Penelope need not have worried. As she sat through Mrs. Bland’s performance and a supper of the famous thin cut Vauxhall ham together with chicken, salad and cheesecake, she began to relax, the fine French Claret certainly instrumental in lightening her mood. As darkness fell, the whole of the gardens had been lit, creating a thrilling and expectant atmosphere. People began to leave their boxes in order to stroll along the promenades and walks before the final firework display, which was due to take place at midnight. Lord Lyndhurst stood up and offered Penelope his arm. ‘Lady Winterbourne, would you care to take a stroll with me around the gardens?’
Penelope looked into his face with stricken eyes and then toward her aunt expecting support. She may be afforded the relaxed freedoms of a married woman, but she did not think it quite the thing to be strolling into quiet sidewalks with a man, who in theory she had just met. Her aunt just waved her arm casually. ‘A marvellous idea, but do remember to return in time for the firework display, my dears.’
Penelope was just about to refuse, when Lord Lyndhurst bent over and whispered in her ear. ‘I must insist Mrs Blackmore.’ Penelope was stunned and went ashen. The two months since she had escaped from her despicable husband had done much to dispel her fears, but the sound of his name in her ear caused a shiver through her spine. She looked at Lord Lyndhurst with suspicion. Was he a friend or a foe? He sensed her hesitation and assured her. ‘Do not worry Lady Winterbourne; I am no friend of the Captain, in fact, quite the opposite I assure you.’
Penelope stood up and gingerly took his arm. It was not until they were on the Grand Walk that she ventured to speak and roundly turned on him. ‘Lord Lyndhurst, what do you, a complete stranger, know about my circumstances? I should have guessed that this invitation was no coincidence.’
They were now standing under the statue of Aurora. He stopped and turned to face her and took her hand. ‘I know everything Lady Winterbourne. I am a friend of Lord Eldon and he has explained the situation to me. He tells me that Captain Blackmore is proving stubborn.’
Penelope relaxed slightly. ‘Do you think that I can free myself of him.’ she inquired hopefully.
He took her upturned face in his hand and rubbed his thumb across her cheek, feeling the softness of her warm skin. ‘If I had my way,’ he replied softly, ‘but these things take time and cannot be hurried. I am sure Lord Eldon is doing his best.’
She wanted him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. She wanted to feel the strength of his arms around her and lean her head on his solid, comforting chest, but she had in theory just met him and it was out of the question. Moreover, goodness knows what he would think of her if he knew she was Mr. Nathanial Penistone. At least she could be thankful that her alter ego had not been discovered. She pulled away; she must be careful and not forget her resolve. He seemed a worthy character of good moral fibre, but she could not afford to be fooled again. To her mind, the whole affair had become a whole lot worse. If he found out about Mr. Penistone, he would probably have a disgust of her and she could not risk exposure.
Lord Lyndhurst again offered her his arm. She reluctantly took it and they continued their stroll. As he turned into the dark overgrown path of the romantic Druid Walk, she stopped short and withdrew her arm. ‘I think we should turn back,’ she said anxiously, ‘the fireworks will be starting shortly.’
He took her hand and returned it to its place. ‘This is the way back,’ he replied smiling. ‘Do you not trust me?’ The fact was she did not trust herself or her ability to resist him, should he show his amorous side. Masquerading as a man, she had witnessed his dealings with men, but she had no experience of his behaviour in female company. For all she knew, he could be the worst kind of predator. ‘I trust no man!’ she returned somewhat briskly, ‘nor will I ever again.’
Lord Lyndhurst, not the least perturbed, patted the hand resting on his arm. ‘Under the circumstance that is hardly surprising, but believe me Lady Winterbourne, I intend you no harm. We are not all the same you know.’
‘Perhaps,’ she conceded, ‘but I regret that with the odd exception, I find most members of my own class censorious and disloyal, male and female alike. They have been tested and found wanting.’ Penelope thought fondly of Nathanial, Hannah and Rosie, the people who had truly proved her friends. Even the wooden Falstaff, her aunt’s butler, had proved loyal, aiding her alter ego to leave and enter Bruton Street unseen. No, her society friends had let her down. She knew who her true friends were. She smiled to herself as she recollected the warm confines of Rosie’s homely kitchen and the colourful characters she had met there and had a sudden longing to return.
Lord Lyndhurst watched her profile as she appeared to relax again. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged, ‘people can be cruel, but rest assured, you can always rely on me as a friend.’
The pair continued their stroll through the dark confines of the Druid Walk. Lord Lyndhurst was not a total paragon and his direction of the Druid Walk had not been entirely coincidental. He had meant to take her firmly into his arms and savour those ripe cherry lips, but he realised that if he did so, he would prove her fears and frighten her away. It would take patience to penetrate the formidable wall that Lady Winterbourne had built around herself and that would take time. He was determined, however, to do it.
*****
The next morning at precisely 10am, Penelope attended her last lesson at Henry Angelos. Her regular tutor had been called away and Angelo had asked the Viscount, George Drysdale if he would like to spar with his new protégé and take him through his paces. The Viscount, although only 24 years of age, was an exceptional swordsman, and one of the few men that Angelo would spar with personally. Not even the proficient Lord Lyndhurst could quite match the exceptional skill of this young man. Except for Angelo himself, the Viscount remained unbeaten.
Lord Drysdale had the reputation of being a rakes hell and was described by some as a lovable rogue. He was a tall and certainly handsome man, being of a strong, solid and rugged appearance. Rumour had it that he had eloped with the Duke of Levisham’s daughter, Lady Olivia Langthorne, but the Duke had ridden out in a rage and hauled them back. It had all been hushed up, but the truth was that the Viscount had been genuinely fond of Lady Olivia and his disappointment had acerbated his wild streak. Unfortunately, for Penelope, he was as astute as he was reckless and Mr. Penistone’s days were numbered.
As Penelope deflected the Viscount’s parries, he began to frown. If it were not for the fact that Mr. Penistone displayed the leanings of a fine swordsman, he could have sworn his opponent was a woman. In his conceited opinion, he did not think that any woman could reach such a standard in such a short time, so initially he dismissed the thought. Mr. Penistone was certainly an effeminate man. He reminded him of Emma Orczy’s character of the Scarlet Pimpernel in her recent popular novel of the French Revolution. That was a novel, however, a fiction of the imagination, and this gentleman was most definitely real.
Lord Drysdale fixed his gaze on Penelope’s face and began to observe her movements, and the more he studied her, the more convinced he became. She was agile in movement, but her sword arm was weak. There was only one way to prove it. He suddenly embarked on a pronounced attack, disarming her sword with an aggressive remiss and held her Corps de Corps against the wall. Penelope gasped at the sudden surprise attack and tried to push him away, but he held her firm with his right knee between her thighs and his chest against her shoulder. Pulling her silken shirt from out of her breeches, he ran his hands up her body, only to discover heavy bindings encasing her breasts. He loosened her cravat and pulled the black ribbon from out of her queue, allowing her shoulder length hair to fall around her face. ‘Well Well Well,’ he grinned. ‘What have we here? A wench! Tolerably pretty too, if it were not for those dreadful warts. But wait.’ He skimmed a finger firmly across the wart on her nose and it came off in his hand. ‘Good Lord,’ he said, ‘now I have seen it all.’
With a pounding heart, Penelope
struggled to free herself, bringing her foot up to kick his shins, but although he grimaced, he held her firm. He was just about to lower his face to kiss her when he felt the tip of cold steel under his chin. He had been too engrossed with amorous intent to witness the entrance of Croxdale. Lord Lyndhurst held his sword to his chin. ‘Let her loose George!’ he commanded.
Lord Drysdale reluctantly released Penelope and Lord Lyndhurst lowered his sword returning it to his scabbard. The Viscount Drysdale sighed regretfully as he released his quarry. ‘Good Lord, Xavier, you always were a spoilsport,’ George said petulantly. ‘If you weren’t a friend and a jolly good sparring partner, I would run you through for your impertinence. I suppose I must forgive you, for where else will I find such a competent opponent.’
‘Jolly decent of you George,’ the Earl replied, ‘but really that is no way to treat a lady.’
Penelope took advantage of her opportunity to slide away from the wall, but Lord Drysdale caught her by the wrist. ‘No so fast, young lady, I have not decided what I am going to do with you yet. You have intruded on a gentleman’s domain and I feel some kind of punishment is in order. What do you think we should do with her Xave?’
‘You will do nothing with her George,’ he replied, ‘and I will escort the lady home. So release her before I get angry and plant you a facer.’
The Viscount only grinned. ‘Oh, get off your high horse Xavier. As far as women are concerned, I was never one to step on another man’s toes. You only had to say she was yours.’
Penelope, by now totally incensed at the tone of the conversation, discussing her as if she was property, saw her opportunity and brought her boot down heavily on Lord Drysdale’s foot. He let go of her wrist, hopping on one foot like a demented pelican. Lord Lyndhurst laughed. ‘You deserved that George, let that be a lesson to you never to underestimate a woman.’
The Earl turned to Penelope. ‘Collect your things together, straighten yourself up and I will escort you home.’
George watched her as she tucked her shirt into her breeches and tied her hair back into the queue. ‘So you know who she is Xave?’ George asked curiously, eyeing her with some admiration, rather reluctant to let such a pretty piece pass through his fingers. ‘I have never known you to fall for a petticoat,’ he added rather ironically, eyeing the breeches.
‘I know who she is, but I am not ready to discuss the matter with you, George. If you want to pursue your passions, I suggest you pay your paramour, Glynis Silverton a visit.’ Lord Lyndhurst took Penelope’s arm and led her to the door. He looked back at the Viscount who was leaning casually on his foil, watching them and grinning in amusement. ‘And do not try to follow us if you know what is good for you, George,’ the Earl warned expressively.
Lord Drysdale called after them. ‘As you wish Xave, but are you returning? I am bored and need a decent workout. Angelo is busy and there is no one else here to test my skills.’
Lord Lyndhurst acknowledged him and agreed to return. Taking Penelope by the elbow, he guided her out of the door and headed in the direction of Bruton Street. Once he had assured himself that the Viscount was not on his trail, he turned his attention to his companion. ‘That was a close shave Lady Winterbourne. It does not pay to mess with Viscount Drysdale.’
‘I see you are on first name terms with the fellow. Fine friends you have,’ she retorted with some spirit.
‘Oh, George is not so bad if you know how to handle him.’ He smiled. ‘The trouble is he can be a bit of a loose cannon and it is not wise to get on the wrong side of him. I think it is time you dispensed with Mr. Penistone and discontinued your lessons. I would not put it past him to come looking for you again and George can be unpredictable.’
Penelope bit her lip in chagrin. ‘How long have you known that I was Mr. Penistone?’ she asked, half with annoyance and half in embarrassment.
‘I have known you were a woman since that first day I met you in York. I was sure after that first night when you pretended to be asleep and I had the chance to observe you closely. I did not connect you to Lady Winterbourne until that day I met you in Birdcage Walk and you denied our acquaintance. I had you followed and discovered the rest.’
‘Oh, you are abominable,’ she retorted with mortification. ‘All last night at Vauxhall Gardens you knew and you said nothing. What are you going to do?’
Lord Lyndhurst raised his dark eyebrows in surprise. ‘Do? Why nothing, Lady Winterbourne, but I beg you to cease this charade. If George could penetrate your disguise there will be others. It is just a matter of time before you are discovered, and as you have found to your cost, society can be cruel.’
Lady Winterbourne realised the brutal truth of these words and reluctantly agreed that she would have to put Mr. Penistone to rest. She only regretted that she could not continue with her lessons. She was frustrated as she had learned a lot in these past four weeks, but despite everything, she could not have warded off the aggressive attack of Lord Drysdale. She was exasperated at the fact and ventured to say so.
‘Do not be disheartened,’ Lord Lyndhurst encouraged. ‘No one but Henry Angelo himself can get past Drysdale’s guard, not even me. Despite his young age, he is considered quite a master of the art. If I were cornered into a duel with the man, I would certainly not choose swords.’
As they reached Bruton Street, Penelope stopped short and turned to face him. ‘You can leave me here,’ she said, ‘I need to slip into the servant’s entrance. Falstaff has left the door open for me. You see, my Aunt knows nothing of my continued masquerade as Mr. Penistone and I prefer to keep it that way. Please promise me that you will not tell her.’
Lord Lyndhurst looked down into her earnest emerald eyes, and if was not for the fact that she was dressed in breeches, he would have bent down and kissed her there and then. The temptation was almost too much to resist, but it would not do to be seen kissing a young man in the middle of Bruton Street. Instead, he reassured her. ‘I promise,’ he replied. ‘I will call on you in the morning and perhaps we can arrange to have some private fencing lessons. I have just the sword for you in my repertoire. I do not use it, so you can have it as a gift with my compliments. Meanwhile, I shall return to George and extract a promise from him to keep his mouth shut. Until tomorrow Lady Winterbourne. I will call at midday.’
*****
After keeping his promise to Viscount Drysdale, Lord Lyndhurst returned home to Bedford Square. He was pleased with himself. He had not quite managed to pink the estimable Viscount, but there again; George had only managed to pink him twice. Both men were tolerably pleased. George, because he had enjoyed a challenging workout with a worthy opponent, and Xavier, because George had only managed to pink him twice. He smiled; one day he would beat George and he did not imagine him to be a good loser. He would probably take a pet or exact some kind of militant revenge. Lord Lyndhurst looked forward to the day.
Despite George’s constant efforts to get his friend to reveal the identity of the Lady he had sparred with, Lord Lyndhurst remained infuriatingly silent on the matter. He had even extracted a promise from George to leave ‘Mr. Penistone’ well alone, should Lady Winterbourne change her mind and don her disguise again. He did not think that she would, but he had the impression that she was quite indomitable and could not be entirely sure.
Lord Lyndhurst’s mood was light. He was beginning to feel that he was penetrating the formidable barriers that Lady Winterbourne had erected around herself, and after a few private fencing lessons, he hoped she would open up and trust him completely.
When he reached home, there was correspondence waiting for him on the hall table. Amongst it was a letter from Lord Eldon. He opened the seal and read it.
Croxdale.
Captain Blackmore has been located. He is staying at the Hare and Hounds in the East End of Sunderland. You must make haste if you are to apprehend him. If we are to succeed in Lady Winterbourne’s divorce case, I cannot stress the importance of his testimony. Be warned, I doubt he will b
e persuaded without coercion. I rely on you to obtain the necessary evidence so that we can proceed.
Lord John Eldon, Justice of the Pleas
Lord Lyndhurst folded the letter and put it in his jacket pocket. On the first hint of an investigation, Captain Blackmore had fled from Charlotte Square and Lord Eldon had ordered a search. At last, he had been found in Sunderland, a town situated on the coast some fourteen miles to the East of Newcastle. It was imperative that they apprehend him, obtain a statement and establish the truth of Lady Winterbourne’s account.
By now, it was late afternoon, but Lord Lyndhurst did not wish to waste a moment. He set his servants in a bustle in order to make him ready and by five o’clock, he was set for the road. The stagecoach to Newcastle usually took five days, but Lord Lyndhurst, travelling in his own conveyance, was able to make it in three.
Having arrived in County Durham, Lord Lyndhurst made for his country estate in Croxdale to wash, brush up and change his clothing. He was tired, but he had grabbed snatches of sleep on the way up from London and so felt equal to the challenge of confronting Captain Blackmore. He instructed his groom to harness up fresh horses for his final leg to Sunderland and was soon on his way again.
It was early evening of the fourth day when Lord Lyndhurst collected the Sunderland magistrate and two constables and they walked into the Hare and Hounds. He reasoned that he would need the magistrate to act as a second witness, and if he could obtain the necessary evidence, the constables would be able to make an arrest. They walked up to the proprietor. ‘We have come to see Captain Francis Blackmore. Can you please tell me which room he is in?’
The Landlord hardly blinked an eyelid. ‘Ah, the Captain. I will get someone to fetch him for you. Who shall I say wants him?’
‘No need,’ Lord Lyndhurst replied. ‘We are friends of his and would like to surprise him.’
The Landlord looked at Lord Lyndhurst and his companions and decided they were respectable. ‘No problem,’ he replied. He nodded toward the staircase. ‘The Captain is in room number one. Go to the top of the landing and turn left.’
Lady Winterbourne's Entanglement: A Romantic Regency Adventure Page 8
