by Cheryl Holt
“I found a window that wasn’t latched. Your servants should be more careful.”
“Your reply has me worrying that you possess criminal tendencies.”
“I absolutely have them. My father, Harry, taught me all his best—or worst—habits, depending on your viewpoint. I can pick a lock or pick a pocket or swindle an unsuspecting dunce out of his money. If shady conduct is required, I’m the fellow for the job.”
He was perched on the edge of the mattress, and she pulled him down so he was stretched out beside her. He kissed her fiercely, and as he drew away, they both sighed.
“You’ve been gone for ages,” she said. “What have you been doing?”
“First, I went to London to bail Libby and Fish out of jail, only to learn that no bail was being allowed.”
“Who ordered that?”
“Originally, we assumed it was your father, but it turned out to be your aunt.”
“You won’t believe what happened to her.”
“Ooh, I hope it was horrid. Is there a torturer’s rack in the basement?”
“By her standards, it was just that bad. Father kicked her out of Roland and sent her to live with her brother.”
He grinned and facetiously asked, “Are you missing her?”
“Don’t be daft. I never liked her, and I’m so glad to be shed of her.” She snuggled nearer and asked, “What else have you been doing?”
While he’d been gamboling in the city, she’d been awash with jealousy. She’d spent every minute contemplating the beautiful girls who might have crossed his path when he was away from her. He’d thrown himself at her until she’d caught him, and now, he was hers. What, precisely, was she supposed to do with him?
“After I discovered no bail could be posted,” he said, “I raced to the country and enlisted Lord Barrett to help me free them.”
“Tell me he pitched in or I’ll be so aggravated.”
“Yes, he helped me, and he was quite majestic about it too. Libby and Fish are at our London house and recuperating from their ordeal. Libby wasn’t grateful for his assistance though. I guess, when she told him about her being Henrietta, he called her a liar.”
“The dolt!” she fumed.
“She’s vexed with him, so I’m not sure if they’re still having an affair or not. If they’ve split apart, it would mean your father could start pushing you about becoming engaged to him.”
“He never could. Even if she spurns Luke for all eternity, I don’t want him.”
“Are you certain?”
“I have other ideas about my future.”
“What are they?”
The question hung in the air between them, and as she studied his handsome face, she wondered if she hadn’t gone mad. She’d had years to ponder the sort of man she yearned to wed, yet the crop of available aristocratic boys was a shallow pool. She craved an amazing husband, and she’d never met anyone more amazing than Simon Falcon.
Then again, she’d had scant experience with amour. Luke had been the sole candidate her father had presented, so she hadn’t been able to make many comparisons. It was such an important decision, which was why a girl’s father selected her husband, but she’d let him handle it, and he’d chosen distracted, aloof, much older Lucas Watson.
Luke had been all wrong for her, so her father couldn’t be counted on to settle on a candidate she’d agree to have. Dare she forge ahead on her own?
Her father’s wild proclivities were flowing in her veins. Was this how he’d felt about his wife, Amanda, when he’d eloped with her? Had he felt—if he couldn’t have Amanda—his life might not have been worth living?
His marriage to her had been a disaster, but he’d survived, and he’d relentlessly repented his error. If Penny staggered forward into reckless conduct, she’d only be doing what her father had done, so he could hardly condemn her for it. And if it collapsed later on, he’d welcome her back; she was convinced of it.
But she refused to think it would end in catastrophe. She would bluster into it, assuming it would be perfect.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, and suddenly, he looked much too serious. “Let’s sit up, shall we? When I explain this to you, I should be standing on my feet.”
He slid off the bed, and he drew her up to rest against the pillow, then he went to the window and stared outside. It was a cloudy night, but the moon was up, so it wasn’t completely dark.
He appeared as if he was about to confide a terrible secret. Or perhaps he was leaving her. If she’d been a trembling ninny, her heart might have been pounding, but she wasn’t concerned about any issue he might raise. She was in control of the entire situation.
“Well?” she said when he couldn’t begin. “You’re obviously distressed. What’s bothering you?”
He whipped around and admitted, “I seduced you with wicked motives.”
“I know that. I’m an heiress, and I’ve ceaselessly been cautioned about scoundrels like you. I hadn’t imagined for a single minute that you had pure motives.”
“I was planning to persuade you to elope to Scotland with me. I would have slyly suggested you bring some money to pay for our trip, then—when you weren’t watching—I would have stolen it and vanished.”
She smirked, not surprised that he’d planned it, but surprised he’d confessed it. “Would you have left me enough to get home to Roland?”
He bristled with offense. “Of course I would have. I’m not an animal.”
She chuckled, finding him to be absurd and marvelous. “So now what? You said you were thinking of behaving badly. What are you thinking instead?”
“I’m thinking we have to part. I intend to climb out the window, jump on my horse, and ride to London.”
“I’ll never see you again?”
“I have to save you from yourself. I’ve toyed with your emotions, but I’m good at toying with a woman’s emotions. It’s another trick my father taught me, but with you, I’m sorry I enticed you. I like you so much, and I shouldn’t have been hideous to you.”
“Have you developed a moral conscience?”
“I guess I have.”
“Am I supposed to simply bid you farewell, then it will be over between us?”
“Yes.”
She pretended to mull the notion, then she frowned. “There’s a problem with your decision, and it’s this: You can’t treat me like a child. It’s what drives me insane in my dealings with my father. I’m an adult. Not a baby. I am fully capable of making up my own mind. I don’t need you to make it up for me.”
“I realize that, but you haven’t considered the ramifications of shackling yourself to me. I’m a petty criminal! I have no funds of my own, and my only skills are those best performed under a circus tent. I rely on Libby to support me.” He threw up his hands. “That’s how useless I am! I have to be supported by a woman! How could I provide for you?”
“You’re forgetting one important detail.”
“What is it?”
“You may be poor, but I am very, very rich.”
“If you run off with me, your father will never offer us your dowry. You’re deranged if you presume he will.”
“He’ll give us some of it. He would never allow me to be imperiled because of my relationship with you.”
“What if you’re wrong? What then?”
“Then . . . ah . . . I figure we’ll move in with Libby, and she’ll have to support you and me. Fish will have to teach me how to sew, so I can earn my keep by stitching Libby’s fantastic apparel.”
“You’re not thinking clearly, Penny. If you allied yourself with me, you’d regret it forever. Not at first. At first, it would seem like a lark, but when times were tough, after we were struggling financially, and we fought about it constantly, you’d grow to hate me. We shouldn’t walk down that road.”
&
nbsp; “How long have you been reflecting on your change of heart?”
“All the way from town. I didn’t expect to be noble. I was ready to beg you to elope with me. I brought a horse for you and everything, but the farther I traveled from London, the more I recognized you can’t ruin yourself over me.”
“That is the prettiest speech I’ve ever heard, but you’re being ridiculous.” She tossed off the covers and stepped to the floor. She was attired in just her nightgown, her hair down and brushed out, and at abandoning her warm bed, she shivered. “Am I correct that you have two horses tied out in the woods? Am I correct that you were planning to convince me to ride to Scotland this very night?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Then give me a minute to get dressed. We’ll depart at once.”
“Penny, would you stop it? Please?”
“I’m about to roll the dice and take a chance on you.” She waltzed over and kissed him on the mouth. “Don’t you dare disappointment me in the end.”
“I’ve disappointed people my whole life, so you oughtn’t to risk it.”
“You’re turning over a new leaf with me.”
“What if this winds up being as horrid as I’ve painted it?”
“I’ll declare myself sick of you and come home to my wealthy, wonderful father who will welcome me back without saying, I told you so. But why are you so certain it will be dreadful? Here at the beginning, can’t you at least attempt to picture it as being grand? It’s what I intend to do.”
She whirled away and headed for her dressing room. He followed her, watching with elevated interest as she lit a candle and riffled through her clothes. What, exactly, should a girl wear when she was eloping? She supposed dark-colored and comfortable were best. She grabbed a black gown, sewn from a soft wool, and held it out to him.
“You’ll have to help me with the buttons,” she said.
He gaped at the garment, but didn’t reach for it. “Are we really proceeding? After what I confessed, you still want to?”
“For pity’s sake, Simon, don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m determined to have you for my very own.”
Finally, he grinned his devil’s grin. “I might actually enjoy this.”
“You’d better, and before we leave, I have to set one rule for you. You have to agree to it. The terms are nonnegotiable.”
“I’m awful at playing by the rules, so don’t pick one that would make it hard for me to comply.”
“It’s just this: While we’re together, you can’t have any other women. None! I’m afraid I have to put my foot down about it. If you decide in the future that you wish to stray, tell me in advance, and we’ll part without a fuss. But so long as you’re with me, you’re mine. I’m possessive that way, and I won’t share you.”
He bowed with a flourish. “Lady Penny, I am all yours. Let me help you with those buttons.”
Fish sat in the parlor of their London house. It was late in the afternoon, the street finally quiet, the crowd out front having called it a day and headed off to their suppers.
People had always been fascinated by Libby, but now, with her being Little Henrietta too, interest had spiked to an even higher level. Libby had been besieged by admirers and newspaper reporters, but also by various charlatans who were anxious to glom onto her with spurious intentions. They were claiming prior friendships or prior business dealings where she owed them money.
She couldn’t step outside without being hounded to death, but she’d been feeling claustrophobic, so she’d risked jumping into her carriage to run some errands.
As she’d departed, the most devoted of her retinue had chased after her, particularly the reporters who were cataloguing her every move for their readers. Once she’d left, the other stragglers had gradually left too. With Libby gone, what was the fun of dawdling?
Fish wondered how long the chaos would continue, and she hoped some other, more delicious scandal would erupt. She’d like focus to shift to some other unlucky woman.
A knock sounded on the front door, but she ignored it. She was relishing the chance to be alone with her thoughts. She’d been sucked into Charles’s life and bed, but their affair had ended abruptly, and with it over, she couldn’t figure out how to proceed.
For most of a decade, she’d trailed after Libby, designing her clothes, dressing her, and advising her when she needed shrewd counsel. It had been a stable, enjoyable existence, but she was chafing, bored, and dissatisfied with her choices.
Why hadn’t she made better ones? She could have wed several handsome rogues over the years. Why hadn’t she?
She could have had a home of her own and a few children to keep her company in her old age. Instead, she’d rejected all suitors, and she’d picked Libby and Simon to fill the role of the children she’d never birthed. What if they weren’t enough?
Her world—of sewing, theatres, and actors—suddenly seemed small and pointless. The perception wasn’t true, and she had to quit thinking so negatively, but her low mood was causing her to question everything.
She wished she could climb onto a ship and sail to a tropical island. She’d wallow in the sun and rearrange her attitude. She’d start over as a different, more intriguing female.
The knock sounded again, but no one rushed to answer it. They had three servants, but they were having tea in the kitchen at the rear of the house, so they wouldn’t have heard the summons. When their visitor—likely a reporter—knocked a third time, indicating he was very determined, her temper sparked.
She went over and yanked the door open, ready to vent her pique at the stupid idiot who’d dared to bother her, but when she saw who’d arrived, she froze.
“Hello, Fish,” Charles said.
“Charles.”
There was an awkward pause where they studied each other, struggling to deduce what their next comment should be, and Charles broke the silence.
“I thought we should talk. May I come in?”
She’d planned to deny him entrance, but her tongue seized control of her mouth, and she said, “I suppose.”
He strolled in, but didn’t bluster or strut, and she realized he’d been reduced somehow, as if much of his haughty aplomb had leaked away when he wasn’t paying attention.
He looked a tad lost, as if he didn’t remember how to sit down, and she waved him to a sofa. He was nearly relieved that she’d provided instructions, and he staggered over to it and flopped down.
“I was about to have a whiskey,” she said. “Will you join me?”
“Yes, an alcoholic beverage would be perfect.”
She poured two glasses, handed him one, then moved to the chair across. There was a table between them that would serve as a barrier. She couldn’t imagine why he’d blundered in, and she wasn’t about to make it easy on him. She simply stared, waiting for him to speak up or leave.
“How have you been?” he ultimately asked.
“Fine.”
“And how is Libby?”
“Fine too.”
“Is she here?”
“She’s out running errands.”
Her tone was overly surly, but she couldn’t help it. He’d kicked her out of his home, as if she were a scullery maid who’d been lifting her skirt for a penny. It had been a malicious act that she suspected would always sting.
“I hope your ordeal with her wasn’t too awful,” he said. “Lord Barrett told me it wasn’t. He insisted you’d muddled through with no difficulty.”
“Yes, Charles, jail is just fun and games.”
His cheeks flushed with shame. “I know you assumed I signed the papers to have you arrested, but it wasn’t me.”
“We were informed that it was your sister-in-law.”
“I’m stunned that she implemented such a wicked scheme. I would never have expected it from her.”
“You
’re gullible about women, so I believe you.”
At least she thought she believed him. He wasn’t generally a cruel person, but so what if he hadn’t signed the papers himself? He’d still evicted her—as if she’d been too disreputable to tarry. She was so embarrassed she might never fully recover.
“I didn’t end things very well with you,” he said.
“I beg to disagree. From my perspective, you were quite thorough.”
He snorted with disgust. “I deserve that, I guess.”
They stared again, and she couldn’t bear it. She asked, “Why are you here, Charles? What is it you want? Forgiveness? All right. You’re forgiven, so your mission is accomplished. You can go.”
He scowled. “Would you stop being such a shrew?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how to act in this sort of situation.”
“Neither am I, but I’m trying. Could you try a bit too?”
“I’ll rein in my temper, but clarify your purpose so we can get it over with.”
He sighed heavily, as if she wasn’t behaving correctly. Was she about to be scolded for an infraction? If he dared, she’d escort him to the door.
“Tell me about Simon Falcon,” he said.
She was taken aback by the query and instantly on guard. Simon had vanished days earlier, and they weren’t certain where he was or what he might be doing. He might have perpetrated any insane deed, and she braced for the worst.
“Why are you curious about Simon?” she asked.
“Would you describe him as a fortune hunter?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Has he had any schooling? Has he any antecedents worth mentioning? Has he any prospects? Or is Libby his sole support? I’m anxious to receive details about his character.”
“Why?”
“He’s eloped to Scotland with Penny.”
Fish’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”
“I’m not joking.”
“Of all the stupid, preposterous, outlandish . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. There weren’t enough words to define how shocking it was.
“Will he marry her? Or will he simply ruin her, then abandon her at a coaching inn along the road?”
