The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth

by Callie Hutton

  “What are you thinking?” He placed his hand on hers to stop the movement of the cloth.

  “Why?”

  “Because you have a wonderful smile on your face. Content. Happy. I wish I could put that smile on your face forever.”

  “And how would you do that?” Her hand continued smoothing the cloth over his skin when he released her and reached up to touch her chin.

  “I would start by doing whatever it takes to end this nightmare you’ve been thrust into.” His hand snaked around the back of her neck and tugged her head down. Once they were only inches apart, he whispered, “When that was resolved, I would put an even bigger smile on your lips.”

  Her mouth dried up, and she stared into his piercing eyes. “How?”

  “Like this.” Then his fevered lips covered hers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What do you mean you missed?” M growled at the distasteful man lounging in the doorway. “I paid you to get rid of him. You assured me it was not a hard assignment.”

  “Da bloke moved.”

  “He moved! What the devil does that mean? Did you expect him to walk up to you and hold out his arms, waiting for you to shoot?”

  “No. I ’ad im in my sights. I pulled ’he rigger jus as ’e turned back ‘o say sumpin ’o ’he lady. I ’it ’is arm instead ov ’is ’eart.”

  “You should have shot him again.” The numbskull was not worth the skin that covered his pathetic body. Why were there so many dimwits in the world?

  “If you ’hink ’is all so cushy ’o do, why don you do-i yourself?” The man, who had introduced himself as Mr. Evans, pushed himself away from the doorway, and moved into the room, standing not two feet away.

  “Perhaps I should have done it myself. Whatever beating you gave him, it didn’t dissuade him from leaving the lady alone. Now you’ve put him on guard with your mishap.” M pounded a fist on the arm of the chair. “One more chance. I will give you one more chance.”

  “Is ’at righ’?” His cockney accent was a reminder that he was not someone to push around. “An ’hen wha?”

  “I won’t pay you.”

  He grinned, gaps in his smile where teeth were missing. “You’ll pay me, all righ. Righ’ now, you’ll pay me. An ’hen I’m done wit you. Is bad luck ’o ’ry an kill a chap a second ’ime. ’E’ll be on guard.”

  M disliked not being in control. However, in retrospect, it was probably better to pay the cretin and let him go. Anne’s Mr. Baker didn’t matter. The end was coming, anyway. The last package would be delivered soon, and it would serve as a strong message to Anne that she had been a very bad girl, and M would no longer put up with her antics. It was time for her to come home and resume her proper place. No more watching her from afar, or being close to her, touching her, smelling her, feeling her delicate skin, without bringing her to her knees.

  To suffer like M had been suffering from her defection. Soon, my Anne. Soon.

  …

  It had been a long week of fever-thrashing, gallons of beef broth, and numerous changes of bandages. Elliot was sick to death of bedrest, and frustrated at not bringing the case to a conclusion.

  No more packages had arrived, and Charlotte had agreed to remain home while he was recovering. He had not notified Scotland Yard of the shooting. This was his matter to clear up, and that was precisely what he would do.

  “Are we feeling a bit better this morning?” Charlotte sailed into the room, carrying a tray.

  “We will be feeling quite the thing if that is anything but beef broth and bread.” He nodded at the tray she set down on the table alongside his bed. His mouth began to water at the smell of eggs and bacon, along with toast, a hunk of cheese, fruit, and a pot of tea. “Real food?” He grinned at her, feeling like a lad who was just offered a second biscuit.

  “Yes. Dr. Sanford left instructions with Cook when he departed last evening that you are ready for something more substantive in your diet.”

  Wincing just a bit, as he shifted and swung his legs over the side of the bed, Elliot eyed the food eagerly. With his good hand, he picked up the toast and took a bite, moaning. “Heaven.”

  Charlotte took the opportunity to tuck a large cloth napkin under his chin.

  “I’m only allowing you to do that because I am otherwise taken up with this wonderful food. I am not a slobbering old man, nor a babe not yet out of the nursery.”

  “No, you are not. But, you are incapacitated with the use of only one hand.” While she lectured him, she cut up his eggs and bacon and poured tea into his cup, adding a dollop of cream and a bit of sugar.

  “I am also ready to get out of this bed.”

  Charlotte stared at him, her lips pursed. “I’m not too sure about that. Between the loss of blood and the days of fever, you are most likely without your normal strength.”

  In that she was correct, as much as he hated to admit it. Even to himself. He’d been managing to attend to his own personal needs for two days now, but each time he’d ambled across the room to the chamber pot behind the screen, the weakness he suffered discouraged him. But then, again, if he remained lollygagging in bed any longer, he would never recover his strength. Of course, having real food would help a great deal.

  “Won’t you join me?”

  Charlotte settled in the chair next to the table. “I’ve already broken my fast, but I will have a bit of tea with you.”

  She looked charming this morning, in a white and deep rose striped gown, high-necked and long-sleeved. Despite being so covered, the form-fitting dress outlined her bountiful breasts and small waist. The skirts were drawn toward the back to form a small bustle, and at the same time delineated her flat stomach and generous hips. All in all, she presented a delectable image of a woman at her best.

  He continued to enjoy the first real food he’d had in more than a week while he watched her graceful hands fix her tea, stir the liquid, then raise the teacup to her lips to take a sip. So engrossed was he in this last part that he’d stopped his fork halfway to his mouth and stared, his mouth agape.

  “What?” She returned the cup to the saucer and smiled at him. He’d been a guest in her home for a week, but they’d spent very little time together that did not involve her nursing him. Now that he was feeling more himself, he became very much aware of the fact that he sat, only partially clothed, on a bed, and this lovely, enticing woman was a mere few feet from him.

  Through force of habit, with days of him feverish, the door to the room remained closed. No one would wonder what was going on between the two of them with him delirious for much of the time.

  He was certainly not delirious now, and his cock reminded him it had been quite some time since he’d enjoyed any bed sport. Right now, the only woman he wanted in bed, under him, naked and panting, was the very prim-looking Mrs. Pennyworth, no longer as relaxed as she had been while she studied him over the rim of her teacup.

  “Nothing in particular.” The untruthful answer to her question slipped easily from his lips. “I am just appreciating how lovely you look this morning.” He returned to his breakfast, satisfying one appetite while another remained unsated.

  “If you are truly feeling up to it, Dr. Sanford suggested a walk in the fresh air might do you good. Once Thomas has helped you with washing and dressing, I thought we might take the carriage to Hyde Park, and stroll for a while along the Serpentine.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea. As generous as your hospitality has been, I am quite anxious to leave this room.” He finished eating and pulled the blasted napkin from his chin, chagrined to see spots of egg and tea on it.

  Charlotte stood and took the tray. “I will send Thomas up, and then we shall go.”

  He watched her leave the room, knowing the time was coming when they would have to speak about this attraction between them. Her flushes and fidgeting when they were together told him she was well aware of it.

  Of course, he must find the culprit leaving the infernal items. So far, there had b
een no pattern. No certain day, no certain event preceding the arrival of the leavings. At present, the only way to find the man behind this was to catch the delivery person and either get the information directly from him, or follow him.

  Twice, now, he’d been targeted for physical harm. The first time had seemed to be a warning of sorts, but this time the suspect had meant business. Had he not turned back to speak to Charlotte, he would be a dead man.

  He would have to be very careful on their walk around the park. It was heavily visited, and so far, both attacks had been at night. But since they were obviously dealing with a demented individual, he would need to protect both himself and Charlotte from harm.

  The frustration was growing. Who the devil was this man, and what did he hope to accomplish?

  …

  Charlotte left Elliot’s room with the tray, the dishes practically wiped clean. She was surprised he hadn’t licked the plates. The poor man must have been starving. She would have to make sure all his meals in the future were substantial.

  “Thomas, please see to Mr. Baker’s needs. He will be joining me on a ride to the park, so he will need to be fully dressed.” She brought the tray to the kitchen and returned to her bedroom to fetch her reticule, pelisse, and bonnet. With some time on her hands before Elliot would be ready, she settled in the library with the intention of catching up on her correspondence.

  Instead of dealing with the stack of letters and invitations sitting on her desk, she found herself standing in front of the window, admiring the last of the withering autumn flowers. Soon the garden would lay dormant, all the leaves would be gone from the trees, and winter would be upon them.

  Would her tormentor be caught before then? Once again, her tired mind went through her list of friends and acquaintances, trying to ascertain who among them would do such a dastardly thing. No matter how hard she tried, she could not say with certainty that this man, or that man, was the offender.

  While she was wrangling with that problem, she considered another one, more likely to change her life—her and Elliot. The mere thought of him brought a smile to her face, and a warmth to her body. Being so close to him this past week had done nothing to dissuade her from the fact that she was beginning to fall in love with him. But where would that lead?

  She closed her eyes and imagined a life with a man whose work was dangerous. How would she deal with worrying every minute he was not at her side that he was hurt, bleeding, dead? She shivered. No. That would not work. She had lived that horror before and would not do it again.

  Unaware that she’d spent so much time pondering her life while watching autumn die outside her window, she was startled when the door to the library opened.

  “Good morning once again.” Elliot strolled into the room. Except for the sling that held his arm steady, he looked perfectly ordinary. Thomas had made the trip to Elliot’s rooms the day after the shooting and had packed up enough of his things to make his recovery at her house comfortable.

  “Are we ready for our ride to the park?” He moved closer to her, a slight smile on his face. She’d been so busy admiring him, she stood like a statue. Fresh from his bath, his hair was still damp. Thomas had done an excellent job of turning him out. Elliot was freshly shaven, and his clothes did not hang off him, even though he had eaten so little the past week.

  “Yes, I am ready.” She crossed the room, picking up her bonnet, reticule, and pelisse on the way toward the door. Thomas took her things from her hands and held out her pelisse. She placed the bonnet on her head and viewed herself in the mirror next to the front door, as she tucked away the few curls that had already escaped her bun.

  Thomas opened the door, and she and Elliot made their way down the steps to the waiting carriage. Elliot seemed a bit on edge, and he surveyed the area as they descended. He noticeably relaxed once they were settled inside. Having been attacked twice now while working for her, no doubt he felt a bit skittish in public for the first time. “Now that I think upon it, maybe a stroll in the park is not a good idea.”

  Elliot shook his head. “Charlotte, I cannot hide in your house forever. I must go about my business.”

  “Does that mean we should resume our social life?” She had to admit she was very tired of staying at home. She hadn’t realized how much of a social person she was until her activities were curtailed. Even in her mourning, once she’d overcome her grief, she’d visited St. Jerome’s and had attended small gatherings.

  “Which brings me to an idea I had on how we can rid ourselves of this menace.”

  She leaned forward, hopeful. “Indeed?”

  “The vicar has been eliminated, and nothing leads me to continue considering Von Braun. But the fact that Talbot is left-handed, and keeps spiders—nasty creatures that they are—puts him in the forefront of our suspects.”

  “I understand your reasoning, and maybe it’s simply wishful thinking, since he was such a great friend to Mr. Pennyworth, but it is hard for me to imagine him tormenting me in this way. Also, what motivation could he have for doing this?”

  “My dear, it is hard to imagine anyone having a logical reason to leave despicable things on a woman’s front steps, but he does seem somewhat, shall we say, possessive of you? Almost as if, since he was your late husband’s friend, he feels entitled to inherit you?”

  “Inherit? I am not a pile of money, or a box of trinkets that one bequeaths to a friend.”

  “No. But he might feel as though he has the right to step into Mr. Pennyworth’s shoes.” He hesitated for a moment, studying her. “Or his bed.”

  She shook her head furiously. “Oh, no. I could never think of him in that way.” Good heavens, the thought of sexual congress with Mr. Talbot almost brought up her breakfast. “Anyway, how would sending these horrible things to me equate into him receiving my affections? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense to either you or me, because we are sane, logical people. Our tormentor, whether it is Talbot or not, doesn’t think the way normal people do.” He leaned back on the seat and studied her. “Perhaps he believes if he frightens you enough, you will turn to him as you said you did after Mr. Pennyworth died.”

  “But I haven’t told anyone about the packages.”

  “Precisely. Which could account for the items growing more sinister. If he is our man, he is hoping you will receive something that is so horrible, you will have to seek someone’s help, and to his way of thinking, that someone should be him.”

  Charlotte sighed. “I really, really hate this. I hate not knowing what will show up next, which one of my friends might be devious enough to do this to me, and when it will all end.” As her voice cracked at the end, she turned and looked out the window, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Charlotte, come here.” Elliot’s low voice filled the small space. When she didn’t move but kept staring out the window, blinking furiously to avoid the tears threatening to fall at any moment, he added, “With only one good arm, I can’t drag you over here, so I will ask again that you come here.”

  Taking a deep breath, she stood and moved next to him. He grinned. “On my good side, if you will, please.”

  She gave him a wobbly grin and switched sides. He immediately put his arm around her and drew her against his chest. “I have a plan that’s been meandering around in my brain while I lay in bed waiting for this cursed injury to heal.”

  “A plan?” She wiped the corners of her eyes.

  “Yes, all the details have not been worked out in my mind just yet, but since everything points to Talbot, I am planning something that will make him show his hand. If it works, I can confront him, and with the attack from a couple of weeks ago, along with the recent shooting—which, by the way, the police tend to frown upon—I should be able to get him to confess and send him off to Scotland Yard to never bother you again.”

  Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder. “I want so very much for this all to be over.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He
brushed the hair off her forehead. “As do I.”

  Once again, she thought of returning to the peacefulness of her old life. But could she resume life the way it had been before the strong feelings that had developed between her and Elliot? Before he’d brushed the hair from her forehead and called her sweetheart?

  On the other hand, was it possible this was just a job to him? Would he have no compunction in walking away when the case was resolved, and Mr. Talbot behind bars? Would he then move onto the next assignment, never to see her again, since perhaps these feelings were in her imagination? Did she want them to be only on her side, so she would not be tempted to give her heart once more to a man who might one day disappear from her life, leaving her a widow again?

  The bother of these questions left her weary and confused. Always being on alert for the next package and its gruesome offerings had taken a toll on her nerves.

  She pushed all of it away. It was a beautiful autumn day, the sun was shining, and the park would be lovely. She had a handsome man to stroll the Serpentine with, and that was sufficient for now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elliot pulled Charlotte closer to him. She fit perfectly against his side. A bit too perfectly. Although, the time had probably come for him to make up his mind.

  Did he want to put aside his suspicions that Charlotte was hiding something, and jump in with both feet? Lying in bed in her house had given him thoughts not too easily dismissed. She’d nursed him diligently and had even visited him in the middle of the night in her nightclothes when his fever was high.

  He’d been uneasy since his fever had ended, because now every time she came near him, he wanted to grab her by the waist, and haul her on top of his frustrated body.

  The carriage paused just inside the gates to the park. Charlotte pulled away and fussed with her clothing. Bones opened the door, and Elliot stepped out, turning to help Charlotte out of the coach. A slight breeze picked up her skirts, giving him a glimpse of her half boots and part of her lovely leg.