Pulling his thoughts from that dangerous path, he said, “We continue on as before. Mr. Drovers believes whoever wrote the note that came with the flowers is left-handed, but wrote the note with his right hand.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath and paled. “Mr. Talbot is left-handed.”
“Is he, now? That’s interesting. Whoever it was, he was attempting to disguise his handwriting.” More than interesting, in fact. But then again, they had no reason to believe the flowers were in any way connected to the other packages. Though, given what Elliot had noticed of Mr. Talbot’s behavior, the man did seem to have a tendre for Charlotte.
“He also made some observations on both Von Braun and the vicar’s personalities that makes me believe they need to remain on our suspect list.”
He placed his empty teacup on the table and leaned back, resting his foot on his bent knee. “We will continue appearing together at various functions until someone slips up.” Seeing the distressed expression on her face, he moved to the edge of his seat, taking her cold hand in his. “Trust me.”
…
Trust me.
Charlotte cringed at his words, trying hard to hide her mistrust. She had trusted Lord Barton to be a good employer, and he’d made false charges against her after she’d refused to warm his bed. She had trusted Gabriel with her heart and her happiness, and his recklessness had let her down.
Trust another man? With her very life?
“Here now, I think it’s time you finished up yer visit.” Mrs. Murray bustled into the room, a frown on her round face.
Charlotte stood, embarrassed at the necessity for the woman to remind her. “I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Murray, you are right. It is time for me to take my leave.”
Elliot stood and helped the landlady gather up the tea things. As she rolled the cart from the room, Elliot reached out and stopped Charlotte. “When is your next social engagement?”
She placed her cape around her shoulders and fastened it at the neckline. “Tomorrow evening. I accepted an invitation for both of us to the Milford’s dinner party. But you cannot go like that.”
He shook his head. “No. But I do not want you to go alone. Things have taken a turn down a path that makes me uncomfortable.”
Charlotte had never been a ninnyhammer, but the idea of someone so enamored of her that he would hire a criminal to hurt the man she had employed to act as her escort was a frightening situation. This entire matter had gone from annoying, to fearsome, to downright dangerous. “I believe you are correct. I will send a note offering our regrets.”
Noticing Mrs. Murray lingering at Elliot’s doorstep, she pulled on her gloves and headed out of the room.
“Send a note with your future engagements, and I will let you know when I will be able to attend.” Looking as if he would like to do more than stand by the table where they’d shared tea, Elliot gave her a warm smile and a quick wink instead.
Her last glance at his bare chest peeking out from under his banyan was a powerful reminder why Mrs. Murray found it necessary to tap her foot as Charlotte breezed by. “Good day, Mrs. Murray.”
She climbed into her carriage and leaned back with a sigh. Elliot had looked awful. He had taken quite a beating at her expense. He’d tried to slough it off, but the turn of events was worrisome. The guilt she felt at the injuries he’d sustained nearly crippled her. She should stop the nonsense now by selling her house and moving far away. Maybe even to the continent. Surely whoever was plaguing her would not travel to another country to pursue her.
If she moved, she could always make new friends. Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed out the window at the shoppers going peacefully about their lives. Something she’d had since her escape from Lord Barton, but hadn’t truly appreciated.
All she wanted in life was to be left alone. To have friends, social engagements, and a quiet life.
Of course, if her attraction to Elliot Baker continued, her life would not be as peaceful as she’d planned. The man certainly raised her temperature. And the sight of his chest under that banyan still had her flapping the sides of her cloak to fan herself. After he’d held her against that warm chest, she’d felt wanting and needy.
She and Gabriel had had a pleasant, if not passionate, sex life. He had been quite patient with her virgin state, taking their first encounter slow, trying hard not to shock, or upset her. However, in their short marriage, she had wondered if there should be more to their joining, since she’d never felt as relaxed when it was over as Gabriel seemed to be. He would withdraw from her, kiss her on the cheek, roll over, and promptly fall asleep, leaving her tense and frustrated.
Her late husband had seemed to use up all his passion on racing, gambling, and drinking with his friends. As far as she knew, he had not wandered to other women’s beds, but truth be known, he had never stirred her blood the way that simple glimpse of Elliot’s chest had.
Even if she were willing to risk her heart once again, she knew Elliot had some reservations about her truthfulness. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, he believed she was hiding something from him.
I am.
However, she would continue to hide it for as long as she was convinced he would haul her off to the magistrate if he learned about her outstanding warrant. He’d been humiliated by the woman he’d had to arrest for theft. No doubt, he’d have no trouble turning her in, as well.
The carriage came to a rolling stop in front of her townhouse. She accepted Bones’s hand and stepped out of the vehicle, shaking her skirts. Just as she started up the steps, something caught her attention. She turned to the right and saw a figure rounding the corner at a rapid pace. There seemed to be something familiar about the person’s form and walk, but she could not place it.
Good heavens, this entire thing is turning me into a muddlehead.
Unable to shake off the feeling that whoever had just left the area had been there watching her house, she hurried up the steps, searching the ground for any more packages or notes.
Nothing.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she entered her house and closed the door behind her. She removed her cape and bonnet and handed them to Bridget, concerned to see her hands shaking. “Bridget, some tea to the drawing room, please.”
After only a few steps, she decided she’d had enough tea to float a ship. “Never mind, Bridget. Just let Cook know she can serve luncheon whenever it is ready. I’ll be in the drawing room.” The familiarity of her drawing room gave her some comfort, but she still felt unsettled. Despite the time of day, she walked to the library and poured herself a sherry. She chuckled softly. With all the drinking she’d been doing lately, it would serve her well to move the sideboard from the library to the drawing room.
She wandered the room, touching things, smelling the flowers in her favorite vase, fingering the embroidery she’d finally finished, a sense of peace descending at the comfort her home brought. Her sanctuary. She was safe here. She trusted her servants, there were sturdy locks on her doors, and no one could harm her here.
If only she believed it.
Chapter Twelve
September 23rd
1:00 p.m.
My Dear Mr. Baker,
It has been five days since I visited you last. Thank you for your kind note asking after my welfare. As you requested, I have not left the house, awaiting your recovery before I resume my social engagements.
I have received an invitation to dine at Sir Alfred Penrose and Lady Penrose’s home two days hence. Since that is only a short carriage ride, I believe I shall accept.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Charlotte Pennyworth
September 23rd
1:30 p.m.
Dear Charlotte,
You are not to leave the house unless I accompany you. I thought I was clear on that matter. I expect to have a full recovery soon.
Yours sincerely,
Elliot
September 23rd
2:00 p.m.
Dear Mr.
Baker,
I assume you wrote your last note while not feeling quite yourself, because I am sure you did not intend to order me about.
As much as I love my home, I am quite weary of staring at its walls. A short carriage ride with Bones protecting me would not cause a danger.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Pennyworth
September 23rd
3:30 p.m.
My Dear Charlotte,
In retrospect, perchance I was a bit out of sorts when I penned my last note. I, too, am quite discontented with staring at my own walls. Unless you wish to be squired about town with an escort who resembles a pugilist, I suggest you continue to wait a few more days until I can accompany you on your so very important social life.
Elliot
September 23rd
5:00 p.m.
Mr. Baker,
So very important social life! Yes, perhaps my social life is important to me, but that is hardly cause to demean my life.
Mrs. Pennyworth
September 24th
11 a.m.
Charlotte,
I apologize profusely. I had no call to send such a scathing note. Being cooped up in my rooms is no excuse. Please forgive me, and I will be happy to accompany you to the Penrose dinner. We are both intelligent adults, so surely we can come up with a reason for my injuries.
Warmly,
Elliot
September 24th
2 p.m.
Dear Elliot,
Thank you so much for the beautiful roses. I think we have both been somewhat irascible of late. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I have arranged with Mr. and Mrs. Murdock to pick me up and deliver me back home to the Penrose dinner tomorrow night.
Warmly,
Charlotte
…
Sick to death of sitting in his rooms, Elliot tossed aside the latest note from Charlotte, grinning at the change in her temperament. Roses generally did the trick, but in all honesty, he had been an arse. His only excuse was his confinement, the fact that he’d been taken so unaware by the attack, and that Charlotte might be in more danger than he had initially considered.
Although certainly not fit to escort a woman to a social event, there was no reason he could not visit his club. A quick look in the mirror over his shaving stand showed the scratches had healed, and the black and blue marks had faded to a sickly yellow and purple. His nose, thankfully, had not been broken in the attack, and the swelling had gone down.
Mrs. Murray had been quite attentive, bringing him soup three times a day. He still did not understand why women believed a bowl of soup cured all ills. Wrapping up against the unusually chilly day, he left his rooms and breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as London air could be. The short walk to his club did quite a bit to restore his good humor. He made sure to keep an eye on his surroundings, and anyone nearby.
He handed his coat to the man at the door and spotted Christopher Jennings across the room. He and Jennings had attended school together as youths and managed to stay in touch still. Married to his wife for several years, with three little Jennings running about his house, Jennings represented the epitome of a contented married life, something Elliot had often envied.
“What the devil happened to you?” Jennings lowered the newspaper he’d been reading, as Elliot took the seat across from him.
“A bit of a mishap.” He waved at the footman to bring him a brandy. “Those of us who do more for our living than sit behind a bank desk, run into trouble now and then.”
Always easygoing, Jennings only grinned at the insult and took a sip of his drink. “Ah, but I have three little ones at home who provide me with quite enough in the way of mishaps.”
Once again, Elliot had reason to envy Jennings his life. Soon Elliot would have to seriously consider taking a wife. The thought had always been at the back of his mind, but lately, the idea of settling down appealed more and more. More so since he’d made the acquaintance of one Mrs. Gabriel Pennyworth.
He could easily see her in the role of wife. His wife. The thought brought both pleasure and concern. Was he ready to give his heart away again?
Elliot leaned forward, the glass of brandy dangling from his fingers. “How well did you know Mrs. Jennings before you married?” He hoped he didn’t sound like a fool, but he was always the private investigator.
What he’d learned about Charlotte during conversations with her acquaintances was a bit of a surprise. It had seemed Charlotte had popped up in London almost two years ago, with no information on her prior life forthcoming. She’d been an employee of a London bank where her late husband held his accounts. From what he’d learned, they’d met, courted, married, and within weeks, she’d become a widow.
The few times he’d questioned her, she’d become flustered and uneasy. As his client, it made no difference what she was hiding, as long as it didn’t pertain to her current situation, which he firmly believed it did not. Some people were very cautious about opening themselves up and protected their private life.
On the other hand, if he were to seriously consider courting her, whatever she held firm to her bosom could become extremely important. He would not be made a fool of again by a pretty face and a charming smile.
“I met my wife through my mother, actually. Miranda and her mother were members of a sewing circle Mother belonged to. Since mothers are notorious for matchmaking—mine being no different—it was only a matter of time before Miranda and her parents were invited to dinner.”
“And what happened?”
Jennings grinned again. “We thoroughly disliked each other.”
Elliot laughed. “Why?”
“Most likely because there was a strong attraction between us, and neither of us wanted our parents to select our mate.” He leaned back and rested his foot on his bent knee. “We tried for weeks to ignore each other, but our parents made sure we were thrown together enough times that it became a chore to continue the charade.
“Eventually, we met once again at an assembly and waltzed. We did nothing the entire time but stare at each other. When the dance was over, I took her by the hand, dragged her outside, and proposed.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s about time.” They both laughed loud enough to catch the attention of a few other members who regarded them with raised eyebrows.
“That was certainly an interesting courtship.”
“Indeed, it was. We were so anxious for each other, we insisted on a wedding within weeks. When her mother complained about the rush, Miranda reminded her she had started it all.”
“And you’re happy.” It was a statement, not a question. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes in Jennings’s company knew he was happy, content, and in love.
Love.
Dare he even think of such a thing? Was he willing to take a chance again, suspecting there was something she was holding back? Of course, it could be something as simple as a spurned sweetheart.
His attention was drawn to Jennings as he stood, folded the newspaper, and placed it on the table in front of them. “Now I must pay the penance a man must in order to have a content life. Miranda becomes upset if I am not at home for the hour before dinner to inspect the little ones and listen to tales of their day.”
Elliot watched as Jennings walked across the room, his stride one of a man happy with his life, and anxious to return to it. He reached over and snatched the newspaper but soon found himself not reading the words, but instead, envisioned returning to his rooms, with no adoring wife to greet him, or little ones to climb on his lap to tell their tales of the day.
…
Charlotte tugged on her beige kid gloves as she joined Elliot at her front door. They were off to the Adelphi Theater, their first outing together since the attack. The dinner she’d attended a few days before had been nice, in that she was finally among friends again and not staring at her walls, but she’d missed him.
A startling thought, that.
&n
bsp; He looked quite dapper in his polished shoes, well-creased trousers, fine wool overcoat, and silk top hat. In fact, they made quite a pair with her rose silk gown and matching fur-lined cape and bonnet.
Elliot extended his arm, and she took it, sneaking a final glance in the entrance hall mirror at the two of them. “We look quite stylish tonight, Mr. Baker.”
He helped her down the stairs and into the awaiting carriage, holding a large umbrella over them. “Indeed, we do look dashing, Mrs. Pennyworth.” Elliot glanced around the area, before stepping into the carriage.
He tapped on the roof, and Bones began the trek to the theater. They enjoyed companionable silence on the ride to the theater. The only sound was the familiar clip-clop of the horses on the cobblestones, and the creak of the carriage wheels as they turned.
They arrived early enough to take a stroll around the theater lobby before the call to take their seats. After surrendering their outerwear to a footman, Elliot tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I understand Union Jack is quite a successful play.”
“Yes, it is. I have seen it before, but I never turn down tickets to the theater, so when Mr. Talbot offered them, I was happy to accept. Plus, I find that the various actors bring a different tone to the characters.”
“A very insightful observation, my dear.”
Charlotte loved the theater and had been thrilled when Mr. Talbot had appeared unannounced one afternoon with the tickets in hand. At first she’d been uneasy, since she had grown wary of his attentions, along with a few other men who Elliot had put on his “suspect” list. But, he had been ever the gentleman, presented the tickets, waved off her offer of tea, and bid her good day.
“It was very nice of Mr. Talbot to invite us.”
The tickets turned out to be excellent seats. Mr. Talbot had also invited Miss Garvey who insisted on sitting next to her. The woman was still a stranger to Charlotte, and there was something about her she found odd. She seemed to be a pleasant sort, though she spoke very little. Once or twice Charlotte caught her staring at her in a peculiar way. The thought crossed her mind that the woman sought Elliot’s attentions, and saw Charlotte as a rival.
The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth Page 12
