Her mind kept wandering back to her time with Lord Harry and that scandalous kiss he’d given her. Oh, but that was a stroke of genius, too. She hoped the heat that was rising to her cheeks at the memory of it did not show. Aiming for distraction, she studied a rather tidy pair of gloves and wondered if they would go with the new gown she was having made. It was not quite enough of a distraction to get her mind back on the conversation at hand, but she nodded and made sounds of encouragement for Maria to continue.
“Aunt Clara is certain that you are quite the fallen woman and I will come to no good if I continue to devote my time to you,” Maria said. “She was quite against my accompanying you today.”
This managed to catch Penelope’s attention. “What? Your aunt did not wish you to come out with me today?”
“Can you truly blame her, with everything people are saying about you and Lord Harry?”
“Surely you know rumor is only ever half true.”
“Indeed, but even at that you would still be guilty of quite a bit, Penelope. Truly, aren’t you the least bit concerned?”
“Of course not. I told you, Lord Harry understands completely that this is merely a sham.”
“It doesn’t sound as if he understands that at all, taking such liberties with you as he has.”
“We have to be convincing, Maria. Anthony simply must believe Lord Harry is a bad influence on me, but at the same time he must also believe I truly wish to marry him. It’s all there is to it if he is to believe there’s no recourse but to send me away.”
“It would seem you are leaving him no recourse but to rush you to the altar. Honestly, Penelope, did you really let that man kiss you in public, in full view of everyone?”
“I did.”
Maria shook her head. “Well, I suppose I must give you high marks for bravery. Still, some of the bravest souls are the ones who perished for their cause.”
“And now you are being dramatic. I promise, I have no desire to perish for my cause.”
“It’s not exactly your desire I worry about,” Maria said with a sigh. “I’m worried your new friend might be approaching this arrangement more for his own benefit than for yours.”
“Of course he’ll benefit. He’s building goodwill with his uncle.”
“That isn’t the sort of benefit I was referencing, and you know it. Besides, how on earth can his stuffy old uncle feel any goodwill toward him if all he hears is how shamefully the two of you have been behaving? Is it true your so-called fiancé referred to Lady Whorton as, er, a cow?”
“Certainly not! He inferred the woman is a draft horse. That is something entirely different.”
Maria cringed. “Oh, Penelope. I cannot see how this will possibly turn out for good.”
“That is because you have no vision. If you would simply trust that Lord Harry is…”
She didn’t finish her statement. For one reason, she realized she simply did not know enough of Lord Harry’s good qualities to adequately defend him. Considering Maria’s position on the matter, Penelope doubted a recounting of the man’s skill at doling out insults or using his tongue for other more pleasurable pursuits would do much to win him any favor.
Secondly, she could not finish her statement because she realized the two of them were no longer alone at the shop window where they had paused. A tall, elegantly dressed gentleman with an exquisite woman on his arm was approaching them. Noticing the way his gaze digested Penelope’s person and the too-friendly smirk on his face, it seemed safe to assume he was not here to gawk at silk-covered fans.
She had no idea at all who this gentleman was, but she did immediately recognize the woman. An actress. She recognized her from the theater. She’d heard a few things about her, too.
It was shocking enough that these persons were blatantly staring at her this way, but then the man had the audacity to speak.
“But I do believe this is Miss Rastmoor. Good day to you, miss. My warmest wishes on your upcoming nuptials,” the man said.
Penelope frowned at him. His tone was warm enough, but she could not at all condone him approaching her this way and speaking to her as if they were, in fact, acquainted. They were not. Nor did she wish to be.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, making her voice just as cold as she possibly could. “I’m afraid we’ve not been introduced. Should I know you?”
She decided the sound he made could very well be called sniggering.
“You should,” he said. “But since I truly doubt Harris has wasted much of his time with you talking about me, I suppose I’ll have to simply introduce myself. I am Ferrel Chesterton, cousin to your dearest intended.”
His cousin, was he? No, Lord Harry had not mentioned him. Not that he would have had any reason. Since they were not truly to be married, it was rather unnecessary to discuss each other’s connections. And this particular connection, at least, did not appear at all to be the sort of person she’d like to discuss, let alone become acquainted with.
Maria seemed to feel the same way. Already concerned over Penelope’s proximity to scandal, the arrival of this gentleman caused her to blush noticeably. The way the man’s gaze shifted from Penelope to Maria, it seemed he was looking for an introduction there, as well. She did not give him one.
So, he proceeded to announce his companion. “And this is the lovely Mrs. Gladding,” he said, presenting the woman as if it were the most proper thing to do.
The woman actually held out her hand to Penelope. Well, this was beyond the pale. Was she honestly expected to take it? To be seen here on the street greeting a married actress who was strolling about with a gentleman who was clearly not Mr. Gladding? Good heavens, but this would create even more gossip than her carriage ride with Lord Harry.
She glanced quickly at Maria, but the poor girl seemed too shocked by all of it to even so much as look in her direction. Indeed, Maria appeared rather ill. Oh bother, that was all she needed just now; to have her friend toss up lunch all over Mrs. Gladding’s fine footwear.
Hoping to at least distract from that, should it happen, she reluctantly took the actress’s hand and smiled at her. “How unexpected to meet you, Mrs. Gladding. I’ve seen you on stage.”
The woman actually appeared flattered. “Thank you, Miss Rastmoor. And please do give my regards to your sister-in-law. She and I worked together on occasion several years ago.”
Penelope nodded. Indeed, if Mrs. Gladding had worked with Julia it must have been quite some time past. Julia left the stage five years ago when she and Anthony married. Still, though her own brother had seen fit to marry an actress, surely Anthony could not approve of Penelope being introduced to one on a street corner. And since this awkward encounter was directly a result of her connection to Lord Harry, it stood to reason this might be yet another reason for Anthony to send her off to Egypt. Perhaps befriending an uncouth gentleman and his actress friend would not be such a bad thing, after all.
“I was quite surprised to hear my cousin had at last found himself a worthy bride,” Mr. Chesterton said. “But upon meeting you, I see I should not have been surprised at all. How could Harris possibly not become slave to such beauty?”
Ugh, and how could she possibly not become nauseated by such obvious flattery? Indeed, Mr. Chesterton—though he was certainly handsome enough—was not very much to her liking. He was far too friendly, and far too eager to gawk at Maria, who seemed even less impressed with the gentleman than she was. Lord Harry’s relatives certainly had much to be desired if this man’s manners were any indication of the rest of the clan.
“I would like to think Lord Harry is very much a willing participant and not some sort of slave to anything, sir,” Penelope said sharply.
“Oh, I’m certain willingness is the least of his troubles, Miss Rastmoor. I can’t wait to see him again and congratulate his good fortune. I know all too well how difficult it is to secure a good wife.”
“Unless, of course, you don’t mind securing someone else’s,” Penelope
said, smiling sweetly at Mrs. Gladding.
Mr. Chesterton frowned, but then Mrs. Gladding laughed.
“Mr. Chesterton is most kind to help me with an errand for Mr. Gladding,” the woman said with far too much sparkle for it to be believable. “I have had a new coat made for him as a surprise, and as Mr. Gladding is very nearly identical in size to Mr. Chesterton, I’ve prevailed upon Mr. Chesterton to come for a fitting.”
Oh certainly. As if anyone could believe that silly tale.
But Mr. Chesterton seemed to think they likely would. He nodded his head briskly.
“That is indeed what I am here for today,” he chirped. “The Gladdings have been friends of mine for years. Naturally I’m only too eager to help with this surprise.”
“Of course you are,” Penelope said with just as much sparkle as Mrs. Gladding. “How very kind of you. Don’t you think, Maria? Isn’t Mr. Chesterton the very picture of kindness?”
“It would seem so,” Maria said. Her expression would seem to indicate she felt exactly the opposite.
Before Penelope had opportunity to find out any more about this Mr. Chesterton and his married companion, they were interrupted again. This time by Maria’s own Aunt Clara. Aunt Clara appeared even less happy to see Mr. Chesterton than Penelope had been.
“Maria! Come away right now!” the woman said, appearing at their side with her maid bearing a healthy assortment of parcels.
Maria complied instantly and Penelope did, too. For some reason this seemed to surprise Aunt Clara.
“Oh. Well, Miss Rastmoor, I suppose as we did bring you here, we ought to convey you home. Hurry along, please.”
Aunt Clara did not give one minute’s hesitation but turned on her heel and marched toward their waiting carriage. Maria and the maid scurried after her. Penelope could only nod weakly toward their new acquaintances, then bustle after her companions. It was a most uncomfortable meeting that ended with an even more uncomfortable exit.
Penelope followed Maria up into the carriage, and little was said between the ladies. Aunt Clara stared fixedly beyond them, and Maria stared at her hands folded in her lap. So much for pleasant conversation. Penelope stared out the window and wondered just what exactly had happened in the space between her engagement yesterday and this unhappy moment. Had her scandalous day in the park truly been enough even to offend her closest friends?
And why on earth should Mr. Chesterton think he had any right to approach her that way on the street? With a known actress by his side, of all things? Granted, Penelope had actors in her own family thanks to Anthony, but that was different.
Certainly when Penelope saw Lord Harry again she would tell him exactly what she thought of his overly forward cousin. That is, if she were to actually see Lord Harry again. It dawned on her he had said nothing of it, made no arrangements for meeting her anywhere or taking her driving again. Perhaps their little jaunt yesterday had been all he felt was needed to establish the situation. Heavens, but she supposed he could very well think just such a thing.
He’d done more than his part to make them appear a couple. He’d smiled, laughed, and doted on her as a real suitor. Also, he’d done more than his part to make himself appear horrid, just as they planned. He’d driven an embarrassingly shabby cart, he’d insulted one of society’s prime matrons, and…well, he’d kissed her before God and all the world.
He’d kissed her nearly senseless, as a matter of fact. And she’d let him. Yes indeed, she could certainly see that he might feel he had done enough. Certainly society seemed to agree.
Perhaps Penelope had gone just a bit too far, after all. In her efforts to manipulate Anthony, she’d forgotten to worry for the rest of the world. Clearly society’s attitude toward her was going to be altered by all this. Drat. Now she would have to concoct a solution for that, as well. It was most exhausting to have to be in charge of so very many schemes.
Perhaps Lord Harry could help her decide what needed to be done. Yes, he was quite clever. He would know how to advise. She certainly did not wish to jeopardize Anthony’s poor impression of him, but certainly Lord Harry could think of some way to make their betrothal just a bit more acceptable to the rest of the town. She would ask him the next time she…
Oh. But that was right—she had no idea when there would be a next time. That thought was less than pleasant, in fact. Drat it all.
She stared out the window and thought the day suddenly even more dismal than it had been. Clearly Maria was upset, Aunt Clara was fuming, and now Penelope had become someone whom strange men and disreputable women thought they could glibly approach on a public street. Worse, she realized she was quite distraught at the possibility of never seeing Lord Harry again. Indeed, this was turning out to be a most disagreeable day for her.
And it got worse. As they passed by, her eye fell on a familiar cart waiting at the side of the street. For one split second her mood lightened and she scanned the nearby walkway for Lord Harry. Any lightness went away the moment she found him.
He was there, indeed, quite near his pitiful cart, looking just as dashing and enticing as he had yesterday. But she appeared not to be the only one who noticed this about him. Lord Harry, she noted, was not alone.
A young woman was there; a small, curvy, giggling creature who had her hand on his arm and flashed doe eyes at him as he led her toward his cart. Oh, but it was disgusting the way he smiled at her and fawned over her so. She’d been carrying a large parcel, but he took it from her and added it to the one he already carried under his arm. Indeed, it appeared he’d been rather generous in his purchases for the girl.
Well, that was odd, considering he’d told her his uncle left him with rather empty pockets. How nice that he’d managed to scrape together a few pennies for this dear girl. Oh, but Penelope could have nearly flown right out of Maria’s aunt’s carriage to wipe the smile off the young woman’s sweet face and remind Lord Harry that he had a fiancée now and could no longer dash about with giggling women on his arm. Nor was he to buy them things, even if they were things from Mr. Tilly’s Grand Notions, where she and Maria had spent a good five minutes laughing earlier at the most hideous shawl ever.
No, a man with a perfectly good fiancée like Penelope should certainly not do that. Except that Penelope was not really his fiancée. Drat, but it had never dawned on Penelope that Lord Harry might indeed already have some particular lady friend he would not wish to dislodge from his affections for something as silly as a faux engagement. For all she knew, this giggling creature could be his real fiancée, one that his uncle disliked and the very reason Lord Harry might have agreed to her scheme in the first place. He would gain his uncle’s favor, pry loose some funds, and be able to afford marrying the woman of his choice. He could buy her every hideous shawl in London.
But for heaven’s sake, he could not do that now. Whether he had a real fiancée or not, as long as he was pretending to be promised to her, he owed her at least the appearance of fidelity. And that did not include the giggling miss and her parcels.
By God, she would find a way to see him again and she would tell him exactly what she thought of his little tart there on the street. Then perhaps she would suggest they work just a bit harder to assure this false engagement was believable. That could mean another ride through the park, perhaps. And just to make certain he was willing, she’d see what she could do about improving his conveyance situation.
Although, she had to admit as she watched him tenderly assist his pretty companion up into the seat, he seemed to be doing just fine with the dilapidated conveyance he already had.
THIS MAID FROM BURLINGTON’S HOUSE HAD NOT BEEN exactly the first thing on his mind today, but when Harris ran into her coming out of a shop he decided not to ignore a golden opportunity. He’d initially come out here in the hopes of finding Penelope. He’d called at her home, as any dutiful suitor might, only to be told by the butler she was out shopping.
That came as good news. It seemed fortuitous, as this would put
her securely in the polite company of respectable chaperones, yet he could happen along and run into her, furthering their acquaintance and further gaining her trust but not leading him into a position where he might become, er, distracted again. That scarab would be in his hands very soon.
Yet he’d not taken into consideration how many places there were for a respectable lady of means to shop.
By God, but he was weary of looking in shop windows at bonnets and trimmings and buttons and buckles and heaven only knew what other sundries these women needed to hunt for out here. He’d had no luck whatsoever finding Penelope, though in one shop he decided to take a chance and announce to the shopkeeper that he was hunting a silk shawl for his fiancée, Miss Penelope Rastmoor. The shopkeeper seemed surprised at that.
He announced Penelope had been there only minutes before, in fact. He then pointed out a particularly expensive shawl he claimed she’d been admiring, and Harris felt bound, at that point, to purchase said shawl since he claimed that’s what he’d been after in the first place. The shopkeeper wrapped it in paper for him, and Harris was rather glad to have it out of view.
It did not really look like something he would expect Penelope to admire, and he couldn’t quite see how the variety of red stripes and garish orange fringes would really compliment her coloring or—truthfully—anything on the planet. In fact, there was no way of knowing whether Penelope had been there and even seen the shawl, or whether the shopkeeper had neatly swindled Harris out of several coins he could ill afford to throw away today. No wonder most normal men hated shopping.
It was while he’d been grumbling to himself over his bad fortune that he’d nearly walked into the maid on the street. He recognized her from Burlington’s house yesterday and was quite pleased to have come across her so easily. He’d thought there might be some actual effort needed to locate the girl again, yet here she was right in front of him. And blushing quite prettily, too. Indeed, this would work nicely.
He tucked Penelope’s neatly packaged shawl up under his arm and greeted the young woman.
Passion and Pretense Page 7
