by Joan Smith
Abbie emitted a gasp of astonishment. As Lord Penfel’s fiery gaze was aimed at her, she felt for a fleeting moment it was herself he meant by the stiff-rumped lady. Their eyes locked in combat, then a slow smile crept across his face. When he spoke, his voice was burred with innuendo. “Lady Susan is not to my taste. If she were a charming artist, it might be quite a different matter.”
Abbie felt the full force of that devastating smile. It was the eyes that were so disarming. They seemed to see through her skull to her mind, to her heart. She was thrown into confusion, and answered gruffly, “I’m sure the Earl of Penfel, Baron Rutcliffe, and quasi-Viscount Worley would be eager to catch such a prize as a penniless schoolmistress.”
His eyebrows rose, giving him a quizzical air. “You are well-informed of my honors!”
“I certainly know more about you now than when I left Miss Slatkin’s, or I would not have agreed to come.”
He refused to acknowledge this set-down. “The redoubtable Miss Fairchild bested by a circus manager? I am disappointed in you, ma’am. I made sure any lady who rode herd on a school of excitable young ladies, their heads full of romance, could tame a whole pride of lions if she set her mind to it. I shall misquote Plato and say, ‘Of all the animals, the young lady is the most unmanageable.’ ”
“I would have to disagree with you, milord. Plato was right. The other sex takes the palm in unmanageability, especially when the gentleman has been reared to think himself accountable to no one.”
The corners of his lips quirked, and his dark eyes stared commandingly into hers. “You are speaking of Mr. O’Leary, of course—if you hope to see those cartoons.”
She managed to reply in a tone of gentle irony that concealed her agitation, but made her meaning perfectly clear. “Of course. About the key—”
Penfel assumed a face of mock chagrin. “Do you know, I cannot seem to find it? It is not on my key ring.” He drew out his heavy key ring and shook it, as if that proved anything. “I have asked Sifton to check his keys, and the housekeeper. No doubt it will turn up soon—” His eyes gazed deeply into hers, “If Miss Fairchild behaves herself.”
Abbie’s nostrils thinned in disgust. It was his petty revenge for her having dared to upbraid him.
She rose stiffly and said in her most severe voice, “Miss Fairchild has only been doing her job. If it amuses you to keep your little treasures horded away from the eyes of those who would appreciate them more than you do yourself, that is your concern.”
He rose and accompanied her to the doorway. With his hand on the knob, he allowed his bold eyes to make a perusal of her high-necked gown. “Well put, ma’am. I have often said the same thing—to prudish ladies.”
As his meaning sunk in, Abbie uttered a little gasp of shock at his gall. “I trust you do not speak in this lascivious manner to the girls,” she said.
His dark eyes gazed unblinkingly into hers, until she felt mesmerized. “In case you have failed to observe it, I am not a boy; I am a man. I am not attracted to girls, but to women—like you.” As he spoke, he put one arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His head came down, and before she knew what he was about, his hot lips had seized hers in a scorching kiss.
It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that she hadn’t time to escape. When she pushed at his shoulders, his other arm went around her and she was locked against him. Her immediate reaction was outrage, tinged with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening! But it was—that rock-hard chest, those strong arms, were all too real. She struggled, then before the embrace degenerated into a wrestling match, he released her. Without thinking of the consequences, she raised her hand and slapped his cheek with all the force she could muster in a confined corner. The echo of it reverberated in the closed room.
He didn’t look shocked, or even offended, but only sheepish. “What, no ‘how dare you?’ ” he said.
“I leave the banalities to you, milord. Now, if you would step aside, I should like to leave.”
For one dreadful moment, she feared he was not going to let her, but after an instant, he stood aside and held the door open. “What did you think would happen to the fly, when she came calling on the spider?” he asked, trying for an air of lightness.
This attempt at levity won him a cool glance as she sailed out the door with her cheeks flaming, and
went to meet her young charges as they came in. She took a moment to collect herself before going to the hall, where she could hear their voices. She was so overwrought she feared the girls would know what had happened. Her hands were trembling, her cheeks were fevered, and her lips felt as if they were on fire.
How dare he do such a thing, treat her like one of those lightskirts at the circus? Yet at the bottom of her heart, there was some tingling satisfaction. He would not have done it if he had not found her attractive. She took three deep breaths and continued on her way.
After greeting her charges, Abbie got Lady Susan
aside and inquired what O’Leary had been saying
to her.
“He asked me if Penfel was not the most beautiful house I had ever seen. I told him I found Wycliffe lovelier, and even Elmgrove superior in certain aspects. He was not aware I was His Grace’s daughter.”
But the wretch was aware of it now, and God only knew what he would do with such dangerous knowledge.
“You don’t want to have anything to do with that man, Lady Susan.”
“No, of course not, but one must be courteous to strangers. We know no ill of him, after all.”
“I have good reason to believe O’Leary is a scoundrel, Lady Susan. I do not want you to speak to him again.”
“He has the definite aroma of a fortune hunter,” she replied. “I thought him brash and too forthcoming by half. When he hinted he would like me to meet him at the fairgrounds this afternoon, I told him ladies did not make assignations with circus managers. He is so determined he did not even take it as a set-down, but smiled and said he looked forward to seeing me again under properly supervised conditions. Quite incorrigible!” But her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes bright with triumph.
He had obviously been plying her with compliments, and this was probably the first time any man had ever done so. Lady Susan may say all the right things, but she was secretly flattered at the handsome rogue’s attentions, as any normal schoolgirl might be.
“We must warn the others,” Abbie said.
“You may be sure I have done so, Miss Fairchild, but do add your cautions to mine. Such an irresistible rogue as O’Leary would have easy pickings of someone like Annabelle. Perhaps a word to Penfel—”
“Speak to him, by all means. He might listen to you.”
“I’ll have a word after luncheon.”
Lady Susan went directly abovestairs to tidy up for luncheon.
Spadger was bustling about from room to room, making sure the young ladies had what they required for their toilettes. When she spotted Abbie, she came rushing forward, her eyes bright with news.
“Might I have a word in private, Miss Fairchild?”
“Certainly, Spadger. Come into my room.”
There was nothing dearer to Spadger’s heart than “a word in private.” It might be a missing glove, a sandwich found in a girl’s room (snacks in the room were forbidden at Miss Slatkin’s as they were a lure to vermin), or the earth-shattering news that Miss Spadger would be half an hour late on the morrow, due to some family emergency.
On this occasion, her news was more weighty. She shoved a journal under Abbie’s nose and said, “Just you have a read of this, Miss Fairchild!”
Abbie read: “Bow Street has been alerted to a string of house robberies that occurred during the past month in Kent and East Sussex. Silver, jewelry, and paintings were taken.” It went on to name the victims and the specific objects that were stolen. It was the last name on the list that made Abbie’s heart leap in her chest.
“Lord Peevey, of Lewes, lost a pair of Van Dycks, silver
place settings for twenty-four, and an emerald ring of fifteen carats, set all around with diamonds, that Lady Peevey had removed and set aside on an end table in the saloon. It is believed the thieves gained entrance to the house in the afternoon while the family and servants were honoring the annual public day at Peevey Castle. The library door had been forced open. No items were removed from the upstairs, where the fabulous Peevey jewelry collection was kept in a safe.
“On each occasion, the O’Leary circus was performing in the vicinity. Last spring a similar series of robberies occurred in and around Birmingham, where a circus was also traveling. On that occasion, it was Brannigan’s Circus. Bow Street is looking into the possibility of a connection between the two circuses. It is believed an employee of Brannigan’s may have moved to O’Leary’s show. Mr. Townsend, of Bow Street, has also suggested that Brannigan and O’Leary might be one and the same man. Bow Street can find no trace of Brannigan, but his physical description matches that of O’Leary. Bow Street is following the case.”
“Lewes, you see! That is near where O’Leary had his last show,” Spadger said.
“Good God! I wager that is where O’Leary latched on to Lord Penfel. He was at Lewes, trying to talk Lady Eleanor into marrying him.”
“And now O’Leary is here, planning to rob the Penfels. You must warn them, milady.”
“This should make Penfel open up his eyes!” Abbie declared, and rushed downstairs with the journal.
The calamitous journal article knocked her earlier visit to Penfel’s study out of her mind. Until she was halfway down the stairs, she didn’t realize that this meant another visit to his study. No, she would not enter this time. She would ask him to step out into the corridor. Indeed, having to face him at all would be embarrassing in the extreme, yet this was too important to ignore. He must be told, and at once.
Chapter Nine
Abbie caught Penfel just as he was leaving his
office. He glanced at the journal she was carrying
and without the necessity of speech, opened the door
to usher her inside.
“I would prefer to talk in some more public place,”
she said coolly.
That sheepish look was back on his face. “Shall we take a spin into the village?” he suggested.
“I meant some more public room here at the Hall, as you very well know.”
“And I know why, too, but you must not expect to be ravished every time you call on me, ma’am. You have had your little treat for today.”
Before she issued the angry retort that was building, he continued in a more serious vein. “I am indeed sorry for my farouche behavior earlier, Miss Fairchild. I promise I shan’t molest you this time. We can go to the saloon, where we will be overheard by half the household, or be semiprivate here, with the door open. Come, don’t be foolish. I am not a hardened rake, I promise you.”
It seemed petty to refuse. One little kiss was hardly sufficient to treat him like a criminal after all. She allowed herself to be ushered in, and took care to see the door was left open.
On his desk sat a journal he had been perusing, opened at an article dealing with the circus story.
“You have seen it!” she said.
“O’Leary brought it to me. He has assured me he is not and never has been Mr. Brannigan.” His wafting hand indicated the chair by his desk. She ignored it.
“You can’t take the word of that scoundrel. That robbery at Lord Peevey’s estate two weeks ago—”
“Because O’Leary happened to be in the vicinity is not to say he is the thief. That is post hoc arguing, ma’am. I expected better logic of a schoolmistress-— and more charity toward mankind than to rush about accusing a man only because he was in a position to do wrong.”
Abbie was doubly distressed—a strike at her mind and her morals seemed like overreacting. “It is what Bow Street says,” she pointed out.
“It is what Bow Street thinks. That unruly pack of scavengers are only after the reward money. O’Leary tells me he hired a juggler from Brannigan’s Circus a few weeks ago. We believe he is the culprit. O’Leary turned him off when he read this.”
“Why did he not turn him over to the constable?”
“Because he had no proof. As you are disturbed, I shall keep an eye on O’Leary. And will you please sit down? Your standing requires that I stand as well.”
“I am only staying a moment,” she said, but she sat down. “I hope your naive trust in mankind does not lead to disappointment. What you ought to keep an eye on is your house. I have no doubt—that is, I suspect he was examining the house for an easy means of entry this morning when he chanced across me in the gallery.”
“My valuable items are insured.”
Abbie regarded Penfel through narrowed eyes.
Charity toward his fellowman, indeed! Penfel was up to all the rigs. A man in his position would not be so naive as he would have her believe. Why was he trying to con her? “I see your trust in mankind has not led you to omit more practical considerations,” she said.
He answered blandly, “The jewelry, the silver, the paintings, the objets d’art, have all been insured since my papa’s time. My man of business tells me I must keep up the payments.”
“That only ensures monetary reimbursement,
however. Some things are irreplaceable,” she said,
thinking of the da Vinci cartoons. “Did you not have
any concern at allowing O’Leary to bring his show
here when you must have known of Lord Peevey’s
loss?”
“Peevey did advise me against it. The fact is, I signed the contract with O’Leary before that robbery. As the deed is done, the best thing is to be quiet about it. No need to frighten your charges. The less talk there is, the more chance Bow Street has of catching the thieves, whoever they may be. I know how young ladies love to chatter. I hope you will not mention it.”
“I am hardly a young lady.”
“Surely, a schoolmistress is a lady!”
She glared. “I meant I am not young.”
“I, being an ancient thirty, take leave to disagree with that, but I know what you meant.”
“Then, why—”
A smile touched the corners of his lips. “You are endeavoring to teach me responsibility. I am trying to teach you not to be so serious—to joke, even flirt a little.”
“I do not consider an unwarranted physical attack flirtation.” She glanced to the door to make sure it had not swung closed.
“It is still open. I haven’t left my chair,” he said. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, we were discussing our harmless little flirtation.”
“If you knew how disinterested I am in setting up a flirtation at this time, you would not speak so foolishly.”
He nodded his understanding in a grave manner, then spoiled it by saying, “What time would be more convenient for you, ma’am?”
“Any time—after I have seen the da Vinci cartoons,” she retaliated.
“At least I am good for something. But how do I hold your interest once you have seen the cartoons?”
“Does your great faith in mankind not include womankind, milord? Just because I will then be in a position to send you to Jericho does not mean I shall do so.”
“It don’t guarantee you won’t. Unfortunately, we have some evidence, your charity does not match my own. I am speaking of your denigration of O’Leary,” he added. “But, as a matter of fact, you are also demmed reluctant to flirt.”
Abbie was not so unnatural as to dislike flirting with a handsome young buck, but their ideas of flirtation were at startling odds. She also felt his timing could hardly be worse. There were serious matters to be discussed.
“Have you never before met a lady who finds you resistible?” she asked grumpily.
“I have met several who said so. A feigned indifference, nay, even annoyance at a gentleman’s advances, is the second most common way of engaging a man’s interest. I have n
ever met a woman who meant it when she glared and lifted her nose in the air. Nor one with such a powerful right hand.” He rubbed his cheek and directed a mock scowl at her.
“Well, there is a first time for everything. And now, if we are through with this pointless conversation, I must return to my charges.”
“Are you not curious to hear ladies’ most favorite manner of engaging a gentleman’s interest?”
“Not particularly, but as you obviously wish to tell me, go ahead. It might be amusing to hear what you think,” she allowed.
“With that passionate encouragement, how can I refuse?” He leaned toward her and said in a conspiratorial manner, as if he were sharing a secret, “Some ladies smile, and endeavor to make themselves agreeable.”
“Do you know, it has been my experience that that is exactly how most gentlemen behave. It is— interesting to meet the exception. Making yourself agreeable is obviously not your strong suit.”
“It is true, we Penfels like a good argument,” he replied, refusing to take umbrage.
“Then, I must compliment you, milord. You have a positive knack for getting what you like.” She rose and turned toward the door.
Penfel followed her. “Let me set your mind at rest with regard to O’Leary, Miss Fairchild. I shall keep my eyes open. I think he is guilty of no more than using shaved cards. I mean to examine the cards closely tonight.”
“You will still play with him, knowing that?”
“I don’t know it, any more than you know he is a thief.” He stood gazing down at her with his hand on the knob of the open door, while his body blocked passage. “Have the girls told you what sort of party they would like? You recall I promised to have a party for them while they are here. Let us make it soon.”
“Tomorrow evening would be fine. They enjoy dancing.”
“And does Miss Fairchild also enjoy dancing?”
“Yes, of course. Who does not? They have been taking lessons for some time now, and are occasionally allowed out to a well-chaperoned party.”
“Miss Fairchild providing the chaperonage?”
