by Cheryl Holt
“You had Miss Fishburn threaten Libby for you?”
Charles huffed with offense. “I didn’t have her threatened! I simply had Miss Fishburn clarify the dangers of slandering a man in my position.”
Luke snorted with amusement. “Libby’s not the kind of girl you could scare easily.”
“I wasn’t trying to scare her!” Charles insisted. “I was trying to reason with her.”
“You can’t reason with a female like her. She’s too independent.”
“You’ve got that right, and Miss Fishburn is even worse.”
“What will you do now?” Luke asked.
“Now I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” Charles cut off his sentence, feeling befuddled and at a loss. “I have no idea what I’ll do, but I can’t have her waltzing around London and spewing these wild tales. Have you any notion of the ruckus it would create? But I haven’t been able to persuade her to be silent.”
“Have you offered her money?” Charles was aghast, and Luke hurriedly explained, “If it’s a blackmail scheme, the sooner you pay her, the sooner it will go away.”
“What if it’s not blackmail, Luke? What if she’s telling the truth?”
They froze, pondering the prospect, then Luke said, “I have no answer to that question, and I’m glad you have to wrestle with it rather than me. Have you noticed though that she and Penny look exactly alike?”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Charles might have stepped away then, to let Luke be on his way, but a rider was trotting up the lane. In his brown suit and bowler hat, he was familiar, but Charles couldn’t recall who he was. As he neared, Charles realized it was the reporter who’d been harassing Libby. He bristled with aggravation.
The cheeky devil pranced directly up to Charles, and he climbed down and tipped his hat.
“Lord Roland,” he said, “I apologize for bothering you again.”
“If you don’t leave at once, I will have my footmen drag you off.”
Luke frowned. “Who is this?”
“He’s a newspaper reporter who is pestering Miss Carstairs.”
“Howard Periwinkle.” The oaf brazenly introduced himself, grinning at Luke as he said, “And you are . . . ?”
Luke ignored him and told Charles, “You don’t have to summon any footmen. I’m happy to drag him off myself. I’ll pummel him first though.”
Periwinkle was undeterred. “There’s no need for violence, sir. I’m off to town this very moment, but before I depart, I just had to seek a comment from Lord Roland. You see, I have it on good authority that a miracle has occurred.”
“What are you talking about?” Charles asked.
“Apparently, Little Henrietta has returned, and lo and behold, she’s England’s darling, Miss Libby Carstairs! Henrietta has been hiding in plain sight as the Mystery Girl of the Caribbean! It’s the most fantastical ending in the world. Who could have fathomed it? You must be overwhelmed with joy. Would you like to provide a few remarks for our readers?”
The insolent idiot had disgorged so many shocking statements that Charles couldn’t decide where to begin in addressing them. Who had tattled? And so quickly too! It had to have been Libby. With the rumors circulating so widely, how would Charles ever tamp them down?
Luke grabbed Periwinkle by his coat and lifted him so they were nose to nose.
“I can’t guess where you received such ludicrous information,” Luke fiercely said, “but Henrietta has not been found, and Miss Carstairs is not Lord Roland’s lost daughter. If you publish one word of such outlandish gossip, Lord Roland will have your newspaper shut down, and you’ll be jailed for the rest of your days.”
“I can’t be jailed for printing the truth!” Periwinkle said.
“It’s not the truth,” Luke countered, “and your bravado only proves that you have no clue as to how much power Lord Roland can wield when he’s really, really angry.”
Luke tossed Periwinkle away, and Periwinkle staggered, almost fell, then straightened. He scooped up his hat and smashed it onto his head.
“All righty then.” He said to Charles, “I take it you have no reply, but if you change your mind and would like to furnish our readers with your side of the story, please contact me.”
He whipped a card out of his coat and offered it to Charles, but Charles glared at it as if it were a venomous snake. Periwinkle dropped it, and it fluttered to the dirt. Then he jumped on his horse and galloped away.
They didn’t stop him, although it had been very tempting to have Luke administer the thrashing he’d been eager to supply.
“What an impudent cretin,” Luke said. “How will you silence him? You can’t permit him to print his lies. Can you imagine the uproar that would ensue? You’d have to hire armed guards to keep the crowds at bay.”
“This is a nightmare!” Charles moaned.
“Shall I chase after him? Shall I beat him bloody? If I knock out some of his teeth, he won’t be quite so keen to torment you.”
Charles tried to picture the repercussions of such a brutal act. Yes, he was an earl and, yes, he was very powerful, but he wasn’t the type to have underlings flogged or beaten. In England, there were laws to prohibit an influential man from inflicting his own brand of punishment.
“I don’t need you to batter him,” Charles said. “I think the better route would be to speak with his boss, so I’ll travel to London immediately. His superiors will be sensible, and I’ll convince them to see reason.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I’ll have my lawyers meet with them. A hefty lawsuit always gets a person’s attention.”
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“No. I can handle one measly reporter on my own.”
“Let me know when you’re back. I’ll be anxious to hear the details, and I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry Libby caused this trouble. I’m sorry I’ve upset Penny.”
“Don’t be sorry. None of it is your fault.” Charles forced a smile. “If I was your age, I’d be in love with Libby too. I believe she’s gone to town. Will you follow her?”
“I’m conflicted about my feelings for her. If she’s tricked you about being Henrietta, I have no idea where that will leave me.”
“I can’t figure out where it leaves me either,” Charles sullenly stated.
They chuckled wearily, then Luke mounted and rode off. Charles watched until he was swallowed up by the trees, then he went inside to find the butler and declare that he was off to London as fast as his carriage could convey him there.
“Where have you been?”
Simon pulled up short and grinned at Penny. They were behind the manor, on a gravel path that led from the barns to the house. The afternoon was waning, the sun drooping in the western sky.
From the frantic tone of her query, it was obvious she was growing overly attached, which he was delighted to observe. At least he assumed he was delighted.
He’d commenced his flirtation as a lark, as a jest. She was rich and pretty, and he’d been sure he could persuade her to give him all sorts of things she shouldn’t. But should he proceed?
He genuinely liked her, and for once, he was suffering qualms. He’d had to absent himself for several hours so he could deduce what he’d like to have happen. If he kept walking down the road he was currently walking, he might wind up married to her. He’d dangled the prospect of an elopement, and she’d been amenable. Could he whisk her away from her family?
He couldn’t predict if Lord Roland would cut ties and disinherit her over such a rash deed, but Simon couldn’t envision her living in reduced circumstances. Was he reckless enough to put her in such jeopardy?
Unfortunately, he thought he might be, but she deserved a different conclusion than the one he would provide.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his grin widening.
“Don’
t be pompous,” she said. “My patience for your vain posturing has vanished.”
He laughed. “Well, excuse me then. What’s wrong?”
“A thousand tragedies have cropped up, and I’ve been searching for you so you could help me sift through them.”
“I took a ride. Your father has the most beautiful animals in his stable. I couldn’t resist.”
“I wish you’d told me you were going,” she said. “I’d have gone with you.”
“I figured you’d be too busy with your guests. Perhaps we can try for tomorrow, but can you really suppose your aunt would let you traipse off with me?”
“I can bring my groom or I can have some friends tag along.”
“If we have to bring chaperones, they’ll suck the fun out of it.”
Dare he be alone with her again? They’d already misbehaved in numerous ways that would get him shot by her father if their antics were discovered, and he was wondering if he shouldn’t yank her off the ledge where she was perched with him. Should he save her from herself?
He couldn’t decide, and the fact that he was questioning his motives was so out of character that he was worried he might be ill.
“Libby headed back to London,” she said without preamble. “Miss Fishburn went with her.”
“What? Why?”
“My father kicked her out. He didn’t like how Lord Barrett was mooning over her. He claimed it was distracting Luke from proposing to me.”
“It probably was. I’ve explained how besotted he is.”
“But also, we’ve learned a shocking secret about Libby, and it will create a huge scandal, which my father hates. He was livid about it, so he sent her away.”
Simon was certain as to what the topic would be, and he debated his reply. Libby had ordered him to remain silent about her sudden insistence that she was Henrietta. Initially, he’d accused her of plotting a swindle, but Libby wouldn’t engage in duplicitous conduct. Simon would, but not Libby.
If she had documents to prove she was Lord Roland’s daughter, then she likely was, but what should his comments about it be to Penny?
“What was the secret?” he tentatively asked.
“Don’t pretend to be confused. She’s my lost sister.” When he didn’t confirm the news, she said, “You can admit it. I was convinced the minute she told me.”
“I didn’t realize she planned to announce it.”
“She didn’t. A housemaid eavesdropped when you were talking to her. People deem you to be a confidence artist who might involve yourself in any nefarious mischief.”
He smirked. “They might be right.”
“So they’re painting her with the same bad brush. They contend she’s hoping to blackmail my father.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“I know that, and you know that, but my father and aunt are in an absolute snit.”
“I can imagine.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her? You concealed it from me, so I’m concerned about the level of your attachment.”
“She only apprised me earlier this afternoon,” Simon said. “After my father died, she found some old letters he’d hidden, and she’s been struggling over how to come forward.”
“You haven’t been deceiving me?”
She studied his eyes, hunting for dishonesty, and he gazed back intently and said, “Of course I haven’t been deceiving you. How could you think I would?”
Apparently, she located the candor for which she’d been searching, for she nodded. “I believe you.”
“You’d better.”
“And I believe Libby, about her being my sister.”
“She wouldn’t lie about it.”
“I can’t fathom why my father doesn’t understand that fact.”
“It has to be a lot for him to absorb. Once he calms down, he might change his mind about it. She’s always wanted to be part of a big family, and it would make me happy to have her settled with you.”
It was the appropriate sentiment to offer, but he wasn’t serious because—if Lord Roland broke down and accepted Libby as his daughter—what would it mean for Simon? If her story was true, then Simon wasn’t really her cousin, but she was very loyal and would never leave him behind.
If Lord Roland relented and embraced her, Simon would constantly rub elbows with the Pendletons. Penny would be wedged into the middle of his life, and with her being willing to have him there, was there any reason to avoid her? Her father would never permit them to wed, so perhaps an elopement was a viable plan.
Her smile turned sly. “Guess what else?”
He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
“I sent Lord Barrett home. I pressed him about his affair with Libby, but the coward wouldn’t even discuss her, so I told him I’m not interested in a betrothal.”
“He left?”
“Yes. I demanded it, so I’m free and available to do whatever I’d like instead.”
He snorted at that. “Not exactly whatever, I don’t suppose.”
“If I choose to encourage the attentions of a younger man who is much more to my liking, I can, and I won’t be branded a flirt.”
“Is there a young man who’s tantalized you?” he cockily inquired.
“You know there is.”
“If we keep on, it has to be a secret. You can’t let your father find out. If he suspected we were growing too close, he’d have me kidnapped and dumped onto the first ship bound for the Orient. I’d never see you again.”
“My dear Simon Falcon, that will never happen.”
“I will pray that you’re correct.”
He stared up at the manor, wondering what was winging in his direction. He felt a terrible perception of peril lurking, as if he’d tiptoed out as far as he dared onto the wobbly cliff where they were hovering, but then, he liked to live dangerously.
“Am I kicked out of Roland too?” he asked. “Was I expected to slither away with Libby and Fish?”
“No one has remembered you. In everyone’s haste to be shed of Libby, no one thought about you at all.”
“I usually hate to be ignored, but for once, maybe I’m glad of it.”
“After supper,” she said, “ I shall have a headache, so I’ll retire to my bedchamber much earlier than normal.”
“You, Penny Pendleton, are such a tease.”
“Will you join me there after it’s safe to sneak in?”
He realized he shouldn’t, that it was mad to agree, that it was stupid to agree, but he was Harry Carstairs’s son. When had he ever behaved in a sane manner?
“Yes, I’ll join you.”
He dipped down and stole a quick kiss. He shouldn’t have, but the garden was empty, so there were no observers. She grinned, winked, then whipped away and sauntered into the house. He stood in his spot until she disappeared, then he followed after a bit so it wouldn’t seem as if they’d entered together.
If he’d had any sense—and he’d always possessed very little of it—he’d proceed to town, even though night was falling. He’d catch up to Libby and Fish and escort them the rest of the way.
But evidently, he wasn’t departing Roland just yet. He still had business to conduct with Penny, and until he’d had his fill, he wasn’t about to flee.
Millicent paced in her bedchamber, and her temper was on a slow boil.
Charles had derided her warnings about the scandal that was brewing. He’d trusted Libby Carstairs not to spread her falsehoods about being Henrietta, but the instant his meeting with her had ended, she’d started shouting the lie in every direction.
Penny had heard it. Luke had heard it. A London newspaper reporter had heard it and had already accosted Charles.
The housemaid, Peggy, knew it too, and Millicent was no fool. The tidbit about Henrietta would be too delicious for Peggy to
resist. Before supper was over, she’d be whispering it to the staff.
Charles had trotted off to London on a mission to thwart Miss Carstairs. His strategy was to bully and sue anyone who refused to be silent about her story, so Millicent had no idea when he’d be back.
Miss Fishburn was in town now too, thanks to Charles insisting she slink off with Miss Carstairs. He loathed London and never went there if he didn’t have to, so Millicent couldn’t help but fear that Miss Fishburn was a hefty portion of the reason he’d been so eager to rush to the city.
Charles, Penny, and Penny’s brother, Warwick, were Millicent’s family. She’d abandoned her own for them. She’d given her life to them, and for her efforts, she was ignored by Warwick, scorned by Penny, and disregarded by Charles. He’d rather carry on with a trollop than make a moral commitment to Millicent.
She had to reestablish her position in the family. She had to remind them that she was a valued member, and they were lucky she was so loyal and faithful, but how could she rekindle their esteem?
Clearly, Charles had no ability to deal effectively with Miss Carstairs. He’d blatantly threatened her, but she wasn’t afraid of him, apparently recognizing that he would never be genuinely cruel.
Well, Millicent never worried about being too cruel. Nor did she worry much about how others viewed her. She was perfectly willing to force Miss Carstairs to respect Charles as she ought. In the process, she was positive she could get Miss Fishburn’s attention too.
The wicked slattern had waltzed into Millicent’s home and assumed she could latch onto Charles, but Charles belonged to Millicent, and she wouldn’t blithely surrender what was hers.
What would be best? What course of action would inflict the most damage on both women?
Her mind racing with possibilities, she wandered to the window and stared down into the garden. It was a beautiful summer day, and the vista always soothed her.
Penny was there, dawdling on the path, and to Millicent’s great aggravation, Simon Falcon was there too. Charles had rid them of Miss Carstairs, but he’d forgotten to ensure Mr. Falcon left too.
Even from the far distance of Millicent’s bedroom, it was obvious the pair was much friendlier than they should be and that Penny was encouraging him. Was she insane?
