by Cheryl Holt
She was anxious to smooth over their bitter words, so she was stunned when he said, “I think you should depart with her.”
She bristled. “You’re kicking me out too?”
“Let’s not say I’m kicking you out. Let’s just say I need an interval away from you while I digest what’s transpired.”
“Why is any of this my fault?”
“I’m not claiming it’s your fault. I’m simply bewildered by events, and I refuse to be dragged into a quagmire by your two acquaintances.”
“I haven’t caused any trouble. I just crawled into your bed because you’re a randy goat who can’t keep his trousers buttoned.”
“We shouldn’t have rekindled our affair. It was a mistake.”
She was surprised she didn’t slap him. “It’s a little late for you to decide it was a mistake, but it’s what I should have expected from you. Twenty years have passed, but you’re still a pompous ass.”
“I’m sorry.” His cheeks heated, so apparently, he was capable of some shame.
“You don’t look sorry,” she fumed.
She downed her whiskey, slammed the glass on the table, then stood and marched out.
As she reached the door, he said, “Fish!”
She halted and glared over her shoulder. “What?”
“I’ll write you in a few days or . . . or . . . next time I’m in town, we’ll get together.” He forced a smile. “I apologize for upsetting you. Once I calm down, I’ll contact you.”
Could he assume she’d want to hear from him again? After he’d insulted and offended her? After he’d accused her of duplicitous conduct? After he’d threatened Libby and accused her of awful conduct too?
“Don’t put yourself out on my behalf, Lord Roland.” She hurled the comment with an incredible amount of venom. “Should you ever deign to lower your grand self to write me, I will always be too busy to respond.”
She whipped away and continued on, and to her great annoyance, he didn’t call to her again. Nor did he chase her down to stop her from going.
Howard Periwinkle, who pictured himself as the most dedicated of newspaper reporters, lurked in the woods near the gate that led onto Lord Roland’s estate. Previously, after he’d tried to speak with Miss Carstairs, the earl had had a pair of burly footmen run him off. Lord Roland probably assumed he’d fled back to town like a scared rabbit, but he didn’t have to be in London until the next day, so he hadn’t left the area.
Instead, he’d been loafing on the lane to the village and buying people drinks at the local tavern. He’d heard many stories about the party at Roland, and he remained dreadfully curious about Miss Carstairs. Everyone in the kingdom was curious about her, and with it being the twentieth anniversary of her rescue, interest was even higher than usual.
Apparently, at Lady Penny’s request, she’d given the guests a private performance, and he’d have paid a thousand pounds to have seen it. He’d been in the audience in London several times when she’d been on the stage there. She was just so beautiful, and it was thrilling to watch her. He was fascinated and not about to abandon his quest to obtain an interview.
A housemaid was approaching, and it was a girl he’d strolled with twice as she’d completed errands for the housekeeper. She was a lazy, sullen creature who wasn’t very bright. His attention made her feel important, so no effort had been required to befriend her.
She was quite greedy too, and he always slipped a few pennies into her palm when she finished gossiping. He wondered if Millicent Pendleton knew how much she liked to talk about her betters. If her tendencies were ever revealed, he doubted she’d be employed very long.
“Ho, ho, Miss Peggy!” he said, and he waved. “Are you off to the village again? May I accompany you?”
“I’m not walking there this afternoon. I just had to tell you something.”
He removed his hat and placed it over his heart. “You were thinking of me? I’m flattered.”
“If I don’t share this with someone, I might bust from holding it inside. I can’t mention it to any servants at the manor, so I thought of you.”
“My goodness! I’m all ears.”
“You can’t ever admit how you learned of it.”
“I never would. I promise.”
“And you have to swear you’ll protect Lord Roland. He’s a kind man, and I won’t have him hurt by swindlers and frauds.”
“Who would want to hurt him?”
“I can hardly believe it, but it’s that Miss Carstairs. The whole time she stayed with us, she seemed so nice.”
“Libby Carstairs, behaving badly? No! I don’t believe it either.”
“Mostly, it’s that cousin of hers. Mr. Falcon?”
“I know him well,” Periwinkle said. He’d been attempting to confer with Miss Carstairs for weeks and Falcon had been a staunch barrier, preventing it.
“They have cooked up a scheme whereby Miss Carstairs will claim she is Lord Roland’s long-lost daughter, Little Henrietta.”
Periwinkle blanched with astonishment. “She’ll claim she’s Little Henrietta? Oh, oh, oh, this is shocking!”
“Mr. Falcon told her it was a brilliant plan. That was his exact word: brilliant.”
“How did you stumble on this information?”
She hesitated and her cheeks flushed. “I can’t say, but they were very clear.”
Which meant she’d eavesdropped when she shouldn’t have.
“Why tell me about it?” he asked. “I work for a newspaper. There’s no way I’ll keep this a secret.”
“What if they go to the newspapers? I’m convinced they will, and if you have advance warning, you’ll be able to send them packing. You can print that it’s a lie.”
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
The more likely scenario was that she loathed Lord Roland and was anxious to stir trouble for him, while acting as if she was being noble. Periwinkle wouldn’t try to decipher her motives, but he was delightfully glad that he’d curried her favor.
“Now then,” she said, “I have to get back.”
She didn’t head off though, and he realized she was waiting to be paid. He sighed, reached into his pocket, and withdrew his purse. As he slapped the coins into her palm, her avaricious eyes gleamed with glee.
“Thank you for confiding in me,” he said.
“The minute I heard them conspiring, I was sure you’d be eager to know.”
“If you discover any other outrageous tidbits, find me at once. My purse is full, and you’re welcome to empty it.”
She grinned and strutted away. He watched her until she vanished down the lane, then he blew out a heavy breath.
“Little Henrietta,” he mused to the quiet forest. “Home at last. What an exciting tale this will be.”
He didn’t waste any energy debating whether it was true or not. Libby Carstairs had intrigued the nation from the instant she’d been found on that deserted island. And Lord Roland was a tragic figure with whom the whole kingdom had grieved when his mad ex-wife had disappeared with his tiny daughter.
It was the perfect ending for both of them, and he, Howard Periwinkle, would be the man to share it with the world.
“Millicent, will you come in here please?”
She halted, gnashing her teeth, and desperately wondering if she dared to continue on, but it was Charles who had summoned her. She had no idea how to ignore him.
He was in his library, sitting behind the desk where he’d been when they’d quarreled earlier. If she’d suspected he might still be there, she’d have walked down another hall.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“I won’t shout at you from across the room. Come in here!”
She stomped in and pulled up a chair, but she was perched on the edge of her seat, ready to march out at the least provocation
. She glared silently, not inclined to make the conversation easy for him. He was the one consorting with a trollop while they had a house full of impressionable young people. He could spit it out or not. At the moment, she was beyond caring.
After a bit of dithering, he said, “I have asked Miss Carstairs to leave for London, and she’s agreed she would. She’ll depart first thing in the morning.”
“Good. I won’t be sorry to see her go. Will that be all?”
“Miss Fishburn will go with her.”
Millicent wouldn’t touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. “Fine.”
“I’ve instructed Miss Fishburn to speak with her about the rumors she’s keen to spread. Miss Fishburn will advise her that there will be dire consequences if she defames me.”
“I’m certain that will scare the daylights out of her.”
“I think it will too,” he concurred, not noting her sarcasm.
“What about her cousin?” Millicent inquired. “That odious Mr. Falcon? He’s in the thick of their plotting.”
“I’d completely forgotten about him. I suppose he’ll accompany them, won’t he? Why would he tarry at Roland without them?”
“Why indeed?” she caustically seethed. “Perhaps he hasn’t yet stolen any of the silver, and he needs a few more hours to learn where we keep it.”
“Don’t be shrewish. It was difficult for me to be rude to them, and I never like to be discourteous.”
Except to me! she nastily thought. “You’re positive you’ve handled Miss Carstairs appropriately? You’ve successfully crushed their scheme?”
“I’m as sure as I can be without physically gagging her.”
“Well, then, it should work out swimmingly.”
Her mockery was biting, but she couldn’t tamp it down. She was just so angry! After all the years she’d sacrificed for him! After all the years she’d tried to make him happy! Her reward was that he’d allowed himself to be seduced by a seamstress!
At her snide retort, a glimmer of fury flashed in his eyes. They never fought, mostly because he refused to exhibit strident emotion, but they were both grouchy and feeling unfairly harassed.
An uncommon argument might have erupted, but suddenly, Penny rushed in. She dashed over to the desk and fumed, “Father! How could you!”
He sighed with what sounded like exhaustion. “Whatever it is, Penny, I can’t listen to it now. Your aunt and I are having a private discussion. Would you excuse us?”
Of course the spoiled brat ignored him. “You kicked Libby out of the house! I’m so ashamed of you!”
“Penny,” he said, “this entire day has been horrific. Would you cease your nagging? We can chat about it later, when I’m in a better mood.”
“I’ve notified Luke that I won’t marry him,” she blithely announced. “He’s in love with Libby, so there’s no reason to proceed with a betrothal.”
Millicent bristled. “The choice is not up to you, Penny.”
“Stay out of this, Aunt Millicent! This is between me and my father.” Penny turned her livid gaze on Charles. “You kicked Libby out, so I kicked Luke out. We don’t need him here.”
Charles sighed even more heavily. “I wish you’d talked to me first.”
“I talked to you, and you were dismissive of my every complaint.”
Charles’s shoulders sank. “I’m sorry. I should have been more understanding.”
“Don’t you dare beg her pardon!” Millicent sharply said. “She doesn’t get to voice an opinion as to whom she marries. Nor does she get to insult Luke this way. She will not defy you! Not in my presence.” Millicent glared at her niece. “Apologize to your father at once!”
Penny rolled her eyes at Millicent’s command and addressed Charles instead. “Libby told me the news.”
“What news?” Charles asked.
“She’s Little Henrietta.”
Charles and Millicent gasped in unison. Charles was too stunned to respond, but Millicent managed to inquire, “When did she tell you that?”
“Just now. I stopped by her room as she was packing. She’s been lost for over two decades, but she’s finally home where she belongs, and you—Charles Pendleton—kicked her out without wondering if her story might be true.”
“We wondered,” Millicent firmly stated, “and it’s not.”
“Says who?” Penny sneered. “Says you?”
“Your father and I already decided that she’s a liar. It’s why he forced her to leave. We can’t have her strutting about and ruining our lives with gossip and innuendo.”
“It’s not a lie,” Penny insisted.
“Have a care for your father, Penny,” Millicent warned. “Have you any idea what this would do to him? Have you any idea of the circus that would ensue? We won’t be part of it, and you’ve distressed him plenty for one afternoon. Go away and let us finish our discussion.”
Charles seemed to have been struck dumb, and Millicent snapped, “Charles! For pity’s sake, speak up for yourself. Explain to Penny why she’s wrong. We can’t have her disseminating these unfounded rumors.”
Penny was undeterred. “They’re not unfounded.”
Charles shook himself out of his stupor. “Miss Carstairs swore to me she wouldn’t mention this to anyone.”
“She didn’t mention it to just anyone,” Penny said. “She told me! She told her sister, and I’m glad she did.”
Millicent had had enough. “You need to shut your mouth about this. Head to your room and remain there until you’ve calmed down and thought this through.”
“You can’t send me to my bedchamber as if I’m a misbehaved child,” Penny said. “You’re not in charge of me anymore.”
“Charles!” Millicent protested. “Will you allow her to sass me? Do you see what I put up with from her?”
He didn’t answer her, but said to Penny, “I’m very troubled. Could we please not fight?”
“I believe Libby,” was Penny’s reply.
“You shouldn’t,” Millicent scolded. “She’s a fraud, and it’s precisely the reaction she’s hoping to elicit from you.”
“Be silent, Aunt Millicent!” Penny raged, then she said to Charles, “Aren’t you curious, Father, about how you’ll repair this if she’s really Henrietta? She came home, and you evicted her. How will you ever sufficiently apologize?”
She whipped away and stormed out, and they were too astounded to call her back. She was such an obstinate nuisance that she wouldn’t have halted anyway.
Once the tension settled, Millicent smiled a tight smile at Charles. “You certainly have it under control, don’t you? I’m so delighted with how you threatened Miss Carstairs so she obeyed you. You have her trembling in her boots.”
Millicent scoffed with disgust, stood, and stomped out too. He dawdled behind his desk, frozen in place like a bump on a log.
Charles was walking across the foyer, intending to slink to his bedchamber to lick his wounds in private, when he happened to glance out a window. Luke was in the driveway. His horse was saddled, and it was obvious he was leaving.
Charles marched out to him and said, “Penny informed me that she’d ordered you to return to Barrett, but I didn’t imagine you’d listen.”
“It’s not so much that I’ve obliged her,” Luke said, “but I agree with her. My presence is stirring problems.”
“Let’s go inside and talk about it.” Charles was practically begging. “Penny doesn’t get to choose her husband. You and I will come to terms—or not. Don’t slither away simply because she’s being a brat.”
“It’s not that, Charles. She knows about my affair with Libby.”
Charles winced. “She mentioned it to you?”
“Yes. She was very blunt about it, so you and I can’t proceed toward an engagement. We can confer in the future—when she’s not quite so livid and
I’m not quite so distracted.”
“I suppose that’s better,” Charles grudgingly concurred.
“It’s not as if I’m about to run off and wed someone else. At the moment, I just can’t continue on with her. When she’s so irate, it would be too awkward.”
“You’re correct of course.”
“I didn’t mean to sneak away,” Luke said. “I looked for you, to apprise you, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I’ve been hiding. I have a few issues that are plaguing me, and I’m not dealing with them very well.”
“Yes, Libby told me she’s claiming to be Little Henrietta.”
Charles blanched. “Oh, no. Is there anyone she hasn’t told?”
“It’s why I was trying to locate you. I thought you might like to chat about it.” Luke studied his morose expression, then said, “Or maybe not. What are you thinking?”
“I’m not thinking. I’m completely flummoxed. I only learned about it because a housemaid eavesdropped when Libby was conspiring with her cousin. It definitely sounds as if they’re hatching a plot to cheat me out of a ton of money.”
“Mr. Falcon is a dodgy character, but Libby has always seemed very straightforward to me. Despite what nonsense her cousin might pursue, I doubt she’d join in if it was duplicitous.”
“Did you ask her if she was Henrietta?”
“I accused her of lying,” Luke said, “so she’s furious with me. Penny is furious with me too, and I can’t abide this quarreling. I just want to head home so matters can cool.”
“You’re lucky you can escape. I’m stuck here.”
“How about if we meet in a few days and figure out where we are?”
“I’ll stop by next week,” Charles said. “How about that?”
“That’s fine, but in the interim, what about Libby?”
“So far, I’ve misplayed my hand with her. I had Miss Fishburn advise Libby that there would be consequences for spreading a false story about me.”
