Passion and Pretense

by Susan Gee Heino

  It was lunacy. Harris had no intentions of meeting the man, but if he was pushed into it he was for damn sure not about to devolve. If he had to face Burlington over this ridiculous issue, he was tempted to do so with lethal accuracy. No way he would stand there and let Burlington—or Nedley, his unsurprising second—plug him with holes. He had no doubt that was dear Uncle Nedley’s intent. If Burlington didn’t kill him straight out, he was certain his scheming uncle would. This was all very convenient for the old man.

  He had no time for this, though. Professor Oldham was in danger. Indeed, Harris had not slept last night but had left Burlington’s home to investigate Lady Burlington’s claim that the scholar had been ransomed and brought back to London. It seemed this was, indeed, the case, but Harris had not managed to get information to indicate the man’s whereabouts. His uncle sent word that if Harris wanted to find Oldham, he would have to meet Burlington. Supposedly, if he survived the duel, he would be given the man’s location.

  Harris assumed that “if” was the very operative word. It was clearly his uncle’s intent that he not survive. Yet he could not very well abandon Oldham at this point, could he? Of course not. He returned the note to Burlington with assurance that he would meet him. The next morning.

  That would give him eighteen hours to find Oldham on his own. A pounding at his door, however, told him finding time to do that might be a bit difficult.

  He went to the door, expecting yet another round of insults from Burlington. It was, however, a far more personal insult. From Lord Rastmoor.

  No sooner had Harris opened the door to him than the man planted a powerful fist into his face. It was merely reflex action that caused Harris to turn his head just in time to avoid having his nose obliterated. Hell. Apparently word of last night’s trouble had reached Penelope’s brother.

  “Bastard! You treated my sister like a whore and now you’ve broken her heart!”

  “Hello, Rastmoor,” Harris said, adjusting his jaw and rather surprised to find it was not broken.

  “Don’t ignore the facts, Chesterton. She trusted you! Damn it, but this morning your uncle dropped by to tell me how he’d discovered you last night in flagrante delicto with Lady Burlington—just hours after I’d found you with Penelope. I did not thrash you then because you led me to believe your actions were simply those of a man in love. I could overlook that, Chesterton, but not this. Penelope is not some little plaything you can treat this way!”

  “So, do I take it you’re calling off the wedding, then?”

  “Calling off the wedding? Hell, I’m calling you out!”

  “Well, then you’ll have to stand in line, Rastmoor. I’m afraid Burlington has beat you to it.” He dabbed at his bottom lip, which was swelling quite rapidly and beginning to bleed.

  “Your uncle seems to doubt you’ve got bollocks enough to meet him.”

  “I have no desire to murder that windbag, and even less inclination to murder you.”

  “Then you are a coward.”

  “No, I simply have too many other things to do this week.”

  “You are worse than a blackguard,” Rastmoor grumbled. “What, are there still wives in Town you’ve not dallied with?”

  “Look, there are things you know nothing about. Your sister is fine; I’ve not ruined her, I assure you. I’ve left her no worse than I found her.”

  “Are you suggesting she was already damaged goods? It’s true she may have had several fiancés already, but—”

  “And you insinuate she may have allowed them certain liberties? Now who is insulting her? Damn you, Rastmoor, if you’ve so much as raised your voice at her or accused her of—”

  “I accused her of nothing more than trusting you, sir. And look what she gets for that. Her heart is broken!”

  “She is fine; better off without me, as a matter of fact.”

  “I won’t argue with you there. She will be fine, and she is better off without you. In fact, I’m making very certain she will be safely out of your reach while she recovers. I’m sending her to Egypt.”

  “Egypt? Good God, don’t you think that’s a little drastic?”

  “She’s begged me for years to let her go there. If you cared anything for her you might have paid attention to her interest in the subject.”

  “She never mentioned it. Egypt? Are you certain?”

  “Of course I’m certain! She’s my own sister, damn it. I’ve never let her go, but now I realize I should have. I should have let her pursue that passion, rather than letting her be victimized by yours.”

  “Penelope Rastmoor has never been victimized by anyone,” Harris said.

  He was beginning to wonder if, in fact, they’d all been victimized by her. So she was interested in Egypt, was she? He should have realized it. She’d had the scarab, after all. And he’d found her in that room in Burlington’s house, hadn’t he? He should have paid attention. She’d known what that phallus was all along. What else did she know about his missing artifacts?

  Hellfire. The girl was the key to all of this.

  “I’ll see that she never has to lay eyes on you again, Chesterton.”

  Damn. She’d wanted to go to Egypt all along, hadn’t she? This was the very thing she’d been negotiating with her brother. And now they’d all played into her hands and she was getting exactly what she wanted. But why? What would she get out of this journey to Egypt? Would she, perhaps, be bringing additional artifacts back to be sold off to the highest bidder? Who was she in league with?

  “As I said, Rastmoor, there are things you don’t know.”

  “I know enough to keep you away from my sister.”

  “I can most readily assure you,” Harris said, eager to get rid of this man and get busy making sense of this whole mess, “I would never dream of damaging an innocent.” Which clearly left her out.

  “And you’ll not go around town spreading vile rumors about her?”

  “I will not. You may choose not to believe it, but I bear a great deal of respect for your sister, Rastmoor.”

  This was even more true now that he realized how brilliantly she’d played her game. And won.

  Rastmoor studied him, apparently considering whether or not to believe Harris’s declaration. In the end, he appeared to believe.

  “Very well. I suppose we don’t have to come to meeting on a field.”

  “A relief, indeed.”

  “But I’m warning you…”

  “Yes, yes. I’m to have no further contact with Penelope.”

  “Damn it, don’t speak her name!”

  Harris nodded an apology. “I meant, I will have no further contact with Miss Rastmoor.”

  “You’re damn right, you won’t.”

  With that, Rastmoor scowled at him again, then marched to the front door. He let himself out with one last, meaningful glare. Indeed, there was no denying that man intended to hold Harris to his word. Pity. Things were bound to be tense between them when Harris completely broke his word and found a way to question the girl.

  He waited long enough, at least, for Rastmoor to be out of sight before he collected his gloves and his hat to go out and do just that. The knock at the door that interrupted him was softer than the others he’d answered today. Bother, what new trouble would this visitor bring?

  He opened the door almost tentatively, then nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Miss Rastmoor staring back nervously at him.

  “Good God! What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to warn you!” she declared. “Anthony is very upset.”

  “So I’m aware. You just missed him.”

  “Oh no. I’d hoped I would beat him.”

  He peered around her to confirm that the little idiot was, indeed, alone.

  “Good God, Penelope. Did you come on your own? This is far from the fashionable area.”

  “Then it’s less likely I should run into anyone I know, isn’t it?”

  “That’s hardly the point. You can’t possibly think
it’s a good idea for a young lady to be marching about town all alone!”

  “Well, you might at least be a bit grateful that I thought to come warn you, despite how you treated me.”

  “Warn me of what?”

  “That my brother is an excellent shot. If he called you out, I think it is a good idea for you to avoid meeting him.”

  “Oh, you would have me show myself a coward?”

  “I heard your uncle telling Anthony that he seems to believe you’ve already done that.”

  “Your brother allowed you to be present for that conversation?”

  “Of course not. I was eavesdropping.”

  “Naturally. I swear, Penelope, you go hunting trouble, don’t you?”

  “Apparently I do. I certainly found enough of it when I found you, didn’t I?”

  “It was never my intent to compromise you.”

  “No, it was merely your intent to steal from me.”

  “I can explain that.”

  “Oh, truly, I’d love to hear it!”

  “Look, I don’t have time for this. Tell me why you are so eager to go to Egypt?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “Your brother. Now tell me what you know about those antiquities.”

  “Do you mean my scarab? I know you stole it from me. Do you still have it or have you already been to the pawnbroker?”

  “Pawnbroker? You believe that is what I’d do with such an extraordinary piece?”

  “It’s common knowledge you have no money, Lord Harry. I assumed you’d sell that, then take yourself out of London in that shiny phaeton my brother so generously provided you.”

  It was actually quite painful, for some reason, to realize this was how she thought of him.

  “I no longer have that shiny phaeton.”

  “You sold it, too? Well that was rather foolish. Lord Burlington might be able to trail you if you leave London by coach.”

  “Burlington will have no need to trail me. If I cannot get the information I need in order to save my…Well, I’ve agreed to meet the man in the morning.”

  “But that’s ridiculous! What if he kills you?”

  “Then that will save your brother the trouble, won’t it? I should think that might please you.”

  “Unlike you, I do not take pleasure in others’ misery. I would, in fact, be just the slightest bit distressed should some jealous husband or vengeful brother actually kill you.”

  “Miss Rastmoor, that is quite by far the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Don’t make too much of it. I’m still quite angry over my scarab. Tell me where it is so I may at least go and buy it back.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her attitude. She was a lying little schemer, of course, but he did appreciate her spunk.

  “The scarab is here. It is not destined for the pawnshop, I assure you. As for your brother’s carriage, I have returned it. It should be waiting for him when he arrives home.”

  She seemed quite perplexed by this news. It was a good look on her, he had to admit. However, he was determined not to become distracted. Penelope knew more than she was showing. He’d answered her questions; now it was time for her to answer some of his.

  “So you see? I’m not a complete villain. Now tell me, Penelope—”

  “I don’t believe I’ve given you leave to call me by my name.”

  Now he couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You very much did, my dear. Last night, in that dark room. If what passed between us there did not grant me the right to call you by name, I don’t know what would.”

  She blushed. That, also, was a very good look on her.

  “If you truly were a gentleman, sir, you’d kindly forget that event.”

  “Impossible, Penelope. I will remember that quite fondly for the rest of my life.”

  And this was no lie. He wasn’t exactly pleased to realize it, but the young woman had proven to be unforgettable.

  “I hope you will, too,” he added, taking advantage of her awkward silence and reaching out to touch her face.

  She jolted away from him, but her face went even deeper pink. He knew there was no doubt that the brief taste of intimacy they’d shared would always remain in her memory. That, indeed, was a satisfying thought.

  “I’ve already forgotten most of it,” she lied, trying to sound smug.

  He was not deceived.

  “Then perhaps you need a reminder,” he suggested, stepping closer and reaching for her again.

  She dodged him. “Once was more than enough, sir.”

  “It was not, and you know it. However, I will acknowledge that pursuing this aspect of our relationship in greater depth is probably unwise.”

  “Yes, considering my brother already wants to kill you. He did call you out, didn’t he?”

  “He thought about it, but we settled our differences like civilized gentlemen.”

  “Oh? What did he make you agree to?”

  He cleared his throat, realizing the irony of things. “Er, I had to agree never to see you again.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’m happy to see you are keeping your word.”

  “I did not invite you to come pounding at my door.”

  “I only came because I was worried about you.”

  This time when he took a step closer to her she could not back away. He had already chased her back against the wall. All she could do was blink her huge eyes at him like a frightened rabbit. He never realized how attractive a rabbit could be.

  “I believe I like having you worry for me, Penelope.”

  “It is purely selfish,” she said. “If something should happen, I’d likely feel guilt for pulling you into this silly arrangement we had.”

  “You mean our engagement?”

  “Our false engagement.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be so very silly after all. I hear you will be getting a trip to Egypt.”

  “Er, yes. Anthony seems to think that will soothe my broken heart.”

  “You are quite the actress,” he said, stroking a lock of her hair. “I take it Egypt is what you were after all along?”

  “It is.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Why not? It seems an utterly fascinating place, so rich with human history and all manner of strange, exotic things.”

  “It can be rather hot. And dusty. And life there is hardly what you are used to here.”

  “I know! That’s what makes it so compelling. It seems so very…Wait, have you been there?”

  “I have.”

  Now her eyes went even more huge. She suddenly seemed to forget her fear of him looming over her, and she leaned toward him as she fired off questions faster than he could answer.

  “Have you been to the pyramids? Have you traveled along the Nile? Have you ridden a camel? Have you seen the ancient treasures? Is it all every bit as fantastic as it seems?”

  “Yes, and more so. Now you tell me, my dear, where exactly did you come by your scarab?”

  “Don’t you mean your scarab, since obviously you have no intention of returning it to me?”

  “No, I won’t return it to you. Tell me who you got it from.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is stolen.”

  “Stolen? No, surely not!”

  “Surely so. Shall I take it that you are personally acquainted with these thieves? Working with them, perhaps?”

  “No! That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Are you certain you’re not planning your journey around procuring another shipment of stolen artifacts?”

  “Of course not! I’m no thief, Lord Harry.”

  “You’re quite an accomplished liar, my dear. Why on earth should I believe you are not a thief, as well?”

  “I’m not! I purchased that scarab, just as I told you.”

  “Conveniently, though, you never quite got around to telling me who you purchased it from.”

  “Because she asked me not to tell anyone.”<
br />
  “Obviously, then, she knew it was stolen. Who was it? Lady Burlington, perhaps?”

  “Of course not. I would certainly never buy jewelry from her.”

  “Then who?”

  It was clear she did not wish to divulge her source. He couldn’t blame her, of course. It would surely indict the party. Perhaps even endanger her, as clearly the thieves trusted her to keep their identities secret. Harris moved closer to her, touching her neck now, tracing his fingertips along the delicate line of her jaw.

  Oh yes, he would get the information out of her. She’d already demonstrated to him she was not proof against his seduction.

  “Very well,” she said, trying to shake him off. “I’ll tell you.”

  “Yes, you will.” Wise girl, to give in before he took things any further.

  “I got the scarab from Maria.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Penelope was having an awful time breathing. It wasn’t that Lord Harry was crushing her; no, he was barely touching her, as a matter of fact. It was just that he was so close, so attentive. She could feel heat radiating off his solid body, and it was impossible to escape his icy eyes. His beautiful, icy eyes.

  That he could have such an effect on her without even trying did not make her feel particularly safe. Not that he would hurt her; not physically, at least. But she was beginning to sense that physical injury was the least of her worry where he was concerned. It was all those other things he could do to her that had her worried. And oh my! What he could do to her.

  “The scarab came from your friend, Maria? Miss Bradley?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how did she come by it?”

  His touch bewitched her. She could not step away from him even if she tried. Not that she wanted to try, of course. She wanted to melt into him, let her body linger here in this half haze of sensation for the rest of eternity. Or at least another half hour, or so.

  “It was given to her by an admirer,” she replied, obediently answering his questions.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. She indicated the gift was not invited. I believe she was a bit insulted by this gentleman, in fact, and threatened to throw it away. I offered to buy it from her. She would not take what it was worth, so I bought her the bonnet she’d been admiring, instead. With my pin money.”