“But can you be certain now is the best time for it?” Markland was asking.
“It should have been done already,” Ferrel replied. “I will not wait longer; it has to be tonight.”
They had Harris’s complete attention, of course. Tonight? What could they be planning that had to be done tonight? He strained his ears and held his breath, inching along the backside of the low brick wall, as close to them as he dared.
“But do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Markland asked.
“Of course I do! I’ve been planning this for nearly a year. I thought you were my friend, that I could trust you in this.”
“It’s your life we’re talking about, though,” Markland went on. “You cannot just impulsively break into—”
“Shush! No one can know about this.”
So Ferrel was breaking into something, was he? Perhaps Harris had underestimated his cousin all along.
“Tonight, when everyone is asleep. I’ll have the carriage in waiting. All I need you to do is to meet the man at the ship. Pay him for his trouble, and I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
Pay a man at a ship? So they were taking something abroad. Harris had a fair idea what it was, too: stolen Egyptian treasure.
“I can’t believe I’ve agreed to help you with this,” Markland said with a heavy sigh.
“But I have no one else to turn to,” Ferrel said, with just a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Yes, I know. It’s for a noble cause, and all. Still, I say you should have considered Chesterton.”
“My cousin? Damn it, but of course I considered him. He’s the reason it has to be now. The man’s too involved already. You know what he’s about. If I wait another day there’s a chance he’ll swoop in and…Well, I don’t trust him.”
“I doubt he’ll be any threat,” Markland said. “Seems to me he’s rather preoccupied with his new fiancée.”
But Ferrel merely scoffed at that. Harris was duly offended.
“I happen to know on good authority that my cousin has no plan whatsoever of actually taking Miss Rastmoor to the altar. It’s all for show.”
“Well then, it is quite a show at that!” Markland laughed. Insensitive lobcock.
“He thinks an engagement will get him in my father’s good graces while he continues his usual schemes. No, he is too close to this. I need to act now before he ruins it all. Please, Markland, you must help me with this.”
“Oh, very well. I see you have your heart set. Yes, I’ll meet your man at the wharf tonight while you do your dark deeds.”
“Thank you! I promise to repay you every bit.”
“Yes, yes. Just promise me in days to come I will not be forced to hold your drunken head while you rail on and on about what a fool thing you did here, acting on impulse and forced to live in regret all the rest of your days.”
“That will not happen! I assure you, sir.”
“Very well, I will believe you. It seems there is nothing to dissuade you, so I might as well help out. But come, I’m feeling as if I could use a bit of luncheon.”
Ferrel heartily agreed with the notion of food, and without another mention of the crime they were plotting, the men headed off. Unless he wished to be seen, Harris could do little but hide behind the wall and wait until they were a good distance away before he could set after them. At that point, however, they were lost. Foot traffic around the park area had picked up, and Harris cursed under his breath when several minutes of searching proved he was not going to find them again.
Damn and damn! All he was doing was finding pieces to this puzzle, not coming any closer to solving it. And now it appeared things were even more complicated than he’d known: Ferrel was willing to commit criminal activities that would jeopardize Professor Oldham, and somehow he’d gotten Markland to agree to help. Markland’s animosity must be greater than Harris ever imagined.
He allowed a moment for cursing the man. Damn him! Could Markland possibly be so unaware of what was at stake? No, certainly he could not. He knew how things were, the danger Oldham was in. Apparently, though, he simply did not care. Good God, but if the old man ever learned of Markland’s insensitivity, it would break his heart.
Professor Oldham may have developed a great rapport with Harris over the years, but always his heart had longed for a deeper connection with Markland. Ferrel’s selfish conspirator may have been raised by his grandfather and taken the family name of that pretentious patriarch, but he would always be something Harris was not. Markland was Professor Oldham’s firstborn son. His legitimate son.
Despite Harris’s love and devotion for the scholar all these years, despite what he had become to him and how they shared their passion for Egyptology as well as a deep disdain for Nedley and his ilk, those prized positions would always be held by Markland. Oldham fairly worshipped the proper, priggish Markland. His callously infrequent letters were like gold to the older man; the mere mention of his name brought raptures of joy, and every word of Markland’s mildest success sent him over the moon. No matter how many artifacts Harris dug up or how many of Oldham’s writings he had gotten into scholarly publications, Harris was only ever second best. Markland was the first, and always would be.
Yet when his father—kidnapped, maligned, abandoned—needed him most, this was how Markland responded? He helped a useless pup like Ferrel actually steal the very treasure that could have been used to save the man. At least, it could have been used if Harris had gotten to it soon enough.
But he hadn’t. Instead, his uncle had been able to gather it together and go about plotting his revenge. Even if Oldham truly was back safely on English soil, he’d be ruined. Outside of his blind worship for Markland, the only thing Charles Oldham cared about was his work. Now that Nedley had carefully destroyed his credibility with the Egyptian people, that would be over. Damn! And all because Harris had gotten too caught up with a beautiful woman and failed to act in time.
Well, perhaps he had not failed yet. Ferrel was going to get that treasure tonight, was he? Not if Harris managed to get to it first. Fortunately, he’d already found his way into Burlington’s home once. He could easily do it again. Just as soon as it got dark.
“I TAKE IT YOU HAVE HAD YOUR FILL OF LORD HARRY,” Maria said when they were alone together in Penelope’s private room.
“Most definitely,” she vowed. If one could lie in a vow.
“Then you have mended your heart?” Maria asked.
“I told you, my heart was very slightly involved. No mending was needed.”
“And what of your plans for traveling to Egypt? Have you given up that, as well?”
“I do not have to. Can you believe it? Anthony will let me go after all!”
“He will? He has agreed?”
“He has! I could scarce believe it myself.”
“But…how on earth did you sway him?”
“I didn’t; it was his idea. He’s convinced my heart is broken and he suggested I travel.”
“He suggested it?”
“He thinks a journey to Egypt will help me recover.”
Maria sighed and shook her head. “Only you, Penelope Rastmoor. No one else could have possibly made this work in her favor.”
Penelope wasn’t entirely certain Maria meant it as a compliment. She also wasn’t entirely certain any of this really was going in her favor. Somehow Egypt without Lord Harry didn’t seem quite so very enticing as it once had. She must have been making a face as she contemplated this unusual change in attitude, because Maria commented on it.
“You think perhaps this won’t work out, after all? Are you concerned your brother will change his mind and not allow you to go?”
“Oh no, he seems quite content to send me off.”
“Then why are you not singing and dancing in the street?”
“It’s just that…well, things may have worked out for me, but I’m concerned that Lord Harry is getting the bad end of the bargain.”
“Lord H
arry again? I thought you did not care what happened to him.”
“I don’t, of course, but it just seems rather unfair for him.”
“Unfair? For him? But he’s an unscrupulous bounder!”
“I know, I know. But it would be a shame for him to die in a duel, and I did promise to help him gain his uncle’s approval, and—”
“Good gracious! You’re completely in love with him!”
“Honestly, Maria. Don’t be mad.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not. But I fear you are, Penelope. Oh, but you simply cannot be in love with that…that person.”
Somehow Maria made person sound like a bad word.
“Of course I’m not in love with him,” she reassured. “Oh, perhaps for one or two minutes I fancied I might be, a bit, but that faded quickly.”
“It doesn’t seem that way.”
“Well, it is.”
Maria was quiet. Penelope chewed her lip. The silence between them felt a bit uncomfortable. Not quite honest, either.
“Very well…perhaps there is still some lingering shadow of sentiment, but nothing more,” Penelope admitted.
“How much is still lingering?”
“A mere drop. I’m not mutton-headed enough to fall very much in love with a man like that. The tiniest bit, that’s all.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Because he’s completely dreadful and not at all for you.”
“Yes, I know. He’s terrible, really. And certainly if I did happen to love him—which I’m almost sure I don’t—”
“Almost?”
“Almost positively. Besides, I know he does not at all feel the same toward me.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Why, just this morning when I went to his house—”
Maria screeched and clutched at her arm again. “You went to his house?”
“It’s more just a couple of rooms, actually. And not at all in a fashionable area.”
“You went inside?”
“I thought it more prudent than being seen on the street with him.”
“Heavens! And you went there alone, I expect?”
“Of course! I could hardly ask Mamma or Anthony to accompany me, could I?”
“But how did he treat you?”
“Wonderfully. Well, that is, until he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of there.”
“He dragged you? Oh no! Where did he take you?”
“Back to Anthony, of course. And you can imagine he was not pleased.”
“I should think not. Yet he still is going to let you go to Egypt?”
“He’s convinced I’m in love.”
Maria frowned. “I wonder where on earth he could have gotten that notion.”
“I suppose I did rather lead him to think it.”
“As long as you’re not foolish enough to think it yourself.”
“Must we go on about this? Please, I would much rather leave it. Tell me, instead, about the ball. What did you do after I left last night? Did you dance again with anyone?”
Maria’s expression lightened. She blushed, too. “Indeed I did! I stood up with Mr. Markland. I have to say, I thought him a bit cool at first, but later on he seemed very charming indeed.”
“How lovely for you.”
Aha, so there was something there already. Penelope knew it. She’d seen right from the start that Markland showed an interest in her friend. Not that she’d gloat that she’d been the one responsible for piquing the man’s interest in her. No, indeed. Far better to let Maria think she’d captured him all on her own.
“And he had many questions about you,” Maria said with a smile. “I think perhaps you have an admirer.”
“What? Oh no, Maria. I assure you when I spoke to Mr. Markland last night it was all about you.”
Now Maria frowned. Heavens, but that was an odd response. Well, she supposed Maria always had been far too humble for her own good. She’d best set her right immediately.
“Surely if Mr. Markland asked about me it was simply as a way to learn more about you.”
“Can you believe such a thing?” Maria asked.
“Of course. Truly, he has given me every reason to believe he holds you in quite high esteem.”
Maria laughed at her. “Indeed, no need to flatter. He is quite the catch, you know. And I believe he wouldn’t at all mind being caught by you, Penelope. You should be glad to have attracted a gentleman such as he. What a difference from Lord Harry. And so handsome.”
“Yes, he is. But really, you can’t say that he is any better proportioned than Lord Harry.”
“I suppose they are similar in some way, but Mr. Markland must be thought superior.”
“I’m glad you appreciate Mr. Markland’s fine qualities—indeed it seems he has many—but I’d be amiss if I didn’t point out that Lord Harry is very fine in some ways, as well.”
“And what ways would those be?” Maria asked.
Instantly Penelope felt her face go warm. Drat. Maria noticed.
“I daresay I can guess what you prefer most about Lord Harry. You’ve crept off into corners with him enough.”
And obviously Maria did not approve.
“Well, you’ll be relieved to hear that Lord Harry’s interest in me has been rather limited.”
“You mean once he got what he wanted he lost interest?”
“I assure you, the gentleman most certainly did not get everything he wanted.” Drat.
“I’m so happy to hear it! I must confess, I feared perhaps he’d taken advantage of you, that things had gone to the point of worrying for consequences.”
Well! Shame on Maria for even suggesting such a thing. Never mind that Penelope had very nearly begged him to do such things…
“I’m quite pleased to assure you they have not,” Penelope said. “Lord Harry was only too eager to return me to Anthony even when…”
Oh, but she very nearly said too much. No way would she ever want to actually admit to that she’d thrown herself at that man and been flatly rejected. Some things a lady should simply not discuss.
“You mean it was his idea to take you back to your brother when you’d have been willing to stay with him? Why, Penelope!”
“Don’t look at me as if I’ve suddenly become a monster.”
Maria’s expression softened. “So you really are in love with him.”
Well now, that was the worst possible thing Maria could have said. Not only was it insulting, but Penelope hated the feeling of hopelessness that welled up inside her at such a simple phrase. Indeed, she’d been fervently denying the possibility of such a thing, but suddenly she could not. Her own heart confirmed her worst fear.
Maria placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure it will all work out. You do have rather good luck in that area, after all. Suitors come and go and you seem to be no worse for it.”
“Of course I’ll be fine,” Penelope said, sliding away from her friend and suddenly needing to rearrange the jumble of knickknacks and lotions on her dressing table. “After all, he doesn’t love me and I certainly don’t wish to love him. In just a matter of time I’m sure I’ll forget him altogether.”
“That’s the spirit. You’ll be over Lord Harry just as quickly as the others.”
“Of course. I have no doubt.”
Well, that was a lie, but it seemed to give Maria a good deal of peace.
“Then there is no harm done. You will have your trip to Egypt, then return and marry someone appropriate someday.”
“I suppose so.”
They were both silent for some moments. Penelope was trying desperately to picture herself blissfully wed to someone appropriate but was coming up empty. Apparently she was simply not that imaginative. Her fantasies had room for just one gentleman, apparently, and he was far from appropriate. Thankfully, Maria changed the subject before she could become very morose.
“I have to say, everything I’ve heard about Mr. Markland mak
es him out to be quite the proper gentleman.”
Ah, good. Once again they were back on Mr. Markland. It seemed Maria’s imagination was returning to one specific person, too. Heavens, perhaps she would make it all the way to the altar before Penelope would!
“Indeed, I have heard nothing to the contrary. He seems a very decent sort of gentleman.”
“And you did note how handsome he is, did you not?”
“Most certainly! There’s no one who could deny he’s quite dashing.”
“And he rescued you from that carriage, of course.”
“Quite true. He seems a most remarkable gentleman.”
“Then certainly you should fall in love with him,” Maria said.
“Yes, I should…er, what?”
“You must be half in love already.”
“With Mr. Markland?!” Penelope wasn’t positive she’d heard correctly.
But Maria clasped her hands in something like glee. “Yes, yes…you only just met, and you’ve still got that silly Lord Harry to get out of your system, but I can see the attraction is already there. On both sides, I daresay.”
Goodness, but she must set her friend straight at once. “Not on mine, indeed. Have no fear. All his attraction is focused on you.”
Odd, but Maria looked quite terrified at the thought. “On me? Oh my! Whatever should give you that idea?”
For heaven’s sake. Was the girl so very rattled at the thought of it? How lucky she had Penelope to help her through this grand emotion.
“Of course you’re anxious at the thought of it all,” Penelope said. “But you have no need. I can see clearly how you feel about him.”
“And just how do I feel about him?”
“You’re the one in love, of course. I knew as much when you asked me to help with your appearance last night.”
“But I certainly never said I was in love with Mr. Markland!”
“Do you think you had to?” Penelope asked, not quite able to keep from grinning at her friend’s obvious awe of the man. “You’ve certainly not ceased praising Mr. Markland since the moment I mentioned him after that little incident with the carriage.”
“Little incident! You very nearly died, Penelope,” Maria declared. “And I have only ever praised the man for your sake. I thought surely Mr. Markland would rate far higher in your esteem than Lord Harry. At least, he ought to.”
Passion and Pretense Page 26
