She is your client, and a woman, that is all. Women are not to be trusted and can be devious when appearing innocuous. Continue to remember it, and all will be well.
They settled onto the softly padded benches across from each other. “I suggest, since this will be the third time we appear at one of these events together, we stop with the Mr. Baker and Mrs. Pennyworth.”
Charlotte eyed him carefully, biting her lower lip, where he wanted to place his own lips. “I’m not sure if that is appropriate.”
She looked adorable, and he had to glance away before he scooted over to her side of the carriage and took that delectable mouth in a kiss she was not likely to forget. “If we are to be a believable couple, which means no one will question why I am at these affairs since they are not my friends, we need to act more…”
“More what?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if to keep the outside world unaware of his words. “Like lovers.”
Her head snapped back, and she stiffened, while he waited for a well-deserved slap across his face at his suggestive words. “I have no intention of allowing people to believe that I am behaving in such an improper manner.”
Unable to keep from teasing her at her self-righteous fury, he said, “You don’t wish to be seen as my lover, or as any man’s lover?”
She fussed with her reticule, her face flushed, obviously having a difficult time composing herself.
He should drop the matter, but something inside him rebelled. He wanted to know. “Come now. Surely you are aware that most widows take lovers, if they don’t remarry.”
“I am not most widows! And this is an extremely inappropriate conversation.” The anger in her voice and the red dots on her cheeks made him wonder what it would be like to have all that passion directed toward him. In bed.
“I apologize. You are right. I have no reason to speak to you in that manner, or believe you would be the type of woman who would take a lover.” He leaned back once more, pondering what had possessed him to even bring up such a subject. The conversation had gotten far from where it had started, and not in a good direction.
Although she had not answered his question, it was time to let it go. “However, I stand by my suggestion that we adopt Elliot and Charlotte when we are around your friends. Besides which, if we intend to draw out the man harassing you, we need to give him reason to show his cards.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Has it not occurred to you that the man leaving the packages, and gaining your notice, might be acting out of jealousy?”
She sniffed. “Jealousy? That is absurd. I have given no one a reason to be jealous.”
“Charlotte.” He paused, seeing how her given name felt on his tongue. “You are a very attractive woman who is at the end of her mourning period. I am sure there are a number of men in your circle of friends and acquaintances who would be quite pleased to enter into a relationship with you.”
The startled look in her eyes made him wonder about her sincerity. Could it be she was so naive as to be unaware of her appeal to men? Did she not know she was not only beautiful, and possessed a figure every man under four score would love to run his hands over, but her sweet, genuine personality, wit, and intelligence was a draw of its own?
Or did he have it all wrong, and this was another game she was playing, pretending ignorance while she plotted and planned something? Was it possible she was using him and his investigation into these packages as a cover-up for some nefarious deeds?
He shook his head at the fanciful thoughts running away with him like a prized thoroughbred nearing the end of the race. He wanted to believe she was sincere, and if he had not previously been made an arse of by a beautiful woman, he would not be questioning her at all.
“I suppose there might be someone interested in me in that manner, but he would hardly earn my favor by leaving dead animals on my front steps.” Her lips turned up in a slight smile.
Happy that her anger at him had subsided, he said, “’Tis true. I must admit whenever I courted a woman, I never thought to offer her dead animals.”
“So narrow-minded, Mr. Baker? No dead birds or rodents for your sweethearts?” Her smile had turned into something else. Her face lit up, and the banter they enjoyed had obviously relaxed her.
“Perhaps you are right. But then a fine steak dinner could fall into that category as well.”
She shuddered. “Oh, dear. I shall never look at a steak the same way again.”
Sorry to see her good humor vanish with his careless words, Elliot glanced out the window of the carriage as the vehicle came to a stop. “It appears we have arrived.” He moved forward on the seat and reached for the door handle. “Although I am hardly a great romantic, even I know that whoever is doing this is misguided in how to gain a lady’s favor.” He hoped his smile restored the geniality they’d shared during the few minutes of silly repartee. As he helped her out of the carriage, he added, “I still credit jealousy as your tormentor’s motivation, so let us give him reason to reveal himself.”
The room to which they were directed was large enough to hold a dozen card tables. A few of the tables were already in play, the competitors serious in their game, while several groups of guests clustered together, chatting and sipping from glasses. Elliot and Charlotte entered the room and were immediately approached by Mr. Talbot, who seemed a bit possessive of Charlotte, and Miss Garvey with the full dance card. The other man was unknown to him.
Talbot greeted them and turned to the other man. “May I introduce you to Mr. Elliot Baker and Mrs. Pennyworth?” He waved in their direction, then placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is Baron Von Braun, from Austria. He has recently relocated to London.”
“A pleasure, Baron,” Elliot said, studying him carefully. The baron was somewhere in his mid to late forties. Most of his face was covered by a well-trimmed beard and mustache, with a monocle wedged in his left eye. Tall and bulky, he stood straight as a soldier, his smile never reaching his eyes.
The man made a curt turn away from him, bowed from the waist, and took Charlotte’s hand in his, brushing his lips over her gloved fingers. “Mrs. Pennyworth, may I offer my condolences on the passing of Mr. Pennyworth.” He patted the hand he held.
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose. “You knew my husband?”
“Indeed. We conducted business several years ago. I did not know of his death until I arrived from Austria.”
“Oh.” She seemed to be trying to tug her hand loose, but the baron did not let go.
“If there is anything I can do for you, please send word. I am at your service.”
“Yes, I will.” Finally able to retrieve her hand, she moved it behind her back and gave him a strained smile.
Watching the exchange between the baron and Charlotte, Mr. Talbot’s smile faded, and he frowned, which added two men to Elliot’s list of potential suspects—Von Braun and Talbot.
“Is anyone ready to play cards?” Miss Garvey’s rough voice broke the spell that seemed to hold the group transfixed.
“Yes, of course.” The baron waved to a table near the door that held four seats. He turned and looked directly at Elliot. “It appears we are one too many. Who would like to sit out?”
Happy to have a good excuse to wander the room, Elliot immediately volunteered. He wanted to keep an eye on the baron as well as Mr. Talbot, and at the same time be free to speak to some of the others at the party.
However, it might have been his imagination, but Charlotte looked a bit anxious at his imminent departure. He reached out and squeezed her hand, a reminder that he was watching, and she had nothing to fear. “May I fetch you a drink, Miss Garvey, Charlotte?”
“No,” Miss Garvey said. “I have no need to have anyone fetch me what I am able to obtain myself. I have just finished a lemonade.”
Silence followed her comment as they all stared at her. Oblivious to their regard, she took her seat.
“Yes, please, El
liot.” Charlotte seemed to stumble over his name, but he doubted anyone noticed. “I would like a lemonade.”
After bringing her the drink, Elliot wandered the room, speaking to various people, joining in on games with other groups.
But the entire time, his eyes kept returning to Charlotte’s table, keeping Baron Von Braun and Mr. Talbot under close scrutiny.
Chapter Seven
“Do you feel as though you learned anything tonight?” Charlotte settled herself in the carriage across from Elliot. The card party had been pleasant enough, but since she was now looking at every man who spoke to her with suspicion, the strain truly took a toll on her nerves.
“I know Talbot was a friend of Mr. Pennyworth, but how well do you know him? He seemed a bit unsettled when the baron fawned over you.”
“He hardly fawned over me. He was polite. And to answer your question, Mr. Talbot was my husband’s friend. He visited our home on a regular basis, but aside from that we had no contact, except when he assisted me during the funeral, and the few times he stopped by over the course of my mourning to ask after my well-being. I’m sure if he had dark intentions toward me, it would have come out before now.”
“You were in mourning for almost a year, so he had no reason to see other men paying you their attentions.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because he might very well have intentions toward you, and seeing other men as competition could set him off.”
“But how would that figure into sending me dead animals?”
They were back to that again, but not in the mood to continue the vein of the earlier discussion, Elliot squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have all the answers. I’m merely trying to put together pieces of the puzzle. For now, he will stay on my ‘possibility’ list. Let’s discuss the baron.”
Charlotte sighed and looked out the carriage window. The dark circles under her eyes, illuminated by the pale sun coming through the window, reminded him how this matter was affecting her. So far, she’d come across as a strong woman, but even strong people were known to crack under pressure.
After a few minutes of silence, when Elliot thought he would need to repeat his question, she turned to him. “Truth be known, he made me uneasy.”
Elliot sat up straight and leaned forward. “How so?”
“Perhaps he did fawn over me. He held my hand longer than is proper, and when I tried to tug it free, he kept holding it for a few more seconds, as if to let me know he had some power or control over me.”
He had noticed that little byplay between Charlotte and the baron, which was why Elliot had kept his eyes on the man while he roamed the room, and even when he sat with other players at various tables. “He remained at your table the entire party, even though Mr. Talbot and Miss Garvey eventually switched to other tables. Did anything of note happen while you played cards?”
She shook her head. “No, that is the strange thing. After I was initially introduced to him, he never said another word. Not to me, nor to anyone else at the table, that didn’t relate to the game. But—every time I looked up from my cards, he was staring at me.”
Baron Van Braun shot to the top of Elliot’s list. He would ask his foreign office contacts about the baron first thing in the morning. Thinking it best to take her mind off the events, since it was his job to ferret out the scoundrel so Charlotte’s life could return to normal, he changed the subject. “I noticed on the list of events you provided me that a St. Jerome’s was mentioned for tomorrow. Is that a church you attend?”
“No. St. Jerome’s is an orphanage in St. Giles.” Her bright smile erased some of the strain on her face. “I go there two or three times a week to play with the children and read to them. I bring treats, clothing donated by friends, fresh fruit which they rarely get, and baked goods from my cook.”
His eyebrows rose. “St. Giles? I don’t think it is a good idea to venture into that part of town. Does anyone else go with you?”
“No.” She raised her chin. “I answer to no one. I can certainly move about freely without restraint. I have been going to St. Jerome’s since before Mr. Pennyworth and I married.”
“I don’t approve, and I will accompany you tomorrow.”
Her eyes snapped as she regarded him. “Don’t approve? Excuse me, Mr. Baker, but I hired you to find out who is leaving packages on my front doorstep, not to tell me how to conduct my life.”
“Things have changed, madam. Someone is haunting you, leaving horrid things on your doorstep. How do you know this person is not keeping track of your comings and goings? At the best of times, St. Giles is not a place for a gently reared woman to be, let alone one who is already in someone’s sinister sights.” When she didn’t answer, but still gave him a mulish look, he added. “I will accompany you tomorrow. Just tell me what time.”
The flush on her face told him she did not take his commands well, but nevertheless, he would not permit her to expose herself to danger. “I generally plan to leave at ten in the morning. If you wish to escort me, please be on time.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I will not wait for you.”
Stubborn woman. Why had he allowed himself to get mixed up in this entire matter? It irritated him. Everything about Charlotte Pennyworth spelled trouble. She was beautiful. She stirred his loins every time he was near her. She was headstrong, and above all, she was hiding something. Something he intended to get to the bottom of.
“Tell me a little bit about your life before you married Mr. Pennyworth.”
Charlotte’s face flushed, and she immediately began to pick off invisible lint from her pelisse. “I worked at Drummonds on the West End.”
The distrustful monster in him reared its ugly head. “The bank that deals with the aristocracy, gentry, and wealthy lawyers?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do there?” While it was not unheard of for a woman to work at a bank, it was indeed rare.
“I was a file clerk, and on occasion I delivered papers to some of the bank’s customers. It was how I met Mr. Pennyworth.” Although she did not seem as fidgety, her terse words told him this was a conversation she wanted to end.
“Ah, yes. I believe you told me he was a lawyer.”
“Yes. A solicitor.”
“Have you always lived in London?”
Once more a flushed face. “I do not see the point of all these questions about me, Mr. Baker. I am certainly not the one placing these things on my front doorstep.”
He moved forward, his knees touching hers. “If you want me to investigate fully, I need to ask questions. For all we know, the person tormenting you could very well be from your past.”
“I have no past.” Her words were clipped as she turned her head to look out the window.
He leaned back again, every nerve in his body on alert. Everyone had a past. He would bet Mrs. Pennyworth not only had a past, but something onerous that she was reluctant to share.
She returned her attention to him. “Very well, if you must know, the answer is no, I have not lived in London my entire life. I was raised in a small village that I left when I was old enough to find my own way in the world.”
Acceding to her discomfort, he merely nodded his acknowledgment. There were easier ways to pry information from someone, and it appeared he needed to use those skills on his client, who was obviously not forthcoming. That alone should give him reason to bow out of the investigation.
However, he was not one to give up on an assignment, although he reminded himself to be careful of the strong attraction between them. Right now, he had the urge to reach across the space dividing them, haul her into his arms, and plop her rounded bottom on his lap.
The vehicle came to a stop. “We are approaching your house. I will arrive promptly at ten in the morning to accompany you to St. Jerome’s.” If it was not bad manners to roll one’s eyes, he was sure Mrs. Pennyworth would have done so. A slight grin tugged at his lips as he opened the door and stepped out of the carriage. Tu
rning, he took her hand and helped her out of the vehicle.
Once they arrived at her doorstep, he gave her a slight bow. “Until tomorrow.”
“Do you need the carriage?”
“No. The omnibus will suit me just fine.” Feeling as though he needed to settle her ruffled feathers, he said, “Please understand that anything I do, or ask, is to further my investigation. It is quite possible someone from your past, especially since you have not been in London your entire life, has now arrived and decided to gain your attention. Just think on what I said, and if there is anyone who you think might be behind this, let me know.”
She still looked uncomfortable, and eager to enter her house. With a tug on the brim of his hat, he turned and made his way down the steps. The short walk to the omnibus gave him time to consider what had happened at the card party, in the carriage on the ride home, and his upcoming trip with Charlotte to St. Jerome’s.
Mrs. Pennyworth was turning out to be as much of a mystery as her problem.
…
Once a criminal, always a criminal.
Charlotte closed the door and leaned against it, her hands still shaking, and her knees barely holding her up. Elliot’s words from the other day echoed through her mind. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t she considered if she hired an investigator he would want to know her background? Of course, he would assume someone from her past could be the person they sought.
With a heavy sigh, she removed the pin from her hat and pulled it off her head. Beatrice hurried down the corridor, a bright smile on her young face. “Here, let me take those from you, ma’am.”
Charlotte shrugged out of her pelisse and allowed Bridget to take that and her hat from her. “Please inform Cook that I would like a light supper in about an hour or so. But now I would like some tea. I will be in the drawing room.”
The drawing room was her sanctuary. This room was where she wrote her correspondence, read her books, and embroidered. She felt secure inside these walls. All her pictures, knick-knacks, and decorations anchored her, reminding her she had a home of her own, where she could escape from the rest of the world.
The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth Page 7
