Lady Penelope's Christmas Charade, a Regency Romance

by Lilia Birney

  Emma nodded slowly, pulling away from Penelope. “Yes, I do. Who are you?”

  “I am Lady Annand, Cicely’s employer,” Penelope butted in, assuming control of the conversation as she always did. “Cicely went missing and I haven’t been able to find her. Do you know where she is?”

  Emma’s eyes widened as she took in Penelope’s daring frock and dyed hair. “You mean, you’re Lady Annand?”

  “Yes.” Pierce jumped in, wresting back control of the situation. “I am Pierce Howe, a professional thief-taker. Lady Annand hired me to track Cicely down. We have tried every way we could to find her, and my investigation led us to you, and hence, this party. Do you know where Cicely is?”

  Emma’s eyes darted back and forth between Pierce and Penelope, as though she were trying to gauge if they were telling the truth. “Is Cicely in trouble?”

  “That’s what we want to know,” Penelope put in smoothly. “She is a dear girl and it is not at all like her to go off missing like this. I am worried about her.” She took Emma’s hands in hers. “Please, if you know anything about her, you must let us know.”

  Emma nodded, pursing her lips. “She came with me as I was seeking employment. I hear that the Barclay Agency helped young girls find good positions in gentry homes. But when we arrived, we found it quite different from what I had imagined.” She darted a glance over at Pierce, her cheeks turning pink. “But, I needed the money and I was not opposed to earning a living in that manner. Cicely was horrified and told me I could find better employment with you, Lady Annand.”

  “It’s true,” Penelope burst out. Pierce shushed her with a warning finger. After all, they were quite near to discovering the truth.

  “Cicely was offered a position but she said she already had a good job with you, Lady Annand. She only came with me because I didn’t want to go alone. As far as I know, she left that day and went back to her position with you.”

  “She didn’t.” Penelope’s emerald eyes were sparkling with frustrated tears. “If she didn’t stay at the Barclay, where did she go?”

  “If she didn’t return to you, then it may be that she went off with her young man,” Emma supplied helpfully. “She was that taken with him, and they had spoken of marriage before.”

  “He hasn’t seen her.” Penelope’s voice trembled dangerously. He could not bear for her to cry.

  “If Cicely didn’t go with you, and wasn’t with her young man, then where would she go?” Pierce demanded, seizing control once more. Surely this girl knew something about it. Surely she had some idea.

  Emma shook her head slowly. “I can only think of one thing. Whenever someone in our family takes sick, we go to visit Aunt Bea in the country. She has an old tumbledown cottage on the outskirts of the village. It’s possible that Cicely went to see Aunt Bea.”

  “Very well.” Pierce nodded briskly, extending his hand to help her off the settee. “Which village is that?”

  “We all grew up in Dunstable.” Emma accepted his hand and allowed herself to be pulled onto her feet. “Aunt Bea lives on the edge of the village. Ask anyone, and they can tell you how to find her home.”

  Pierce glanced over at Penelope, whose anxious face and bright eyes revealed her disappointment. “It seems there is a trip to Dunstable in our future.”

  She plucked at her shawl, nodding sadly, but for once said nothing.

  Pierce showed Emma to the door. “Don’t breathe a word of what we’ve spoken of to your employer.” He withdrew a five pound note from his waistcoat pocket and pressed it into her hands. “We do not want our identities to be revealed.”

  Emma nodded and tucked the money into the fichu at her neck.

  Penelope leapt up from the settee, dashing after them. “Emma, do you want to come with us? I would gladly give you a place in my employ. Any relative of Cicely’s is welcome in my home.”

  Emma smiled sadly—an expression that made her appear suddenly jaded and worldly-wise, aging her by a good ten years. “No, thank you, your ladyship. I know that Lord Adam is a bounder but I cannot help myself. I would rather be here with him, and stay by his side until he no longer wants me.”

  With that, Emma turned on her heel and left, and with her, the last hopes of finding Cicely in Derbyshire.

  ***

  Penelope pressed her lips together to still their trembling. It would never do to lose face in front of Pierce, who always seemed so calm and so collected, and who took this grave disappointment as a matter of course. But the surge of disappointment that flooded her being simply would not be stilled. She was so sure they would find Cicely as soon as they found Emma. And now, they merely had established that Cicely wasn’t at this dreadful party in Derbyshire. More rabbit trails to chase. It seemed they never would reach the end.

  “It seems no light skirt I meet needs rescuing,” she finally admitted, trying to sound cheerful. “I feel badly for that gel. Lord Adam will toss her aside for sure.”

  Pierce nodded. “I must agree. There is no future in that relationship.”

  He sounded so…so sad, even. Penelope affected cheerfulness again. “But then, many’s the time a commoner has fallen for gentry and been disappointed. She should guard her heart.”

  Pierce’s head snapped up. “Is it only the difference in their situations that dooms their relationship, my lady?”

  Penelope’s stomach dropped at his tone. Why did he sound so serious? “I suppose so.”

  He nodded, his eyes raking over her. “I see. I would have thought it was Lord Adam’s odious personality that will end that affair.”

  She turned away from him, back towards the mantel. They had waded into deeper waters than she was prepared for, and she needed to break his hold on her. “I don’t know, Pierce, all I can say is I expected more from that interview than an admission of undying love for Cavendish.”

  “Penelope, I know you are disappointed, but take heart.” Pierce’s warm baritone rumbled in her ear. Heavens, how he crept up on her—it was most unnerving. “We will find her. I must say I am glad we didn’t find her here, among such sordid company.”

  Penelope shivered at the tickle of his warm breath in her ear. “May we leave now and go to Dunstable?”

  “No.”

  The single word dropped like a stone. Penelope turned and glanced up at him, unsure she had heard aright.

  “Why not?” Her voice sounded petulant and demanding, even to her own ears, but she could not hide her emotions.

  Pierce’s face grew dark and shuttered. He was hiding something. “I need to investigate a bit more, Penelope. Something about this place isn’t right, and I intend to find out more.”

  “But Pierce, how much longer do we need to stay here?” Every moment longer in this place was a moment away from their goal. And it was also unbearable to be in such close quarters with Pierce, and unable to do anything about it because of his stupid scruples.

  “Give me at least one night, Penelope,” he asked. “I shall dine with the gentlemen tonight and see what comes of it. Perhaps I can find the answers I seek with just one large brandy and some cigars with the fellows.”

  “What are you seeking?” Penelope edged closer, staring him full in the eye. She wanted to know the truth. Surely his strange behavior was all interlinked somehow, beginning with the night that he had sneaked off after making love to her in the carriage. “Perhaps I can help.”

  He took a step backward. “No. I don’t see how you can assist, Penelope, when I myself don’t know what I am seeking.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Stay up here and twiddle my thumbs while you have a drinking party with the boys?”

  “No, of course not. If you want to dine with the ladies, you may. Or I can have them send you dinner on a tray. You seemed quite fatigued earlier, so you may wish to retire early.”

  Anger flared up in her being, replacing the bitter disappointment. So he wasn’t going to be honest with her. He was going to keep dangling her on a string, so that she told him everything
there was to know about her, while he remained a mystery. And he would keep haunting her dreams every night, frustrating her to no end while refusing to touch her. That was Pierce. High-handed, frustrating, and so in control of everything.

  Very well. She would let him have his one night and then they would strike out for Dunstable the next day. Come hell or high water, she would find Cicely and then she would be done with Pierce and his domineering ways.

  Her heart sank a bit, but she lifted her chin. “You’ve got one night.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time Pierce descended to the dining-room, the gentlemen were all thoroughly in their cups. A general roar of merriment echoed down the hallway as they sang the bawdiest drinking songs they could muster, and thumped their glasses on the table. Pierce paused just outside the doorway and ruffled his hair while loosening his cravat. He’d have to stay sober and keep his wits about him to get the information he sought. And that information was simple. How was the Barclay connected to the Gilded Lily? Once he knew, he could turn everything he knew over to the Runners and they would leave him in peace.

  Thank heavens Penelope had elected to stay upstairs. He’d be too worried about protecting her from these thoroughly soused lechers, and would likely miss the opportunity to extract the information he so desperately needed.

  He burst into the room to a chorus of loud jeers. Lord Adam stood, laughing at his arrival. “My good fellows, this blackguard is a friend of Blake’s. But the stingy bastard brought his own redheaded amusement and won’t share with the rest of the hunting party.”

  A loud chorus of boos rained down upon Pierce. He lurched as though thoroughly foxed and found a seat at the table. He waved his hands helplessly and laughed uproariously. “Since when has a fellow had to share all his sweetmeats?”

  The general bellowing reached its normal volume once more, no longer directed at him, but just surging along as the gentlemen poured drinks and ate prodigious amounts of food—fuel, no doubt, for later that evening when they would all go join the ladies for some sport. He chewed the inside of his cheek in sudden frustration. He was not allowing himself any temptations on this trip, was he? No drinking at dinner, no Penelope afterwards. What a fool he was.

  He turned to his left hand neighbor, a young buck who was drinking wine out of one glass and brandy out of another. “You’ll make yourself sick, my lad,” he warned in a slurred tone. “Best to stick to one or t’other.”

  “That’s what my father said about my wife and my wench,” the buck replied charmingly, with a shout of laughter.

  Pierce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was most difficult to stomach drunks when one couldn’t imbibe as well.

  “So, where’s your little bit of stuff?” The young buck eyed him expectantly. “Too fine to share?”

  “We have an understanding,” Pierce replied. This was an easy enough way to get to the heart of the matter. “Borrowed her from the Barclay. She’s only mine—that’s what I agreed to.”

  “Ah, well then. The Barclay. She’s a fine bit o’ muslin at that, I suppose. I can’t afford the gels at the Barclay. Have to get them myself off the street, or else my man does. I must say, it’s jolly sporting of Cavendish to share.” The buck took another long draught of brandy. “But then, he can well afford to.”

  Pierce nodded. “He is a rich bastard, at that.”

  “No, not that.” His companion explained in irritation. “He owns the Barclay, you idiot. That’s how he can have these parties, and invite these young women to join us. He owns them all, lock stock and barrel.”

  Ah, so that made sense. If Cavendish owned the Barclay, he likely had a stake in the Gilded Lily as well.

  “I see,” he muttered, pretending disinterest.

  “Don’t believe me? Ask him yourself.” The young buck pushed his chair away with a sudden scrape. “I’ve got to go toss up my accounts.”

  “Go—go.” Pierce pushed him towards the door. He couldn’t bear the smell and sight of that stupid young cub getting sick all over the floor.

  With his companion gone, he was free to stake out Cavendish. He poured the contents of his glass surreptitiously in a potted plant, and sought his host’s company at the head of the table. Just how drunk was Cavendish? Judging by the way he couldn’t hold himself straight, the man was sloshed. There was no need for discretion. Likely he wouldn’t even remember their conversation in the morning.

  “What ho, Lord Adam. Got to thank you for the Barclay. Fine agency, that.” He filled his host’s glass to the brim. “Found several pretty gels through your agency.”

  “You’re damn right it’s good,” Cavendish replied, thumping his clenched fist on the table. “Finest establishment in London, you know. Now that I’ve taken over the Lily, it will be even better. A steady supply of pretty young things, all brought in fresh and innocent.”

  So that was it. Not only did Cavendish own the Barclay, he had an interest in the Lily as well. That’s why the Runners were getting nowhere. With all his power and privilege, Cavendish was likely blocking every move they made to shut him down.

  “Not too fresh and innocent, eh, Cavendish?” He nudged his host with his elbow and waited.

  “Ah, well. Not our fault some chits lie about their age. Why should we be held accountable? As long as they’re willing, why should it matter?” Cavendish’s face was flushed a dark purple. Obviously, even when drunk, this conversation was still striking a nerve. Pierce tamped down his temper, waiting a moment before speaking.

  “Yes, I agree. If they are willing, it shouldn’t matter.” It was damned hard to push the words out of his mouth, but he managed it. “But what if they aren’t willing—what then? I mean to say, have you ever had to, well, coerce the young ladies?”

  “I haven’t. Never. Not saying someone in my employ hasn’t, but I can’t be held responsible for their actions, you know. Usually as soon as some chit knows she has a chance to lay for me, she’s only too willing.”

  Pierce swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “Lucky man.”

  Cavendish winked broadly and drained the last bit of his cup. “Wealth and power are very attractive, you know.” He stopped a moment, and shook his head rapidly. “Wait. Who the devil are you again?”

  Pierce flicked a glance around the room, picking out the only person he recognized—barely—from his work as a thief-taker. “Oh, I am Banks, don’t you remember?”

  His host rubbed his eyes. “Guess I am more soused than I thought.”

  Time to go, before everything fell apart. He had the information he needed, and it was enough to get the Runners off his back. “Better go. I have someone waiting.”

  Cavendish smiled. The only thing that ever seemed to run through his mind—fornication, and how to get it, and how to get more—was sure to derail his conversation. “Get to it, lad,” he said.

  With that, Pierce left the dining room. With any luck, Penelope would still be awake. He wanted to see her again. Not do anything more than that. He promised himself he wouldn’t even touch her, or take advantage of her in this atmosphere. But he craved her smiles, the light in her emerald eyes, the sweet scent of peaches and gardenias that enveloped her wherever she went.

  The young buck was being sick on the stairs as Pierce ran up them two at a time. He stopped a servant on his way up and asked him to take care of his sick informant, more out of pity for the fine Aubusson carpet than for the gentleman himself.

  He let himself into his suite, but the room was dark save for a few embers glowing on the hearth. He paused inside the doorway, allowing his eyes to get used to the dark. When he could pick out the shapes of the furniture, he felt his way through the bedroom into the sitting room next door. In there, the fire had been stirred up and kept blazing, while a tub of steaming water waited.

  Penelope must have ordered him a bath before she retired. What a woman. A hot bath was just the way to soak his frustration away before spending a night on the settee, twisting and turning and trying
to forget the beautiful woman who lay just beyond.

  He stripped off his clothing and sank gratefully into the warm water. It was impossible not to get aroused. He had spent the past several days abiding by his own rules, and he had done everything he wanted to do. He got the information he needed, and he found a new trail to track down to find Cicely. And now that he was alone—save, of course, for Penelope sleeping next door—he could finally give in to his baser emotions. Those baser emotions that had plagued him for the duration of this trip.

  He lathered himself all over, scrubbing his hair and his body. He couldn’t resist the urge to soap himself all over his member, rubbing and squeezing until he stood up stiffly. Bloody hell, it was nothing to being with Penelope, but it was the next best thing. He could wait no longer. He needed a release, damn it. He stood up and got out of the tub, drying himself off near the fire.

  ***

  Penelope’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She could pretend to sleep no longer. Like any brazen hussy, she wanted to see Pierce as he bathed. She didn’t care a fig for his rules. If he didn’t want to touch her because he wanted to prove something to himself, that was his business. But she didn’t have to abide by his rules. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the doorway.

  Heavens above, Pierce was a well-made man. She peered through the crack in the doorjamb as he climbed out of the large copper washtub, water streaming in rivulets down his muscled back and legs. He wrapped himself in a large Turkish towel. How frustrating. She could no longer see the most interesting part of him. Still, he was beautiful to behold.

  Pierce rubbed himself with the towel, and then, as he dried the more private areas of his being, slowly wrapped his large hand around his member. Even under the bulk of the towel, she could discern that he had grown and stiffened all at once. Pierce’s eyes were closed. He hadn’t spied her yet. Should she say anything? If she did, he might stop.

  The towel fell to the floor, unheeded, as Pierce worked back and forth along his member, his head thrown back, and a slight grimace crossing his handsome face. My goodness, he was certainly big—when he was quite aroused as he was now, his member stood out well above his navel. Dampness gathered in the place between her legs. It had been too long since they had been together, and surrounded as they were by couples lovemaking in every conceivable nook and cranny of this large old house, the tension and craving for indulgence was nigh unbearable.