awaiting him at home.
Restlessness became his enemy and at last he arrived. Too anxious for the footman’s arrival, Phin’s boots hit the pavement before the carriage stopped in the drive. He bounded up the stone steps leading to the main entrance and barely reached the brass knob before the door flew wide, his butler present on the other side. The servant’s perturbed expression gave Phineas immediate pause.
“What is it, Jenkins?” The man’s usual conviviality appeared absent.
“Your mother, my lord.”
Phineas pushed into the marble-laid foyer, his eyes sweeping from wall to wall in uncertainty. “Is everything alright?” His voice was laced with concern. “Has a message arrived? Is there news of which I need to be made aware?”
The butler cleared his throat and leaned forward a fraction. “Your mother is here. She is currently upstairs. The household did not expect Her Grace’s arrival and I am afraid the sudden visit has upended the staff.”
“Jenkins, you alarmed me. Have a care.” Phineas relaxed, shrugging out of his waistcoat to hand to the servant. Then brushing a palm down his face, he exhaled fully. “Surely my mother’s unexpected arrival should not discomfort the staff. The house has been kept aright and I’ve only been gone a fortnight. What seems to be the trouble?”
“She has arrived with houseguests, my lord. And…” Jenkins swallowed with palpable hesitation.
“Out with it.” Phin’s patience evaporated along with his envisioned tranquility. He wanted nothing more than the solitude of his bedchamber, and now the option had been taken from him. He’d be forced to show for dinner with his mother in house. She would desire a full accounting of his trip to Brighton. He could only conclude her sudden decision to journey into London had been prompted by her need for company while Julia remained on holiday.
But wait, didn’t Jenkins mention she’d arrived with companions? Phin released a disappointed groan. The only thing making a long dinner worse was forcing a mood of congeniality when all he desired was a good night’s rest.
A high pitched squawk from above stairs interrupted his dismal conclusions.
“No.” Phineas’ eyes flared with the realization. “Jenkins?”
“Yes, my lord,” The butler shook his head in forbiddance, confirming his master’s assumption. “Her Grace brought the parrot.”
Phin didn’t trust a reply. His mother’s pet parrot was a veritable nuisance. Not only did the bird’s incessant screeching guarantee all household decorum would be lost, but the pest had taken an unnatural dislike to him. The feelings were mutual. One look at the red macaw guaranteed the onset of a severe megrim.
He placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder in reassurance, unable to suppress the slight smile curling the edge of his mouth at the gravity in which Jenkins relayed the news. “It won’t be so terrible, I promise you.” He spoke the placating words in hope of setting the man at ease then paused as two maids rushed past, piles of freshly folded linen in their arms. His eyes followed them as they hurried up the far staircase. “Our home will not be turned topsy-turvy so easily.”
When the older servant made no reply, Phin repeated his vow. “You will see. I will not allow it.”
Determined to discover what his mother was about, he set a brisk pace across the hall, his eyes noting every detail of his home remained in order. Velvet curtains were drawn allowing daylight in, the tiles gleamed with fresh polish, and not a speck of dust could be found on the disciplined carvings of the satinwood furnishings. He rounded the corner of the corridor nearest the drawing room, only to pull up abruptly, unable to stop as he collided with a stranger who exited the same room. Their bodies bumped together with enough force to momentarily stun him. As he retreated, his chin brushed the hair swept across the lady’s forehead, his entire body confused by the unexpected collision and the instantaneous reaction of each of his senses.
She smelled like vanilla, sweet and tempting, and his stomach may have growled at the observation. One thing remained certain, the accidental caress against her person more than convinced him this stranger in his house felt warm and wonderfully soft in all the right places. He recovered manners with a shake of his head, and moved aside with reluctance.
Sunlight streamed through the drawing room windows and washed over the lady motionless in the doorway. By damn, her eyes were unusual, flecks of gold dancing in startling green. With effort he forced out a coherent string of words.
“Pardon me.” His gaze followed hers as it dipped to the floor where a pair of ivory gloves lay on the cerulean carpet. “If I may?”
His voice held a note of confusion he could not explain. Bending at the waist, part purposeful bow, he lifted the gloves with care. The silk appeared worn, and he noted the top glove was missing two of its four pearl buttons.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Her small hand snatched the gloves from his grasp before he could consider them further, her fingertips sweeping against his palm in a smooth, silky caress, so delicate he wondered if he’d imagined it. But no, the sudden shot of awareness that jarred his heartbeat proved it occurred.
“I am Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst. This is my home. And you are…?”
A flash of surprise flickered in her deep green eyes and a smile made a fleeting appearance before the lady caught her bottom lip in indecision. Again, a peculiar feeling rushed through him. Perhaps the long carriage ride and the heat of the day had affected his stomach after all.
“My name is Penelope Rosebery. I’m a guest of the Countess.”
Her voice, melodic and calming, banished all thoughts of the intrusive parrot, inviting him to consider her fine features. Her bonnet fell backwards, the yellow ribbon circling her neck as if she’d just made entrance to the house. The delicate hat lay underneath a single long braid, the color of fresh baked scones. Her eyes, a mossy shade he’d never seen previously, sparkled, crystalline and intriguing; and her nose, pert and quick turned, was spattered with a handful of freckles likely gained by not wearing the bonnet. Were her cheeks flushed from their near collision or the circumstances of the situation? He could not know. All in all she presented a fetching picture; an utterly refreshing surprise during an inordinately difficult day.
Despite his curious silence, Miss Rosebery flashed a brilliant smile and Phin returned it in kind, a warm feeling replacing all others, more akin to the streaming light reflected through the windows.
“Please forgive my confusion. It would appear I’m the last one to be made aware of your visit; but then I’ve been out of house on a fishing trip,” he muttered, his mind busy contemplating how her name certainly fit, loveliness and sweetness combined.
“Of course.”
Her gaze fell on him as she replied and an unexpected flicker of emotion inspired his chest. He disliked the disturbance and dismissed it with a deep exhale. They might have remained stalled were they not interrupted by his mother, her enthusiastic exclamation as startling as the parrot’s incessant squawking earlier.
“Phineas! Très bien. At last, you’re home. Your father extended his travels to include Egypt. I daresay I’ve no idea when he’ll return and I’ve been so lonely. I want to hear every detail of your trip to Brighton. Has your sister’s countenance improved? Her heartache keeps me awake at night.”
Phineas grimaced as his mother embraced him; her histrionic outpouring as exaggerated as her tight hold.
“I’m happy to see you as well, Maman. I hope you’re not as terribly desolate as you wish me to believe.” He knew well her tendency to lean on the melodramatic.
With the same vigor the Countess affected in every area of her life, she inclined her head toward Penelope, an affectionate smile sliding into place.
“Have you met our guest? Miss Rosebery will be staying with us here in London.”
Before he could respond, his mother turned to the young lady and continued as if he took no part in the conversation.
“Your sister is settled upstairs. Aubry seemed so tired from the carriage ride, I advised her to take a nap. I’m sure she’ll feel refreshed once she rests a spell. In the meantime I’ve instructed Cook to prepare a picnic. After traveling for hours confined to the stuffy coach I’d like nothing more than a light repast in the garden. Will you join me?”
“Excuse me, Maman.” Phineas steeled his patience and interrupted his mother’s rapid planning. If he did not exert some control over the situation, he’d find his afternoon and evening arranged without a say as was his mother’s tendency.
“Mais oui. Of course you will join us. It would be impolite for you not to welcome our new houseguests. Besides, you must be hungry from your travels. How delightful we all arrived at the same time. We’ll picnic in one hour.”
Her forthright directive brought him up quicker than a wasp sting. It would do little to object as propriety dictated he be present no matter he desired a quiet meal and a night’s rest. At least the outing would present an opportunity to uncover the reason for Miss Rosebery’s visit and her sudden relationship with Maman. He had no desire for complicated company, most especially female guests, yet despite his misgivings, serving as reluctant escort was the gentlemanly thing to do.
He excused himself and retreated down the hall to his chambers. As he climbed the stairs, his fingers worked the knot of his cravat. Perhaps he could get a bit of peace before joining the ladies in the garden. Removing the linen from around his neck, he pushed it into his trouser pocket, his fingers brushing against the coin there. Lucky penny indeed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_fe06d6ff-8b21-59e2-837f-212a3c90e9f9)
Penelope drew the brush to the ends of her hair and satisfied with her effort, replaced it beside the comb on the vanity. She’d released the maid who had shown at the door, deeming it unnecessary to have someone arrange her hair when she’d become adept at the task. Considering the turns her life experienced of late, she marveled at her good fortune. Lady Fenhurst’s actions spoke of an innate kindness and Penelope knew she would never be able to repay her debt of gratitude.
She rose from the vanity and walked to the lace-draped window gracing the lush guestroom where her meager belongings appeared out of place. A vibrant flower garden sprawled below, extending to a white gazebo in the farthest corner of the property. For a city-placed townhouse, this presented a grand lifestyle. How very different than the indigent rented cottage she and her sister had called home since their father’s death left them heartbroken and penniless. Without a doubt, Penelope shouldered blame for every problem chasing at their heels since she had brought about the ruin of her family. What a mess their lives had become, all because she’d foolishly believed herself in love.
A light knock on the door adjoining her bedchamber with her sister’s roused Penelope from her melancholic thoughts. At the sound of Aubry’s call, she gladly bade her to enter.
Aubry, younger by five years, looked almost her twin. Slight feminine women by design, they’d lost weight since falling into their penurious situation. Laying their father to rest and relinquishing their childhood home to bankers, diminished Penelope’s usual enthusiastic approach to eating. It had yet to return. Instead, regret and guilt gnawed at her conscience. Penelope gave her head a purposeful shake.
“Are you rested? Lady Fenhurst said you were taking a nap. If you’d slept when I did in the carriage earlier, you might not have−”
“Solved one of our biggest problems?” Aubry slipped into the room, a tentative expression on her face. “You aren’t angry with me, are you? I know I did an unexpected amount of talking and may have got carried away revealing things we decided to keep private, but ultimately by my sharing a small piece of our plans, I gained this excellent opportunity to pursue our goal. Not to mention, the security of Lady Fenhurst’s protection. You cannot argue with that.”
“Had the Countess not proved so kind and generous, I would be angry. You must remember to be more prudent in the future.” Penelope softened the stern reprimand with a smile. Having had to surrender so much control since her father’s passing, any unexpected change in plans unsettled her. “I’ve rung for tea if you’d like to join me.” She forced a cheerful tone while Aubry settled on a corner of the bed. She watched in mild amusement as her sister stretched with languid enjoyment.
“It is amazing. I will be forever grateful to Lady Fenhurst if by allowing us to accompany her to social events, she enables me to find Simon. Her assistance is more than I ever hoped for. More than I deserve.” She muttered the latter comment under her breath, a lugubrious admittance meant to punish.
“For the one hundredth time, it is not your fault.”
“Oh, you will defend me without end, when I alone am responsible for leading our family into ruin and our father to his death.” Despite Penelope’s immediate objection, Aubry’s voice held such conviction she was terribly tempted to accept her sister’s words. The tea arrived and she set about pouring two cups, forcing herself to change the subject. “I met Viscount Fenhurst below stairs.”
Aubry’s eyes flared as she accepted her tea. “Did you? Is he handsome? Charming? Is he a sharp dresser? Whenever Lady Fenhurst spoke of him during the carriage ride, he sounded more than wonderful. Is it all true?”
Aubry’s persistent questions dispersed Penelope’s thoughts of regret. She stirred her tea with vigor while considering how her sister tendentiously romanticized every situation. “You can get that twinkle out of your eye. And why, good heavens, would you wish to know if he is a sharp dresser?” Her words came out in a rush of sisterly protectiveness. “You are only seventeen years old. Let’s not forget the image of a comely gentleman led me to believe Simon would invest our entire savings, my dowry, and father’s accounts in a successful venture that turned out to be nothing more than a self-interested escapade to line his own pockets.” She sipped her tea as if to wash away the taste of bitter medicine. “How I ever agreed to marry such a blackguard without seeing his true character is an insult to my intelligence.”
Penelope’s voice softened throughout the flow of her discourse, and she lowered her eyes to the bottom of her teacup wishing she could read the few leaves settled there. If only she could turn back time and remedy her decisions.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Aubry’s voice was all concerned whisper. “Neither one of us could have predicted Father would fall into sharp decline.” She paused for a long moment. “And truly it was wrong of Father to aspire to elevate his own status through our upward marriage. That alone explains his forthright enthusiasm in accepting Simon’s offer for your hand.”
Again, the familiar temptation to forgive herself and accept Aubry’s words as truth wriggled to the surface. Her sister was indeed insightful, but then she’d been forced from her gilded world into reality by Penelope’s fateful mistake.
As a baron by tenure with no life interest entailed to his property, their father viewed Simon’s attention as an immediate vault into higher circles and Penny was too naïve and too entranced with the image Simon presented to suspect he played her false. While well-meaning, her father’s aristocratic focus placed happiness as second to title. Penelope didn’t agree with that order, believing true love the most honest emotion.
If his theft hadn’t proved scandalous enough, her duplicitous bridegroom left her standing at the altar in utter embarrassment, the laughing stock of the Cotswolds, not only wronged in love but pushed into a penurious state by the end of her wedding day. Gossip of their ruin spread like wildfire stoking her father’s depression to a crippling state. The realization that she brought about his end, when she only wished to make him proud, created a well of despair buried so deep, Penelope dared not consider it or else she’d never stop crying.
Her contemplative silence fueled her sister’s loyal defense.
“And those heartless bankers, how dare they demand immediate payment? Their relentless attempts to collect funds nipped at the heels of our tragedy. It is no wonder Father was devastated by the social scandal and sudden threat of poverty. His loss of the barony was a crushing blow, his hope for the future, and entire lifesavings gone in one swoop due to the greed of unscrupulous investors.”
Penelope refused to consider how modestly they’d laid their father to rest. They’d eschewed black gowns and worn mourning ribbons as a pitiful compromise, with not one penny to spend. In little over a year, everything had fallen apart quicker than a house of cards because she believed the lies of one dishonest man.
“Only I can shoulder the blame.” Penelope released a disheartened sigh and replaced her cup on the tray. “I accepted every lie Simon Maddock told.”
“Simon swore his love to you. We all thought him true,” Aubry continued with pique. “We had no idea he’d lied about his finances, station, and influence.”
Her sister’s rationalizations did little to soothe Penelope’s regret. On a good day she regarded Simon with angry disdain for what he’d stolen was worse than her heart, he’d destroyed their future. On most other days, she wondered if he’d ever harbored feelings for her and if she’d ever trust affection again or forever be alone with her regrets. Unable to formulate a suitable response to her sister’s argument, the silence in the room became deafening.
“When we find him, we will report him to the authorities. We will see the devil punished for his deceit.”
Penelope remained silent, her sister’s words nothing more than a child’s innocence although at present they had no choice.
“It will be no easy task, but I vow to see it done.” Penelope’s answer hardly disguised her promise full of doubt. How could two gently bred ladies, two impoverished gently bred ladies, somehow locate, ensnare and report the blackguard when few resources and little proof of his deception existed aside from a collection of false promissory notes and a few poorly written love letters? The tightly bound pile of papers caused her distress whenever she glanced in their direction. She only kept them for the far chance they could somehow prove Simon’s malicious intentions.
“One thing is certain. We’ll need some way to connect Simon to the theft otherwise even if we do find him it will all be for naught.” They sat in pensive silence until Penelope placed her hand atop her sister’s and offered a gentle squeeze. “Mother’s cameo. If Simon has it, there will be no denying his crimes. No one could feign ignorance or mistaken possession if the uniquely carved brooch were found.”
Their mother’s heirloom cameo, meant to be a gift upon Penelope’s wedding day, would be the single truth needed to prove Simon’s guilt. What type of man leaves his bride waiting at the altar while he burglarizes her parents’ home?
“He really is a horrible man.” Aubry exhaled a despairing sigh.
Penny nodded agreement. Much to her unease, she harbored some undecipherable sentiment for the man. The wretched inability to extinguish her misplaced emotions ate at her sensibility. Anger, resentment, sadness and affection, intermingled with restless confusion to cloud her judgment and swamp her with self-doubt.
“I’m sure he traveled to London. He spoke of it often. At the time he meant to impress me with his mention of high society, but it would be easier to get lost in a large city. How else could he spend our savings and move about undetected? I dare to think the Rosebery name is remembered as the most laughed about name among the ton.” Penelope shuddered with the admittance, her eyes flitting to the bed’s coverlet where she idly traced the floral embroidery with her fingertip. “Still here we are, left with no other option but to welcome the scandalous embarrassment if we’re discovered.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure.” Her sister’s voice rose on a sharp note. “In London, scandal is common. It’s more likely the Rosebery name can be vaguely recalled but not linked to any particular incident,” Aubry replied with certainty, even though today was her first day in the city.
Penelope speared her sister with narrowed eyes. “I dare say that’s wishful thinking. I wouldn’t be surprised if people referred to any gentleman’s jilt as a ‘Rosebery’ after reading of the incident in the gossip rags.” She managed a wry smile. It wasn’t that she thought herself important, as the mortification of being left at the altar in front of the entire village and the duplicity of Simon’s deceitful actions cured her of that illusion; it was more she could not fathom who wouldn’t discuss such a scandal in an attempt to teach offspring prudence in their affections.
“I disagree. Cousin Elizabeth’s letters haven’t contained a single suspicious question.” Aubry’s expression grew indignant. “And even though we neglected mentioning Father’s death, her voracious curiosity would persist if she were to hear even a hint of scandal attached to the Rosebery name.”
“You make a good point. It would be terribly difficult for Elizabeth to stifle her inquisitive nature notwithstanding it saved our reputation. I know it’s wrong to exclude Elizabeth and her family concerning Father’s death, but what choice do we have?” Penelope hemmed her bottom lip in worry. “Our scandal would become hers. I would never wish to mar her favorable status with my impetuous engagement to Simon, nor the horrid circumstances it wrought.” Penelope lifted the teapot to refill her cup and then changed her mind and replaced it on the tray. Even the smallest decision felt overwhelming.
Lady Elizabeth Bretton portrayed the idyllic picture of aristocratic perfection. Her cousin wrote of making a splash in London, embraced by the most desired social circles. Penelope never minded her status of country cousin until now when the division of weal and woe grew so veracious. She glanced to Aubry, a familiar expression of concern mirrored in her eyes. “And let’s not forget the irascible situation with cousin Carrick.”
“How could I? The very idea causes my stomach to wretch and it is you who would be forced to marry our cousin.” Aubry’s repellent tone equaled Penny’s ill ease.
Elizabeth’s brother Carrick had asked for Penelope’s hand twice before her dramatic collision with ruin. If Carrick knew she currently lived in such a pitiful manner without the supervision of her father, he would swoop in and force the marriage claiming familial responsibility and financial security. Penelope held no doubt her aunt would support the decision, no matter the thought caused Penny’s stomach to roil.
She walked to the window and glanced at the sunbathed gardens below. As of today, she held renewed hope everything would change. She’d arrived in London under the protection of Lady Fenhurst, and the opportunity to find Simon and recover her family funds seemed never more attainable. She would not allow the opportunity to slip away.
“So is Viscount Fenhurst handsome? You never answered me.”
Aubry’s question broke through Penelope’s reflective thoughts. Cured of giddy daydreams, she would be hard pressed to deny her sister the luxury of hopeless romanticism. Viewing the expectant look on Aubry’s face, she recovered her laughter and relented with an easy smile before sitting beside her on the bed.
Viscount Fenhurst was handsome. Very handsome. Their accidental brush convinced her thoroughly of that. My goodness when they collided, it was as if she’d walked into a stone wall. Who would have guessed fishing could develop such a hard muscular frame? If only she had met him a year ago instead of that horrid scoundrel Simon. How different her circumstances might be now.
Chapter three (#ulink_f523f7ac-755e-5a66-9948-4b1a7881e0f5)
Phineas found Maman and her guests within the wooden gazebo, the three a pastoral amongst the last roses of summer. He smiled, knowing his mother would enjoy having the ladies in house. How long would they be visiting? Would Julia have the opportunity to make their acquaintance? He’d overheard his mother arranging appointments from seamstresses to assorted tutors for Aubry’s lessons. Poor Jenkins. Phin stifled a laugh. It would appear both sisters meant to stay an extended period of time. If nothing else, life was proving unpredictable of late. With hope his mother’s intrusive arrival would not disrupt life overmuch.
“I knew we possessed the loveliest gazebo in London.” Phin took the two steps as one and entered. Conversation stopped as attention shifted in his direction. He lingered on the glittering green interest longer than was proper, recalling their earlier collision with full force.
“Phineas, you startled us.”
His mother rushed forward with the admonishment and clasped his hands. Phin flicked his eyes skyward before taking a step back in an attempt to release her hold.
“Penelope and Aubry were keeping me company as we awaited your arrival. The ladies are all settled in.”
He glanced at the two sisters, similar in many ways, and so very different.
“Allow me to introduce Miss Aubry, Penelope’s younger sister.” His mother trilled the words.
Taking Aubry’s offered hand, he stifled another chuckle. “I am pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll be happy here while you visit, even if my mother has planned your life away.” Maman, one of the most determined people he knew, would enjoy spoiling Penelope and Aubry as substitute daughters.
“It is wonderful to meet you. The Countess has shared the lessons she’s planned and I cannot be more excited.” Aubry eyed Victoria Betcham with adoration in her eyes. “She’s arranged for everything from academics to wardrobe. I feel as though my every wish has come true.” She nodded her head, her short wavy hair bobbing in agreement.
Phineas noted Aubry’s exuberance, belatedly catching Penelope’s eye and the curious note of concern hidden there.
“Let us eat. Cook has provided a delicious meal.” Lady Fenhurst took a step toward the garden, then turned back and nodded her head in his direction. “I neglected to mention Chef Pierre has agreed to join us. He should arrive by tomorrow evening.”
Phin’s brows climbed in curiosity as he stepped behind the ladies on the walking path. “However did you manage to convince him? It’s a small miracle whenever you’ve coaxed Pierre to leave Paris, never mind take residence in our London townhouse.”
Maman released an abrupt laugh. “He knows how much we enjoy his artistry in the kitchen. And too, he’s worth the price.”
No need to inquire about the latter portion of that statement. His mother knew what she liked and what she wanted. There would be no changing her mind.
Instead Phineas offered his hand to assist Penelope as she settled upon the flannel, but when he turned to do the same for Aubry, the gesture was lost, his mother having whisked the young girl toward the flowerbeds, their silhouettes disappearing among the yellow-throated roses. He sat down, chagrined, yet all too familiar with his mother’s whims.
“Lady Rosebery.” Phineas offered her a plate. “We have been abruptly dismissed.”
“I think you’re correct.” She returned an amiable smile. “It will be good for my sister to have some order in her life. As much as I regret to admit it, the past months have not been kind.”
Phineas watched as she placed the china plate upon the blanket, adjusting it twice before she was satisfied. She turned her concentration to the silverware next. Could she be nervous? His eyes swept up her slight form, stalling to admire her hair as she gave the place setting her full interest. Sunlight reflected off the caramel waves shadowing her face. Lush lashes swept against her creamy soft skin and captured his attention. Good thing her eyes remained cast toward the silver or she might wonder what he was about, yet it was only subtle interest that held his attention.
His mother best not have offered his assistance in whatever she’d schemed with the ladies. He clenched his teeth to evoke patience and then forced himself to relax. He was preoccupied with Julia’s issue and unwilling to invite further misery by way of female emotion. Still, congeniality would harm no one.
“Please call me Phineas. After nearly knocking you over and now sharing a picnic, I would like us to become friends. We are living in the same house.” An unexpected emotion coursed through him as he said the words aloud and he reached up to tug at the too-tight knot in his cravat.
“I know. This is more than I ever imagined.” Her admission, a beguiling mixture of whisper and awe, disappeared on a pleasant breeze. Then, as if riddled with uncertainty, she continued. “Phineas.”
“Well, now that’s better.” He handed her a linen napkin, although his mind twitched with the question of why he liked the sound of his name in her voice. “Let’s eat, shall we?” The words came out stronger than necessary.
He unwrapped the assortment of foods and strove for casual conversation. “Cook was generous. Clearly my mother is intent on strolling with Aubry this afternoon whereas I thought her famished.” His eyes followed the vacant path.
He’d be damned if Maman was orchestrating another matchmaking episode; having grown wary of any situation involving an unmarried female due to his mother’s unrelenting desire to see him settled and producing offspring. Relationships were messy business.
No wife, happy life.
He silently repeated his mantra and with swift vigilance dismissed the unpleasant thought of Maman’s interference.
“Thank you for this.” Penelope motioned to the plentiful food on the blanket. “It seems a long time since I’ve relaxed and forgotten my troubles.”
The honesty of Penelope’s statement spoke straight to his heart and Phin found he could not drag his eyes from her. Realizing his ridiculous discomfiture, he forced his gaze to his plate. “Well then, please enjoy. I never need a second invitation to eat.”
Penelope glanced at the man settled across the flannel. Dressed in a pale blue linen shirt and brown buck trousers, his casual repose was contagious. How unusual for her to feel at ease in the presence of a gentleman. The few instances when Simon initiated affection, she’d never experienced such calm. But then, she no longer trusted her intuition. A niggling voice reminded of her ineptitude in perceiving Simon’s true nature. Oh, she’d proved every kind of fool to believe herself in love with a pernicious thief.
The stark comparison between Simon and the effortless eloquence across the blanket caused her breath to catch. Phineas genuinely cared for his mother and showed consideration beyond his own wishes. From their shared time in the hallway earlier, a picnic in the garden seemed his least preferred activity for the afternoon, yet he couldn’t be more charming if he tried.
Light reflected in his amber eyes and the shimmer of sunlight that glinted on a stray lock of hair adrift in the breeze gave her heart a little hiccup. She had not described Phineas with accuracy when discussing his appearance with Aubry. Her sister would be setting her to rights. Viscount Fenhurst was a downright pleasure, easily the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
He may have wondered at her silence because he leaned a little closer, his dark brows aloft in question. She sighed as she experienced the full force of his notice.
“Is everything alright?”
His voice evoked feelings of security, a condition that had escaped her life for almost a full year. His chin angled strong and dependable, his nose equally fine, and his golden-hued eyes were fathomless as if one could fall in and get lost in his gaze forever. She forced herself to concentrate on the question and cease admiring his remarkably good looks.
With a firm mental reprimand, Penelope swallowed a threat of emotion. No longer would she allow sentiment to label her a fool. It would be best if she spoke of the weather or some other subject having nothing at all to do with rugged handsomeness and a charming cleft in the chin. She’d been a small child the last time she’d enjoyed a picnic on the lawn. Straightening her shoulders, she formulated a mundane reply. “This is lovely.”
“As are you,” he replied without hesitation. “Now, what is it that brings you to London?”
She smiled at the compliment while Phineas retrieved two glasses from the basket along with a bottle of claret. “I’ve traveled in hope of finding someone. It is a matter of great importance.” She strove to keep her tone cheerful; noting the quaver in her voice likely sabotaged her attempt at congeniality. Reaching across the blanket, she accepted a glass of wine.
“I’ve no doubt my mother will be of assistance.” His voice was rich with sincerity. “She’s a social butterfly and attends almost every invitation. I can see this matter is of great importance. It reminds me of my sister Julia. She too is seeking to solve a problem.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is your sister unwell?” Penelope filled her plate with food. There were all sorts of wonderful things to eat, choice bits she hadn’t tasted in months, their meager savings allowing only the bare essentials. And there were strawberries. She did love strawberries.
“Yes, Julia will be fine.” He offered her a scone before continuing. “She’s in Brighton now, but I’m hoping she’ll return home soon.”
Penelope detected a note of sadness in his words. Clearly, the matter troubled him. Her initial impression, that he possessed a genuine kindness, strengthened. She darted a glance to where he relaxed, noting he’d piled his plate high; his hearty appetite indicating they shared something in common.
“It sounds like the cause of my own distress, but then I suppose it’s a long road that doesn’t have a turn.” She took a bite of her food. “May I ask your opinion?” Her words held the smallest note of uncertainty. She hardly knew the man before her, yet he expressed such sympathy for his sister’s plight, she could not help but trust him.
His brows slashed low over his eyes as if he wasn’t sure how to answer, then he made quick work of a reply. “It would be my honor.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Be assured I am a veritable vault when it comes to secrets.”
His response was everything Penny needed to hear and she raised her wine for a fortifying sip before beginning her discreet confession. She included a respectful verisimilitude, editing when necessary to keep true the promise she’d made with Aubry to find Simon Maddock and force his repentance for wrongdoing; even if it meant embarrassment and exposure in the process. In truth, they had little choice. Money was running out no matter how parsimoniously they lived.
Of course, she had no one to blame for their hardship but herself. She’d pleaded with her father to release her dowry and entrust their savings to Simon’s promise of profitable wealth. Yet no such investments existed; at least none her father’s solicitors could secure in any London bank.
“Allow me to understand.”
Phineas finished a second serving of food and reclined on the blanket, his arms a support as he leaned backward, his long legs crossed at the ankles. Her pulse hitched a notch under the penetrating scrutiny of his amber stare.
“You wish to find a specific gentleman in London, although you won’t reveal his name. When he is located, you want to speak to him in private and the why of it, you also will not share. Is this correct?”
Penelope found it increasingly difficult to answer. Did he consider her request foolish? No matter the questions racing through her mind, she couldn’t break the hold of his speculative stare. He reminded her of a lion, tawny and regal, reposed, yet powerful. With a nervous swallow she reordered the path of her thoughts. Nothing but trouble was found the last time she opened her heart to emotion. She would need to be much smarter in the future.
“Stated like that it does sound a little far-fetched.” She placed her empty plate on the blanket and smoothed the crumbs from the skirt of her day gown. The faded fabric was hopelessly out of fashion. She wondered what Phineas thought of her appearance accompanied with her incredulous explanation. But no, he did not seem put off with her confession, only curious.
“Shall I clarify a bit more?” If he detected the compunctious tone of her voice, he was polite enough not to comment. More the pity she could never tell him the complete truth, but she would be mortified to reveal she’d been disgracefully left at the altar and made penniless in the same afternoon. He would think her impetuous at the least, unworthy at the worst and for some unidentifiable reason, the thought of Phineas establishing a lowered opinion shot a pulse of panic through her.
“I’m all ears.”
Did he merely humor her? He smiled and his face transformed from serene and inquisitive, to breathtakingly handsome in a heartbeat.
She cleared her throat with a small sound. “I’m seeking this man because he’s left me little choice but to do so. It is a matter of the utmost importance. Life and death one could even claim.” She let out a regretful sigh and cast her eyes downward. How embarrassing to be put in this situation. Simon’s actions were despicable and she’d happily see him drawn and quartered for the hurt he’d perpetuated on her family.
She raised her hand and gently placed it over her heart, remorse and regret causing her palm to tremble. Still as her emotions threatened to overtake her, she vowed to stop her foolish weeping and locate the man who had brought about their ruin. Without a doubt, he deserved not one tear.
Penelope appeared deeply troubled. When she laid her hand across her breast unable to form the words she’d given her heart to the gentleman she sought, it felt as though someone punched him in the stomach and Phineas couldn’t fathom why the admission would strike him with such intensity. It could only be the comparison to Julia’s condition.
He wondered at Penelope’s circumstances. She ate like she’d never seen food before and the observation urged the corner of his smile upward. How he detested females who spoke of nothing but maintaining their figure and, in turn, nibbled like a mouse, one berry or half a scone on their plate. He stole another glance, settling the heat of his gaze on her mouth in wait of the conversation.
Her lips were absolute perfection and a lovelier shade of pink he’d never seen. The sleek curves and delectable plumpness formed the most delicious little bow; although she did not look overfed. Quite the opposite. Did Penelope suffer from lovesickness, unable to eat because of her broken heart? Clearly there was much he needed to learn. One thought remained resolute, he would not play the role of paladin. This was Maman’s problem to solve.
“My mother could escort you to a few functions if it would offer the opportunity to learn the whereabouts of the gentleman in question. Not only would it be a safer arrangement than attempting the endeavor alone,” Phineas lowered his voice to emphasize the rest of his statement, “and I do not intend to sound braggadocio, but it would gain you entrance to the most sought-after invitations. My family is ever popular with the ton.”
“Oh.”
The one syllable expressed pure disappointment, and it didn’t take much logic to decipher the situation. “I assume my mother has already offered my services.”
He disliked the idea of spending more time in Penelope’s company, notwithstanding her heart belonged to another. He’d no use for serious relationships and the emotion involved. The entire situation evoked anger more than anything else. He’d had his fill of Maman’s meddling. His eye caught a small movement on the blanket and he flicked away an intrusive spider, annoyed he’d found himself in the middle of his mother’s manipulation.
“Would you do that for me? It’s all I desire.” Penelope’s eyes lit with sincere gratitude while her incredulous tone eased his temperament. “If you’d gain me entry to the more refined ton socials, I would be most thankful. I don’t want my troubles to become yours. I simply wish for the opportunity to resolve them myself.”
How very brave and interesting. Her words spoke of a determination he never would have detected in her sweet, unassuming countenance. This stranger’s reason for losing contact with Penelope ought to prove a good one. Why else wouldn’t someone spend time with the delightful creature in front of him? While he rarely intruded on personal matters, he would detest the effort were he to locate the man only to discover he effectuated a threat. Not one to raise his fists in anger, Phin would stand ready if a lady’s honor were at stake.
“It should not be a difficult task and in truth, your company in house will balm my mother’s concern for my sister. It does not signify she suggested Julia would benefit from the holiday. That fact remains inconsequential. Feel assured you’ve already returned the favor.”
He neglected to add how it also prevented Maman from turning more attention to her only son. Other motivating factors were at work. His mother wished for grandchildren, despite he was not reticent in his announcement he’d no wish to settle down. It did not signify many of his closest friends had come to a pass in their usual roguish activities, and now either considered the parson’s mousetrap or pursued it with zeal. Devlin Ravensdale, Duke of Wharncliffe existed as a prime example of how utterly euphoric the right union could be. His friend Constantine Highborough, once a notorious scoundrel, was also ensconced in wedded bliss.
But such relationships were rare and elusive; exceptions to the norm. His parents had more of an amicable friendship than a passionate love. His father spent most of his time traveling. Phin could easily recall childhood memories of vehement arguments recurring on a regular basis. Marriage presented a delicate balance of which he was not anxious to maneuver.
He settled his eyes on Penelope. Apparently this lady’s heart was given. It made no difference despite she possessed a certain something that provoked his interest. His thoughts returned to their earlier collision and his body’s immediate reaction. With a sideways glance he assessed her adorably thoughtful pose. Not a classic beauty, she appeared more a wildflower, fresh in its simplicity. Those freckles, now they were entrancing to say the least. And her long eyelashes, a soft mahogany color, framed each of her green eyes creating such a distinct outline, one would have to be daft not to notice their alluring effect.
He ignored the observations with a huff of impatience. Companionship and flirtatious endeavors withstanding, he sought nothing with permanence and this inconvenient attraction to Penelope was an unexpected irritation.
She turned to him then, her gaze provoking an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have eaten so fast. Things were running in deuces. Penelope’s eyes held the same forlorn expression he’d left behind in Brighton; and her actions, tentative as her words, reminded him of the anxiety-ridden conversation he’d had with Julia before leaving to journey home. He needed to do something to remedy Penelope’s distress. Best confront the facts so the issue could be solved and dismissed.
“Now here’s a bit of serendipity. Tomorrow evening the Pimbles are holding their annual masquerade. I normally dissolve into the night after I’ve attended for a reasonable amount of time, but I will endeavor to stay longer if you wish to initiate a few inquiries. With everyone’s face hidden behind a mask or domino, it will serve your purpose even if the gentleman you seek is covered in kind.”
He could only explain his sudden enthusiasm to attend an organized function due to Penelope’s beguiling nature. Her factitious mixture of innocence and subterfuge piqued his curiosity.
Penelope surrendered to a delighted clap before resting her hands in the skirt of her gown. The fabric looked worn and a little out of date, but he could never claim to be altogether current with fashion.
“And once you locate this gentleman, will all your problems be solved?”
Color drained from her cheeks. Apparently there remained more than she willingly revealed.
“I…I suppose.” She resisted the words as she said them. Then dismissing her response, she clasped her palms together with enthusiasm. “Oh, a masquerade will be perfect. I don’t want him to see me, not now at least.”
Perhaps she thought her words provided a sufficient answer because she reached for the last strawberry and took a dainty bite.
“Pardon?” His eyes narrowed with speculative curiosity as she adroitly sidestepped his inquiry.
“I would like to see what he’s doing and observe him unseen. We have much between us that needs to be settled.” She took another bite of the berry.
Phineas recalled the convoluted thoughts of his sister and her friends whenever they fancied themselves in love, and dismissed Penelope’s reply without further consideration. If only Julia was home, she could be of better assistance. Relationships and their related nonsense were hardly his forte.
“Well, we can talk about that later. I’ll need to know if this gentleman has committed you a wrong.”
She gave an abrupt cough, choking on the last bite of fruit and recovering although a drip of juice dropped to her skirt. She glanced downward and muttered something under her breath.
Phin pushed on. “I cannot protect you if you don’t allow me to know the circumstances.”
It sounded like an ultimatum and he hoped she realized he sought to avoid putting her in harm’s way. She had already taken some reckless chances. He suspected she was either impetuous, desperate, or worse, a combination of both.
“I can only tell you it is vital to my existence that I find this gentleman. I am grateful for any assistance as I’ve no one to depend on. My father passed months ago and my sister and I find ourselves unprotected and nearing dire straits.”
Her words came out in a threadbare whisper and he hardly heard her, his mind otherwise occupied with the phrase vital to my existence. Relationships were dangerous. Never would he allow someone such a firm hold on his direction in life.
Still he would help Penelope if possible. Why would the gentleman abandon her during this time of need? The only way to elucidate the answers would be to spend more time in her company. A task he would accept as duty, nothing more.
Feminine chatter drew his attention to the walkway where Maman and Aubry appeared soon after. Glad for the additional company and the distraction the two could provide, he watched the three ladies converse in the waning afternoon sun, while his mind considered Penelope’s somewhat illogical explanation and false show of bravado. For as much as he could tell, she appeared a very scared young woman attempting to accomplish a nearly impossible task.
Chapter Four (#ulink_2814601a-93c3-522c-b761-c0335cb8dcdd)
Phineas pushed through the door of Tattersalls and into the crowd, packed front door to rear, a sense of anticipation and wealth heavy in the air. No mere coincidence brought him to the club. Like everyone else, he wished to see Lord Trumpington’s grey go up on the block. The auction promised to be the most anticipated bloodstock offering at the horse house in months. Not one to spare a pound to improve his stable, Phineas aimed to purchase the animal. With careful planning, his unexpected trip to Brighton hadn’t interfered. Waving his hand in greeting to a friend across the room, the two met at the doorway and walked further down the ramp toward the stable area.
“Have you had a look, Dev?”
Devlin Ravensdale, Duke of Wharncliffe was a venerable expert with horses of every kind. Phin hoped Devlin’s report proved pristine so he could proceed with the sale.
“He’s remarkable, Phin. You’ll definitely want to win this auction. I haven’t seen a better example of horseflesh in the entire General Stud Book. As a direct descendant of one of the foundation sires, he’s a pure thoroughbred. If you weren’t so set on buying him yourself, I would steal him out from underneath you.”
They chuckled and then, reconsidering, Phin dropped all humor. “No, you wouldn’t.” He eyed his friend sincerely. Devlin possessed enough money to buy Tattersalls, never mind a single thoroughbred, so Phin held no doubt he would purchase the horse if not for their friendship. They had grown up together and couldn’t be more loyal comrades.
“Of course I would, so I could turn around and gift him to you.”
“No matter how much you appreciate our friendship and attribute your marital happiness to my interference, at one point you will need to stop buying me extravagant gifts. There is no debt to repay.” With the next breath, another subject leapt to the forefront. “I returned from Brighton to find my mother in house.” His voice held a dubious tone.
Devlin arched a dark brow. “You don’t say? I thought she’d decided to spend the rest of the season at Betcham Manor.” He swung open the stable door so his friend could pass.
Phineas grinned. “So did I. But she was there when I arrived home accompanied by two houseguests. Three, if you include her annoying parrot.”
Devlin followed him into the stable. “So, you haven’t gotten rid of the bird?”
“Not yet. But I may be able to recruit Jenkins to the dirty deed if the opportunity presents itself.”
Devlin nudged Phineas before replying. “Well count me in if it turns out to be a three man job.”
“As you wish.”
They neared the livestock area, aisle after aisle of wooden stalls, where a soft nicker or objecting whinny rent the air to interrupt their conversation despite the humid scent and fragrant straw proved a constant reminder of their purpose. Their steps quickened as they approached an outlying stable.
“I assume it was difficult for your mother to plan your future from the countryside.” Devlin indicated a booth just ahead. “Is there more to this story?”
“Actually there is. Quite a bit more.” But Phin stopped short in the retelling as his eyes swept over the magnificent animal in true appreciation. “I’ll tell you about Maman later. Let’s have a look.” Phineas stepped closer and ran his palm down the stallion’s fetlock. The horse stood at least fifteen hands high. Strong and well built, lean and fit, the thoroughbred was undoubtedly a sweetgoer.
“I am determined to win this auction. No matter the cost.”
The thoroughbred snorted and side-stepped, causing the men to shift their attention to the wooden ramp where a stranger lingered.
“A pure beauty that one. I’ve heard it’s the prize of the auction block today.”
The interloper eschewed a polite introduction and instead leaned against the gate wearing a cocky sneer. He continued to speak even though both men declined to reply.
“I heard the horse is damaged goods though. Too bad, it is.”
“Heard from whom and where?” Devlin stepped forward, annoyed with the rude pup who thought to interrupt and invite himself into a private conversation.
“I’ve heard it about. Some fool will purchase the horse and wind up with a problem instead.”
Phineas stepped to the forefront, the same annoyed insolence marring his face as displayed on Devlin’s. Something in the ostentatious nature of the interloper’s tone made him readily defensive. “This horse is in fine condition. Rumors circulate before auctions all the time. You’d do well to ignore them.” And then, against his better judgment, but with the same impeccable manners he always employed, he continued, “Viscount Fenhurst. Have we met before?” He initiated a handshake, skeptical of the man’s intentions.
Devlin watched the exchange with cautious interest.
“I haven’t had the pleasure. I’m Lord Ridley. My friends call me Arlis.”
Devlin interrupted with a mutter meant for Phin’s ear only. “I wouldn’t doubt the entire audience knows you’re vying for this horse. Don’t let your guard down.”
Phin nodded in agreement.
“Are you new in town? New to Tattersalls?” Phin continued to assess the dark-haired gentleman with narrowed eyes. As a good judge of character, something did not sit right. He frequented the horse house often and recognized everyone. Undoubtedly he’d never seen this man. The contrasting shock of white hair near his temple guaranteed he would remember such an uncommon appearance.
Ridley didn’t answer, posing a question of his own. “Are you fixing to bid on Trump’s horse then? I could only aspire to purchase such a fine animal.”
Phineas deferred to ignore the rude inquiry. Devlin spoke in low tones, discussing the horse and simultaneously dismissing Ridley.
“You have nothing to worry about, Phin. No one can match your bid and even if they do, you’ll have me for reinforcement. The animal is too good to pass. I spoke with Trumpington last evening at the club. He knows you’re his prime investor. I’m confident you will be riding this animal in two days’ time. More’s the pity you will house him at Betcham Manor when he’s a natural for the Ascot Racecourse.”
Phin could not stave off a smile. “You never gamble anyway. The horse is better off with me. Now let’s get back to the main floor. I have a lot to tell you. I may have been in Brighton for a fortnight, but I feel like it’s been more akin to a month.”
The two friends left the paddock and walked past Ridley with nothing more than a nod.
“So tell me about your houseguests.” Devlin glanced up from his perusal of the auction pamphlet.
The two men reposed in one of Tattersalls subscription rooms enjoying a brandy. The auction holding their interest wouldn’t start for another hour and there would be many other animals for bid before Trumpington’s horse took the block.
“After the morning I experienced returning from Brighton, breaking my fishing reel—”
“Not the Nottingham rod I just gave you?”
His friend’s immediate interjection voiced disappointment that mirrored his own and Phineas cursed himself for the slip of tongue.
“Unfortunately that’s the one. My entire morning proved unbearable, but it didn’t end there.” Phineas released a sigh of frustration. “I arrived home to find Jenkins with his smalls in a twist, my entire staff bustling about readying the house for the unexpected visit of Maman and her new friends.” He took a sip of brandy, his voice dropping lower. “Penelope Rosebery and her younger sister do seem lovely ladies.”
“Do I detect a note of interest?” Friendly mockery laced Devlin’s question.
“You sound like your wife, except you know I’m in no hurry to marry; although Penelope is pretty in an unusual sort of way. She has the most extraordinary eyes.” Phin didn’t mention the long list of other attributes rushing to mind. He wondered if Penelope had freckles elsewhere on her body or were the charming little spots designed exclusively for her perfectly kiss-worthy nose.
Devlin smirked and finished his brandy.
“What?” Phineas shook his head. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re as transparent as glass and as forthcoming as a waterfall, so let’s hope you weren’t of the same mind in front of said female.” Devlin smothered a grin.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Penelope’s in London to locate someone in particular. She confessed she has strong feelings for the gentleman.” Phin didn’t share his theory concerning her interests. He’d be every kind of fool to offer further ammunition to his far too witty friend.
“There you are!” Constantine Highborough, Earl of Colehill, approached their table with wholehearted greetings. Lord Harold Chadling followed closely behind. The two gentlemen attended Cambridge with Phin and had come to fetch him as the Trumpington horse was going up on the block earlier than expected.
“There’s a rumbling in the crowd that the horse is unfit.” Harold offered this as the men walked toward the auction house. “The earlier time is meant to avoid further speculation that the animal is damaged goods.”
“Complete rubbish.” Phin knew the rumor as an old ploy to try to diminish bidding. “Have you heard the same, Con?”
Constantine Highborough held the favor of the ton. The folds of his starched white cravat were as perfectly formed as every feature of his face. He moved in all the right social circles and provided the perfect resource for confirming or deflating a rumor.
“Only as of today. Have you met the newcomer Ridley? I’ve heard more speculation about that man than Trump’s horse.”
“In reference to what exactly?” Devlin leaned against the doorframe of the private area where they waited.
“It is said he’s not to be trusted and you can almost see it in his eyes when you look at the man. He doesn’t hold for very long. I would wager he started the rumors concerning today’s auction.” Constantine always cut straight to the truth. “He’s an odd looking man, with that misplaced patch of white against his dark hair. He reminds me of a badger and badgers are sneaky.”
All four men reviewed Ridley. He lingered near the auction platform and appeared overeager. Phineas fingered his lucky coin, safely tucked in his trouser pocket. He intended to win this auction, no matter the extended interest by those out to strengthen their stable. Ridley’s presence did not deter his purpose and Phin wasn’t one to entertain ludicrous harbingers or speculative gossip.
Devlin agreed. “I don’t like him. He interrupted our inspection of the grey earlier and hadn’t the decency to initiate proper introductions or refrain from rude questions. He also stated he didn’t have the pockets for such an animal, so what purpose would be served by deflecting others with rumors about the horse’s health?” Unmistakable dislike furrowed Devlin’s expression.
The conversation proceeded no further as the auctioneer began to call, his deep tenor settling the crowd with alacrity, although a tremor of tentative anticipation reverberated throughout. Bid after bid, the offer for Trump’s horse climbed to an impressive high, the room fell silent and Phineas stood poised to win. The gavel sounded with a second fall. One more strike and Phin would own the horse, but when a male voice objected from the front row, the agent paused. An obstreperous rumble rushed through the room, while the same boisterous voice interrupted with what could only be a higher amount.
The new offer nearly doubled the suspended bid and Phineas, caught off guard as he’d become lost in consideration of Penelope’s fine qualities, jerked to awareness, unsure of what occurred. If Devlin hadn’t rapped his arm he would have missed the opportunity altogether, but instead he whipped his arm upward and dropped the auction paddle. The gavel fell while he attempted to muddle through the occurrence and recover.
“It was Ridley. There’s no way he can sustain that kind of funding and have remained so invisible here in London. The man is proving to be a nuisance.” Harry couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice and Harold Chadling rarely voiced an unpleasant word against anyone. Devlin and Con agreed.
“I would go to him even though he underhandedly won this auction, but without a doubt I am sure it is expected.” Phin threw an angry glare in Ridley’s direction. The crowd had surrounded the man in congratulations and the scene stoked his temper. “Let’s go, gentleman. Ridley played me the fool and I will not easily forget it. I am done here.” He dropped the auction pamphlet and left Tattersalls without another word.
It was half past midnight when Phineas fumbled for the key in his pocket as he stood on the lantern-lit porch of the East End apartment. He didn’t fear for his safety, his fists as lethal as any weapon, but one needed to stay alert during the dead hours, most especially in this section of London.
The curtain fluttered in the window to his left and then the door cracked open far enough for him to see the illuminated smile of the lady within.
“You’ll catch a chill. The dampness of this fog burrows straight to the bones.”
Her concerned tone caused him to grin despite she continued to chide him. He knew her words held a note of affection.
“And where is your coat and cravat? I suppose you thought it would be quicker this way?”
She tugged him off the porch and into the hall, as if her admonishment wouldn’t serve its purpose.
“It is most efficient given I’m restricted to this ungodly hour under the cover of the night, still I couldn’t wait to get here. I’ve had more than my share of disappointment today. A little pleasantness would serve me well.”
She laughed softly as she led him to the back of the house, the rustling swish of her skirts followed by his boot heels, the only sounds to be heard in the hall.
Chapter Five (#ulink_686458dd-e4b5-5580-a0f7-34a5c39e29ed)
“Cursed imagination. I do not need another problem.” Muttering, Phineas slit his eyes the sufficient width to see the gilded clock on the mantel in his bedchamber. It read half six in the morning. Even his valet would be hesitant to wake him at such an early hour, yet his nightly dreams upheld no such reluctance in gulling him awake with vigorous suggestions concerning his new houseguest.
Her hair reminded him of cinnamon biscuits and her fetching smile made his heartbeat quicken. How would she taste were he to kiss her lips or nibble on her graceful neck? Was she as delicious from head to toe as she appeared? Were he to have a sweet sample of her affection, would she prove as irresistible to all of his senses as his wild imaginings taunted, her skin as silken, her cries of pleasure as melodic, her scent as delectable as his fantasies insisted true?
Much to his dismay, his sensual daydreams concluded with a forceful intrusion of honor, spurring his conscience into banishing the luscious fantasies and replacing the delightful images with self-admonishment and harsh recrimination. Penelope was an itch he couldn’t scratch. The lady had confessed her heart remained with another and he’d vowed never to become entangled in affection. He didn’t want to think of her. Damn it all, he didn’t want anything to do with her or her problem. With determination he rallied his mantra: no wife, happy life.
It was difficult enough living with his marriage-minded mother in house without having to look out a window whenever Penelope neared or risk revealing his forbidden fantasies through inelegant body language, his cock hard.
He had avoided taking meals at home yesterday, but he couldn’t continue for long in the same fashion. It was his home they’d all but invaded to obliterate his quietude.
A sharp squawk resounded from below stairs and he groaned.
Intent on speaking to Maman and encouraging a Herculean effort to complete Penelope’s request so to be rid of her, Phin dressed for breakfast and entered the morning room with newly constituted resolve. Sunlight slanted through the windows with aggressive cheerfulness matched by the floral tapestries and scenic artwork that decorated the walls. Random artifacts, collected by his father during his travels and installed on a grand bookcase, was centered between the curtain-drawn windows. He crossed the tiled floor, his boots tapping a determined tempo.
His mother sat at the breakfast table alone. Already the day proved promising. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and settled in a chair, anxious to delve into the food and the subject at hand. Mon Ami, his mother’s parrot, eyed him derisively from the elaborate white cage perched near the far side of the dining table.
“There you are.” His mother smiled grandly. “I worried I would have to eat without company this morning. I sent Penelope and Aubry to the modiste with two maids. They will not return for some time. Where have you been for the past day and a half?” Without pause, she leaned toward the cage as the parrot began to chatter. “Mon Ami, stop that ridiculous nonsense.” She clicked her tongue at the red macaw before returning her attention to her son. “So everything is in order in Brighton? You found your aunt and uncle well? The entire situation has left me beside myself with concern. I’m relieved Julia is removed, but I worry still. I hope the time away will ease her heart. One cannot be sure.”
Phineas knew Julia would not be assuaged until he supplied the answers she sought, but Maman need not know those particulars. Before they’d departed for Brighton, he’d helped his sister send a missive to Winton’s residence and the envelope returned unopened. It added insult to injury the man would not explain his actions. No, he could never break his sister’s trust nor confide his intentions to his mother. Maman already worried over her daughter. He refused to add concerns.
Mon Ami fluttered his wings and the unexpected sound interrupted Phin’s reflective musings. Nonplussed, his mother pursued her favorite subject with zeal.
“So when are you going to make me happy and choose a wife? Every time we attend a function you dance a waltz or two, but never with the same female. Then like magic, you disappear. Mon dieu! How are you going to find a mate if you nary pay attention to the same lady and spend all your free time with horses? Wharncliffe has found happiness in marriage. You’ll be a fish out of water as soon as the rest of your friends follow suit. What is holding you back from making me a grand mere?”
At sixty two years of age, Victoria Betcham remained a force to be reckoned with and Phin suspected it was the reason his father spent so much time out of house. By aristocratic standards, his parents shared a happy match, but that hypocritical misconception fed his discontent. With his father abroad for long stretches, his mother focused on finding him a wife and every conversation followed the same path. She accepted all invitations, schemed with anxious dowagers in dark corners of the ballroom, and prodded him with sentiments of disappointment whenever possible. Nevertheless, the thought of marriage caused his brain to twitch.
No wife, happy life.
“It’s too early for this conversation. I haven’t eaten.” Adjusting his cravat, he donned a tolerant expression and reached for a platter of food. He made no secret he held severe reservations about marriage, so where lay the purpose in attending society’s gatherings if not to meet a future wife?
“As long as I’ve your undivided attention, I see no reason not to discuss what is most important. Besides,” Victoria Betcham spooned sugar into her teacup before she glanced across the table, maternal concern softening her expression. “I worry about you, and I know you do not wish to cause me sorrow.”
Phin sliced the ham on his plate with thoughtful concentration. His mother possessed a talent for creating conversations provoking the participants to unintentionally bare their souls. He’d grown wise to her technique. Her English-French mixture proved a charming tool in her arsenal of information recognizance, as did her cunning utilization of self-distress; and while she offered innocence in her demeanor at first perception, it was always in one’s best interest to be on guard from her propinquity to achieve her goals.
“Never would I wish you discontent, Maman. However, as I have no immediate thoughts of marrying, the season’s ever present schedule of masquerades and parlor parties holds little appeal. It makes sense to leave before the hour grows late.” He dared a glance in her direction. If anything, it appeared his mother accepted his explanations, reasoning and excuses with an elaborate show of ennui. A change of subject was in order, no matter how the two issues overlapped.
“Now with Penelope in house, I will be forced to attend a string of events.” He paused, allowing the information to settle. For some strange reason his heart thrummed a rapid beat. “While not exactly what you desire, due to your meddlesome offer I’ll be present at social functions nonetheless.” The irony of the situation brought his words forth in a tetchy tone.
His mother beamed. “How perfectly wonderful. Penelope is delightful, don’t you agree? A clever, lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to gain her attention. You should be giving more thought to your future.”
Phineas scoffed as he loaded his plate with kippers and eggs. “You speak as though I’m at the end of my rope instead of one and thirty.” He slid a finger into the knot of his cravat. In his hurry he had tied the cloth too tightly, the accessory fast becoming a noose.
His mother rose from the table and floated toward Mon Ami’s cage. As she stood, Phineas was inclined to do so and he walked to the sideboard to pour himself coffee. Tea just wasn’t the thing when battling Maman and her marriage lectures. “I’ll know the lady who’ll claim my heart when I meet her.” He pursued his goal. “By the by, have you garnered any information pertaining to the gentleman Penelope seeks? With the Pimbles’ masquerade this evening, I may solve her problem with alacrity if I possess purposeful information concerning the anonymous gentleman.”
Maman stopped feeding seeds to Mon Ami and offered her full attention. “Penelope has not mentioned specifics. I’m overjoyed to have the sisters in house. With Julia away, it is a balm to soothe my spirits. Not only will we assist the ladies, but I’ll be able to spoil them for a spell. They’ve experienced horridly difficult times. Bringing them to London presents a rare opportunity for all of us.”
Phineas quirked a brow at the troubling gleam in his mother’s eye. Considering her words with caution, he returned to the table. Surely she could not believe her veiled insinuations would go unnoticed. He watched her whisper enamored compliments to the parrot as she offered a sliver of fruit between the bars.
“My sweet Mon Ami has a French appetite.”
“That bird is from Africa.” It seemed necessary for him to point out the obvious. “Pity we can’t send it back.”
Maman did not object to the latter mutter and continued a string of coos. Phineas scoffed. Who had the birdbrain in the room? Helping himself to another serving of eggs, he awaited his mother’s reply.
“Alors, the English will never understand the French when it comes to food.” Her face reflected true pity. “Now, listen closely. We have a wonderful opportunity before us. Let us not waste it. Promise me you’ll work harder at finding a wife.”
Phineas noted his mother’s tone, full of crisp precision. “Oh, I am aware of your impatience to see me happily settled.” Once again, he attempted to bring the conversation to rights. “If nothing else, attending social events as a favor to Penelope will also lend me to abide your wishes.” He placed his napkin on the table and left, discarding the food on his plate with the same alacrity as the wishes of his mother.
Later that afternoon, Phin met his mother in the drawing room. He’d spent the day seeking information concerning Daniel Winton and had little to show for his effort, although Constantine uncovered a possibility and agreed to notify him if the rumour proved reliable. After meeting with Con, Phin went for a long ride to clear his thoughts. Rarely one to take life seriously or harbor poor feelings toward others, he would be pleased to have Julia’s issue and Penelope’s, put to rest. Fishing, boxing, horseracing; everything comprising the natural simplicity of his life was pushed to the side for the matters at hand.
Now, dressed in formal attire for the Pimbles’ masquerade, he awaited Penelope’s entrance, as did Maman. Aubry would be staying home of course, not having had her proper come out.
Approaching footsteps turned all attention toward the door. Jenkins cleared his throat and then a shadowy figure skirted past the staid butler. Phin had managed fleeting glimpses of Penelope since his abrupt decision to stay out of her path, but no one could deny she was present now.
Once his eyes skimmed over her slim silhouette the floor fell away. Gone was the faded day gown and mousy straw bonnet, her hair unbraided, her repose no longer reticent. Instead, a grand beauty waited inside the doorframe. The room grew silent and time stretched until Mon Ami, the offensive bird, released an intrusive squawk. Penelope startled, recovered just as quickly, and smothered a bemused smile. Phineas told his feet to move but Maman passed him on her way across the room.
“Jolie mademoiselle, you look lovely from head to toe.” She clasped Penelope’s hands and pulled her forward. “I shall be proud to introduce you to everyone this evening. You will do nicely.”
Wasting not another breath listening to his mother’s chatter, Phineas locked Penelope’s gloved hands in his, his heartbeat kicking up speed with the motion. Maman could not have been more correct. Penelope looked breathtaking, as delicious as a treacle dream. She dropped into a deep curtsy and the action allowed him an enticing glimpse of the creamy skin framed by her bodice.
“Phineas,” Maman called with a delighted trill.
What a magnificent transformation. Oh, Penelope had appeared lovely in the gardens, in the sunlight as beautiful as a wildflower, but this evening in a modern gold-colored gown of fine velvet, she looked as exquisite as any debuted female of the ton.
No. She looked better. Desire quickened his blood.
“Phineas!”
She possessed a freshness that could not be feigned. He pressed a lingering kiss to her gloved fingers, all the while his eyes drank in her green gaze, wishing to memorize every detail of her appearance.
“Phineas.” Penelope tugged her hand. “Your mother is calling you.”
She leaned in with a conspiring whisper and Phineas caught the light scent of vanilla. He stalled for a breath before releasing her glove, his heart thudding a heavy beat and then he smiled, thankful for the verbal nudge.
“Where have we heard the Rosebery name before? Penelope, did your father remain active in society?” Lady Fenhurst motioned toward the overstuffed chairs.
Phineas walked to the fireplace to attend to the flames all the while willing his body to co-operate. “I can’t say, Maman.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Penelope grin at his use of the familiarity. Should he be embarrassed? It was foolish in the extreme to put such acute interest in someone’s impression that the typical be overthought. Still an unwelcome heat warmed the back of his neck. He turned to focus on the discussion in the room.
His mother’s voluble conversation flew from her faster than a hummingbird’s wings, the different societal events they would attend together, the opportunity to mix with the oldest members of the ton all in a combination of mostly English, a little French and the occasional squawk of an overfed parrot.
How twisted and ironic, and a little too complicated, having Penelope in house while she sought the man for whom she had tender feelings. Everyone referred to Phin’s resplendent virtues as a prime example of the self-possessed gentleman, yet the perception evoked a wry smile. While he did not make a show of his habits and preferred his relationships kept private cloaked by the night hours, he was a man with masculine needs and urges. Something about his new houseguest ignited all the wrong desires.
His eyes sought Penelope. By damn, if she wasn’t completely fetching. Candlelight reflected off the wayward curls resting against her shoulders to highlight their silky appeal. His fingers twitched with restlessness, interrupted by the clock chiming nine. They walked to the hall in wait of the carriage, his mother and Penelope engrossed in animated conversation.
Without warning Maman drew up sharply, halting everyone in step.
“Mon dieu, I forgot the letter I promised Lady Pimble. She depends upon receiving the correspondence this evening.” Overwrought with the realization, Maman pursued the stairs.
“At her own masquerade?” Impatience marred Phin’s words, then catching himself, he amended his tone. “It is no matter if we arrive a few minutes late. We’ll wait for you in the foyer. There’s sure to be a crush at the receiving line. It will not signify if we’re at the beginning or end.” He forced a tight smile before glancing in Penelope’s direction. His expression eased as he noticed the genuine pleasure reflected in her eyes.
“No, I would never cause a delay because of my forgetfulness.” Maman continued with insistence. “You must proceed. I will have Jenkins summon the footmen to ready another carriage.”
She moved across the hall to the far staircase as Phin argued the point. He already fought a troublesome desire to pay closer attention to Penelope. No good could come from being sequestered in a dimly lit carriage for thirty minutes.
“That is unnecessary.” He objected, full-knowing there was no way to win the argument against Maman’s determination. This trait of her personality had amplified as the years passed. Her mind was made and there would be no unmaking it.
“I cannot recall where I left the letter. It will take time for me to locate it. I’ll follow as soon as I have it safely tucked inside my reticule.” She patted her purse as if he needed the visual aid and bid them goodbye with a quick flick of her wrist, her back turned as she scurried for the stairs.
Phin couldn’t ever recall seeing his mother move so quickly. He stared into the space she once occupied as a scoff of skepticism escaped. He turned though, not foolish enough to waste the time he could prod Penelope for answers and taking her elbow, escorted her to the carriage. Her hand held tightly to his as he offered her up the steps and an invigorating rebellion caused him to hold hers in the same fashion.
Once seated, amusement and curiosity banished all thoughts of Maman. His eyes trailed after Penelope’s gloved fingers as they stroked the velvet squabs with reverent care. His carriage was fine, there was no doubt, and the unabashed awe she showed in its luxury urged he silently commend himself for the purchase solely because it pleased her. Entranced by her beguiling expression he did not acknowledge the unsettling silence. Then, almost as if they simultaneously found awareness, her gaze caught his and they spoke together. He nodded with a chuckle, to indicate she should continue.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Her voice sounded light and breathy, a seductive entreaty in the near darkness.
“There is nothing for which to thank me.” He smiled again. “My mother and I are happy to provide you with an avenue to resolve your problem. It is the duty of any upstanding gentleman within the ton.” He almost choked on the latter portion of his statement. While those words rang true of Harold, they certainly did not apply to Con. Before he’d married Isabelle, Constantine enjoyed beautiful women thoroughly and might have considered keeping Penelope for himself. Good thing Con had found security and long-lasting love. A rare marriage, indeed. He dismissed the thought.
“You look beautiful this evening.” He turned to glance out the window. He wasn’t one to quote poetic. Somehow the words spoke themselves.
“Thank you.” She played with her purse strings. “You don’t recognize the Rosebery name?”
Her delicate brows drew together as if she wished him to know something he did not.
“Should I? You mentioned your father was a baron with holdings in the Cotswolds. I am afraid I never made his acquaintance.” He couldn’t know she meant because of scandal, instead the silence stretched on before she spoke again.
“Have you met Lady Elizabeth Bretton? In our correspondence she mentioned becoming enmeshed in London society. Do you think she exaggerated?”
The humor in her voice allowed his smile freedom.
“She may view her entrée in such a manner. I, for one, cannot recall having an introduction, although I’m not one to linger with the debutantes. The name sounds vaguely familiar. Were my sister here we could solve the problem. Julia memorizes the social register.” He glanced out the window at the passing coaches. Myriad stars winked overhead. Such a clear night. A rarity for London.
For several breaths they heard nothing but the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels.
And then, “I met a friend of yours today at the modiste shop. Lady Alexandra Ravensdale. She spoke of you with fondness.”
Excitement punctuated the retelling and he turned his head in surprise. “Did she? Her husband, the Duke of Wharncliffe, and I are great friends. I have known Devlin for nearly my entire life.”
“Alexandra helped me select this gown.” Her eyes flittered to her silk skirt before rising to hold his gaze. “It is the loveliest dress I’ve ever worn.”
The honest excitement in her voice entranced him. Lord, his sister possessed dozens of gowns and complained regularly she had nothing to wear.
He attempted to occupy himself with examining the carriage interior, his eyes hungrily returning to Penelope nevertheless. She should feel special this evening. Each time he glanced in her direction it became more difficult for him to tear his eyes away. She looked exquisite, as tempting and delicate as a French dessert, draped in smooth silky frosting with the promise of a warm, sweet center. The thought of indulging caused his mouth to water, his fingertips to itch with the desire to glide over every curve of the shimmering fabric caressing her delectable body. He swallowed nervously and readjusted himself on the seat.
“Her Grace is so beautiful.” She sounded a little in awe with the statement.
Good lord, so are you. Breathtaking, actually.
“Devlin and Lexi married a short time ago. They are well matched and genuinely happy.” Phin smiled at the remembrance. What were the odds of finding someone to cherish? One hundred? Two thousand? One million to one?
“They seem exorbitantly so. It’s easy to see she holds his heart.”
Who holds yours, Penny?
“Yes, their story is an interesting one. Mayhap there will be a day when we’re kept indoors by the weather or have run out of things to say and I can retell it to you.” His voice dropped to a low tone as if he shared a secret or did not know what to expect in her reply.
“I am sure I would enjoy hearing it. You make it sound very intriguing.”
Oh no, it is you who remains intriguing. A beautiful little mystery.
He studied her profile with intense interest. The picture he’d drawn with his words hinted at a long, satisfying relationship and he could not fathom why he’d suggested such a thing, most especially while he knew the circumstances surrounding her visit. Nevertheless an exhilarating thrill shot through him at the anticipation of a future with Penelope present. That is, until he solved her problem and said his farewells.
“I would like that.” She smiled and he returned it with one of his own.
Chapter Six (#ulink_ae61e18e-f436-540b-97be-acb2d8615a09)
Penelope was becoming adept at keeping secrets. When she’d arrived to the city with its expensive avenues and properties, she harbored heartfelt gratitude for Lady Fenhurst. Less than a week ago, her life was at its bleakest. Now the last few days had transformed into a fairytale from a humble country cottage to a lavish London townhouse. And she was on her way to a function of the haut ton. The tumultuous series of events spun through her head with unbridled excitement.
Still the true impetus of her exhilaration sat across from her. She appreciated the perfection found in Phineas this evening, waiting across the drawing room unbelievably handsome in his formal attire. She liked him well enough in a linen shirt on the picnic blanket. She never expected him to exceed her wildest imaginings by appearing heart-stoppingly handsome in a cutaway tail coat and cravat.
He’d smiled at her when she’d come through the doorway, a devastatingly rakish smile, and his hair caught a warm gloss from the firelight. She would always remember his image and the invigorating rush of her heartbeat in that moment.
Now, ensconced in comfortable silence within the carriage, her pulse thrummed in her ears begging her to produce a scrap of clever conversation. But did it even matter? Phineas belonged to a highly respected family favored by the good ton. Why would he give her a second thought? Likely every flirtatious debutante in London offered him their adoration.
She stole another glance beneath lowered lashes. His wavy brown hair was combed away from his face to lend him a boyish look, while broad, strong shoulders filled his navy blue waistcoat marking him all man. Penelope averted her eyes to where a perfectly folded cravat brushed his chin. He had the nicest cleft there. If only she could reach across and touch the indentation, feel the roughened dip of skin, appreciate the strength of such a sturdy attractive chin. It somehow made her feel safe. Could a facial feature do that? His amber eyes glistened in the lantern light whenever he turned to speak. She blinked hard to stifle her preoccupation, then recited a silent litany of self-admonishment to quiet the bevy of butterflies come to life in her stomach.
It was all for naught, to notice and memorize each of his features as if it would matter in the end. How wonderful to live in his home and become acquainted with his family, and to stop worrying about the rent or sufficient food for their meals. Oh, it was the least she owed Aubry. But in regard to Phineas, she squelched any hope. She was nothing more than the eldest daughter of a country baron and penniless to boot. Once the extent of her mistakes became known, he would be forced to distance himself or run the risk of shameful embarrassment. The realization that she might cause the Betcham family discomfiture threatened to surface but she declined to let it take hold.
“Do you think it will be a large crush?” Her voice broke on the words. She hoped her tangled rush of emotions didn’t show in her eyes.
“I am sure of it and that reminds me.” He picked up the split seat of the bench, removed a small box and opened it to reveal several masks and dominoes.
“I wasn’t sure what color you would be wearing this evening so I purchased one in every hue.”
He offered her the box and she took it to her lap. Every mask appeared lovelier than the next, the decision difficult, until she selected a gold and green pairing accented with peacock feathers. With the patterned silk of her gown, she knew it presented the perfect match.
“Which will you wear?” She handed him the box and waited for his answer. He chuckled, a warm rich sound, much like the hot chocolate she drank when she was a child.
“I’m not a participant when it comes to the masquerading aspect of the evening. My mother attempts to convince me every year, but I’m not one to play at idle games.”
“Don’t you find the masquerading amusing? The idea of dancing and socializing while hidden behind a mask sounds enthralling. And tonight, it serves my purpose well. I noticed a solid blue mask near the bottom of the pile. It would complement your suit.” She looked up at him with a hopeful note in her voice.
Phin’s amber eyes locked to hers, his expression unreadable. When he did not reply, she replaced the lid on the box, but he stalled her hand. His grasp, incredibly strong, awoke an unbidden spark of desire that intensified the intimate confines of the carriage.
“Far be it from me to ruin your fun.” His low murmur whispered through the shadowy lantern light. “Tonight, for you, I will make an exception.” Then he winked at her and she forgot to breathe.
With purposeful fingers he removed the blue domino and placed it on the bench. Penelope detected an approximation of indecision and wondered at his odd expression. Did he hold his own secret? Or worse, did she look too deeply, tainted by her experience and wary of everyone since Simon played her false? All her misery began and ended with that one despicable individual.
“I am hopeful I will be able to locate the person I seek this evening. Imagine my good fortune if it should all prove so easy.” She tried to sound as if her future did not depend on it.
“I will assist you in any manner I am able.”
He appeared relaxed again, his eyes sincere.
“I realize you have only requested an escort, but were you to tell me the gentleman’s name I could help with expediency.”
Indecision forced the butterflies in her stomach into a panicked flutter. She strove to keep her courage intact and breech the uncomfortable silence. “I wouldn’t want you or your mother to feel any type of involvement on my behalf. You have already shown me great generosity.”
Sensing his disappointment, she focused on the domino lying beside him. His fingers worked idly at the edge of the mask, his skillful movements manipulating the ribbon in a repeated pattern. His hands, large and powerful, exuded a sense of control and she exhaled with calm. Transfixed, she watched his fingers bend, then smooth, the thin ribbon in a repeated motion. How might it feel were those same fingers tilting her chin to capture a kiss? Or intertwined in hers as they shared a waltz? Good lord, she was every kind of fool. Having once risked her heart with disastrous results, why could she not learn to be more prudent?
Upset she may have spoiled the evening before they’d arrived, Penelope fumbled for any explanation he would accept. “I’m sorry I cannot explain further. It’s a private matter and as such, is imperative I find and speak to him alone.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” He turned to her with a serious look, his face half lit by the lantern, handsome and unwavering in the fractured light. “I will shadow you, protect you and keep you under my watchful eye until this business of yours is concluded.”
His statement pre-empted argument and she wondered at his protective attitude. Did she imagine his tone implied something beyond friendship? The niggling thought refused to sit right. Wasn’t this how she found disaster the first time? By not seeing things clearly?
The carriage pulled to a stop interrupting her muddled considerations and Penelope promptly exited, grasping Phin’s arm as he led her away from the drive and down the candlelit walkway. She almost stumbled when he stopped without warning, his purposeful strides veering them off the path and behind a tall hedgerow.
“Phineas?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if they played a child’s game.
Without a word, he positioned her gently, his fingers embracing her bare shoulders and with a twist, she no longer faced him. Then he slipped from her grasp the mask she’d long forgotten, bringing it over her head while he deftly sorted the ribbon ties.
“It won’t do for us to walk inside without our disguises in place.”
Although his words rushed past her ear, his fingers stalled in motion. Two of the ribbons fell and brushed against her shoulders. Phineas fumbled to recapture them, his knuckles sweeping across her cheekbone in an unexpected caress. Then he shifted position, and muttered something under his breath.
After a motionless minute, she could no longer contain her giggle. “The mask is slipping.” Her cheeky smile buoyed it into place. If only she could see his face and understand what he was thinking.
Instead standing in the intimate shadows, she heard him mumble words undecipherable as his fingers tightened the knots. After a rough sounding exhale, he stepped away busy with his own disguise, his body slanted from her view. They followed the slate path together and found themselves in the ballroom trailing an endless receiving line. There was nothing to do but wait, although the momentary delay offered the perfect opportunity to absorb the lavish decorations and opulent splendor surrounding them.
Brilliant crystal chandeliers, glistening with candlelight and shimmering reflection hung from the ceiling amidst streamers and bowers strewn with orchids. Servants, bedecked in their finest livery and laden with trays of sparkling wine, mingled through a crowd composed of pirates, shepherdesses and assorted wild animals, the masks perfectly matched to silk and satin formal attire in every color of the spectrum. Lively music filled the air, while conversation competed for attention within the revelry. Penelope hardly knew where to look first.
“Ridiculous crush, really.”
Phineas tucked her hand into his elbow and snaked them across the room, past a tall couple masquerading as owls, and around the other side where they stood amongst the hundred or so guests in total anonymity. At least for Penelope it remained true as everyone appeared a stranger.
“Here comes Lord Chadling. Harold is a good friend of mine.”
Phin’s deep voice next to her ear shot a thrilling shiver straight down her spine, the excitement of being out in society getting the best of her. There was no other way to explain the odd reaction.
“But how can you recognize your friend so readily? Everyone is disguised.” She looked up into glinting amber eyes. The domino made him look mysterious and intriguing, and his lips…his lips were showcased below the edge of the velvet. Penelope lost all train of thought as she concentrated on his mouth and that wonderful cleft in his chin.
“Easily, actually. No one dresses as well as Harold and the debutantes all know it. See the twittering wave of commotion following as he moves towards us.” Phineas indicated a gentleman to the right only a few steps away. A collection of fluttering females trailed after him.
“Oh, yes.” Penelope smiled. The man appeared a sharp dresser in every way. He wore a rich waistcoat with intricate threaded embroidery and shiny gold buttons. Tight fitted pantaloons led to gleaming top boots while his white lace cravat, tied extravagantly, was pinned with a blood-red ruby. His masquerade domino enhanced the look with its stark black velvet contrasting his fair skin and blond hair.
“Harold.” Phineas nodded his head in greeting before his friend walked by.
“Devil take me, I didn’t know that was you. First the mask and then the lovely lady. You are in disguise tonight, are you not?” Harold stalled mid-step. He assessed the situation with a mocking smile.
“May I present Miss Penelope Rosebery.” Phineas introduced Harold and they exchanged pleasantries followed by Chadling’s prompt request to dance.
She looked to Phineas, all at once unsure.
“Go ahead, my sweet.”
He stared at her intently, an odd look setting his lips in a firm line and confirming the unexpected tone of his reply. Penelope hesitated.
“It will offer you a glimpse of the guests in attendance because it’s so damnably crowded in here, it will be difficult to circulate otherwise.”
Harold did not wait for indication, sweeping her forward to the floor and fluidly into position.
He smiled as they began, a congenial expression, and led her into the motion of the dance.
“You are a pleasant surprise. While Phin is at times most forthcoming, he is also a man who keeps us guessing. Even in the company of his closest friends, he rarely attends social affairs, hardly ever with a guest, and absolutely never wearing a domino. You have worked three miracles in an amazingly short period of time.”
He spoke without missing a step, his voice hinting at amusement and Penelope caught the intent of his words.
“Viscount Fenhurst and I have become unlikely friends. I hope to locate someone here in London and the Countess proposed attending events of the ton to assist in my search. I’m not sure Phineas would be present otherwise. He’s already told me of his aversion to masquerades and the disguise required.”
Dancers swirled around them and they were prohibited from conversation as they neared the musicians’ corner.
“True, Phin is not much for the formality of social functions. He has always enjoyed the fresh air compared to the confining rituals of the ton. I’m sure it vexes his mother as she’s of an opposed nature. Phineas enters an event anticipating when he can effectuate his leave. He’s always gone from social gatherings by the fifth dance of the evening, a shade before midnight. One could set a clock by his withdrawal, yet the way he loves to eat, one would think he’d stay through dinner and dessert.”
Harold grinned as they completed another turn. He was an amazing dancer and with only a half glance at the gentleman’s charming smile, Penny understood why so many females clamored after his attention. “Well I’m hopeful he’ll stay long enough for me to get a look at as many guests as possible, even if they are wearing masks.”
Harold chuckled. “Know the fellow so well you would recognize him regardless, hmm? Well, I’d wager Phin won’t stay much longer. It’s already past eleven. You have been good for him. This may be a new social record.”
“Doesn’t he enjoy gathering with his friends?” Curiosity motivated the inquiry more than anything else.
The music ended and Harold led her from the floor. They’d almost reached the edge of the room when he turned with a disarming smile. “I’ve always assumed Phineas keeps a different kind of friend tucked away somewhere in London and he slips from these functions to go and visit her. It makes sense, considering his mother and her ambitious quest to see him settled.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anabelle-bryant/the-midnight-rake/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.