A Lady for the Taking

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  This was madness. Penny knew it now. She was being an utter fool and giving in to madness, rumor, and innuendo. Nothing more.

  She was twisted into knots over her uncle and that had her seeing ghosts where there were none. She still didn’t trust this man, and she was almost certain he knew she was planning something, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t know. No one did because her uncle had kept his plans for Lord Fullbridge, vague as they were, such a closely guarded secret.

  So there was no possible way Harry could have placed that article in the Tattler in order to force her to reveal her plans. It was absurd! Truly, it was!

  Lord above, but she was an idiot. And a babbling idiot at that.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Greer. Honestly and I beg your forgiveness.” Penny let out a long, slow breath. “As I said, I am merely out of sorts this morning. That is all.”

  Harry cocked his head to the side and just then, she was reminded of an overly eager puppy she’d had as a child. Always ready to please and do whatever it could to placate her. Except that this man was no puppy and though he might not have placed the gossip article, he was still dangerous. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

  “Is there something I might do to cheer you, my lady?” he asked earnestly. “I’m rather good at such things, you know.”

  Had Penny been free to laugh, she would have. The man was so obviously flirting with her! And had she been free to do so, she would have flirted right back. But she couldn’t. She had to walk away from him now before she did something foolish. Like risk being caught out with him by a Times reporter, for instance.

  “I do not think so, sir, but you are kind to offer.” She gestured to the shop in front of her, done up in dark purple and royal blues tones with Madame LaVallier’s signature gold leaf trim adorning the window frames. “I am merely dress shopping this morning. I plan to attend Lady Ardenton’s ball at the end of the week and I fear I need a new gown. I am hoping she has something she can make up for me rather quickly. None of mine fit properly any longer.”

  Her gowns didn’t fit because she wasn’t eating and was, therefore, losing weight, but Penny didn’t say that. Instead, she offered Harry a sunny smile and hoped he took the hint that she wished to be left alone.

  Unfortunately, he stayed directly where he was, blocking the sidewalk so that she could not continue into the shop. At least not without brushing past him and making a bit of physical contact, anyway.

  “I was unaware that you were acquainted with Gibson and Amy. Pardon me. Lord and Lady Ardenton.” Though his face remained pleasant enough, Penny had the sudden impression that this man was trying to trick her now, though trick her into what she wasn’t certain.

  “I am not,” Penny confessed deciding that the truth was better than a lie just now. “Lady Radcliffe invited me just this morning. She felt it would do me good to continue getting out of the house with my aun, er, cousin being so ill after last evening.” The invitation from the duchess had been in the morning’s post and had been a far more pleasant bit of mail to receive than the missive from her uncle.

  “I told you she was taking an interest in you.” Harry’s face relaxed and when it did, so did Penny. Perhaps he really was only protecting his friends and hadn’t noticed her minor slip-up regarding her non-existent cousin. Though she rather doubted it. “You could do much worse for a friend than Julia.”

  Penny nodded in agreement. “I am coming to think that you are correct.” Biting her lip again, she hesitated about revealing more but decided that doing so couldn’t hurt. “I have few friends, as I’m certain you’ve noticed, Mr. Greer. That Lady Radcliffe has taken such an interest in me, while surprising, is also something of a great relief.”

  Once more, at the mention of his old friend, Harry’s face softened just a fraction and Penny felt a flash of jealousy. Which was ridiculous. This man was nothing to her. So what if he held affection for Lady Julia Radcliffe? It mattered not to her! Except that perhaps it did. Which made her an even greater fool than before.

  “Julia knows what it is like to be on the fringes of Society. It is no secret that her return to London several years ago was difficult for her and she had few friends at the time. I think that perhaps she sees a kindred spirit in you.”

  “Perhaps,” Penny agreed, once more a bit in awe that this man cared so much about protecting his friends. If only someone cared that much about her, she might not be in the position she was in just now. “In any case, I enjoy Lady Radcliffe’s company immensely and am quite looking forward to the event.”

  That was true, too. Penny was looking forward to the Ardenton ball. It was a rather exclusive event attended by what many in London were beginning to refer to as the “Seldon Park Set,” meaning those friends and relations of the Bloody Duke who were routinely invited to his annual summer house party at his infamous country seat, Seldon Park, and were, in general, not on the list of people he considered his enemies. Or on the list of those he wished to kill or maim for any reason.

  Penny had never imagined she might be included in that exclusive club and she still wasn’t. Not really. This was merely a glimpse into a world she could never fully join, offered to her by a woman who likely felt sorry for her. Still, whatever the reason, Penny would attend the ball and not feel the least bit guilty. Besides, if Lord Fullbridge were to return to London for any event in the near future, it would most likely be the Ardenton Ball. So by attending, she really was still doing what her uncle had instructed.

  “Well, then I shall let you get to it.” Harry gestured to the shop just behind him.

  Penny dropped into a small curtsey, even though she knew she didn’t have to do so. She was the one with the title and not Harry. “Thank you. And again, I am sorry, Mr. Greer. I should not have accused you of planting that story. Though I have only just met you, I should have known better. You don’t seem like the sort of gentleman who would do such a thing.”

  “Apologies are not necessary, Lady Penny,” he assured her again as he turned to leave. “Though if you truly wish to make it up to me, there is one thing you can do.”

  “And what is that?” This time it was Penny who tilted her head to the side in curiosity.

  “Save a dance for me at the Ardenton ball, if you please.” He grinned at her, and despite the shock of his words, Penny felt her stomach dip all the way to her toes in the most delightful manner. “You are, by far, the best dance partner I have had in recent months. I should like another turn about the floor with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Then, with a quick tip of his hat, Harry left Penny standing on the sidewalk wondering how he had outmaneuvered her so quickly. So quickly, in fact, that she had never seen his request coming.

  She also wondered how she could avoid him in the future and decided that it probably wasn’t possible. If he wanted to find her, he would. And there was precious little she could do about it.

  Penny was in so very much trouble that again she wished the sidewalk would simply open up beneath her and swallow her whole. But it didn’t. Nor did she run away as she had dreamed about earlier. Instead, she squared her shoulders and marched into Madame LaVallier’s shop, her make-believe “maid” trailing behind. She could do this. She had to. She didn’t have any other choice.

  “How long has she been in there?” Marcus, Viscount Breckenright asked as he squinted at the shop across the street from the alley where Harry had positioned both of them earlier.

  “Nearly three hours.” He glanced over at his old friend who was leaning up against the side of the filthy building in what looked to be a considerable amount of pain. “I told you to bring your cane.”

  If Harry had been given a choice, he would have picked anyone other than the viscount with a lame leg as a partner for this particular spying mission. However, very few of his friends were available this morning and Harry had no wish to involve Bow Street – or other Runners – in what was essentially a private matter. And in truth, Marcus could be counted on in a pinch no matter h
is physical limitations, though Harry doubted any sort of physical heroics would be necessary today. Really, this was more about playing look-out and keeping him company.

  The other man snorted. “I am trying my best to go without it, if you must know. I promised Caroline that I would work more to strengthen my leg.” Then he patted a darkened area of the wall beside him. “Actually, I have my cane, just in case. Though, as I said, I’m trying not to use it. Promises, remember?”

  “You make your wife all sorts of promises you cannot keep,” Harry sighed, keeping his spyglass trained on the front window of the modiste’s shop. He could see figures moving about inside but he could not determine if any of them were Penny. He doubted it, however.

  “Wait until you are wed, my friend,” Marcus chortled gleefully, “and see how many promises you make to your wife that you know you can’t keep just to ensure her happiness.”

  That, finally, made Harry risk a glance at his friend, taking his eyes off the shop for a few moments. “We have been over this, Marcus. I will never wed. I am not the marrying kind and I would be miserable husband material.” He put his spyglass back to his eye and let out a satisfied sigh when he caught sight of Penny still standing on the pedestal in the very back of the shop when someone parted the front window’s drapes a fraction wider. “Besides, no woman would have me.”

  “You mean Lady Dory?” Marcus snorted in amusement. “No, she wouldn’t have you in a million years and we both know it. As does she. You are not for her, my friend. She is a far greater hellion than I think any of us realized. Even Frost.”

  “He’ll kill her if she stirs up too much trouble,” Harry countered, his gaze still trained on the shop. “Or lock her in her room and throw away the key. She is in it deep enough as it is.”

  “Frost?” Marcus snorted again. “Unlikely. He’s far too indulgent with all of his sisters, no matter what they do or whom they do it with. But we were not discussing Lady Dory. Rather we were discussing you and what sort of lady might be willing to wed you. Should one actually exist, mind you.”

  “And I have stated repeatedly that I will not wed.” Harry moved again to make certain Penny stayed in his line of sight as she began to move off of the pedestal, likely planning to change back into her own gown.

  “You could marry her,” Marcus offered quietly as a group of chattering women strode past, footmen and maids burdened down with packages trailing slowly behind. “I saw the way she looked at you at the ball last night. She was interested. As were you. That is a first.”

  Harry grunted. He really had no desire to discuss this with anyone, let alone Marcus. “She is suspicious of me.”

  “Considering that you are spying on her as if she is a common thief, I would say that she has a right to be,” Marcus countered. “But that doesn’t mean she also doesn’t desire you. You are not as passionless as you pretend to be, my friend. All it will take is the right woman and suddenly, things will change. Caro changed me, after all.”

  Harry clamped his lips shut rather than arguing with his friend – mostly because Marcus was right, at least in a way. In the span of one short night, Lady Penny had changed him. Somehow, someway, and for reasons Harry could not explain, she made him feel a desire hotter and more powerful than he had ever known.

  He had desired women before, but with Penny? He wanted to take her and possess her and the longer he was here, hiding in this filthy alley, spying on her? The more he wanted to march right into Madame LaVallier’s shop and kiss her as if his life depended upon it. Because just then, it felt exactly that way.

  But this feeling, peculiar as it was, would pass. Feelings such as these always did – when he had them, which was not often. They had to pass. Else Harry was afraid he might lose his mind.

  “Lady Penny Marshwood is an assignment to me, Marcus. Nothing more.” Except she could become more. If he let her. Because the mere sight of her made him burn with inexplicable need. Perhaps he was ill. That would be a more logical explanation for his odd behavior.

  Behind him, Marcus shifted and sighed. “It is perfectly fine to be human, Harry.”

  “I wasn’t aware that my humanity was up for debate.” He switched the spyglass to his other eye. Penny was gone. Likely finished with her fittings for the day. He had missed her departure from the fitting room. Damn it all anyway!

  “Do not be dense,” Marcus snapped, fishing out his cane for support and wrenching the spyglass roughly out of Harry’s hands. “I know what Dory said. We all do. But you are not boring and old, my friend. Nor are you without passion as you seem to believe. You are merely sleeping, as we all were before we met the women we were fated to wed. They woke us up. The same will happen to you, you know, likely when you are least expecting it.”

  Harry snatched the glass back, utterly annoyed, and not only because his spying had been interrupted. “I am what I am, Marcus. I am a protector. A guardian. I always have been. And I always will be. Now enough. Miss Marshwood is about to leave and I can’t lose sight of her. I need to know who she speaks with and where she goes from here if we are to protect Fullbridge.”

  Once more, Marcus sighed, though he picked up the shoulder bag full of spy equipment that Harry had insisted they bring with them. “One day, Harry, you will meet the right woman and your world will upend in an instant. I only hope that when you do, you are not too stubborn to notice when she is in front of you and all but stripping herself naked in the vain hope that you will notice her.” He nudged Harry’s shoulder. “There. Miss Marshwood is leaving. My carriage is down the block. If we hurry, we can tail her, though she is likely only returning home.”

  Pushing past him, Marcus made his way out of the dirty alley far quicker than Harry would have imagined for a man beset by so many physical ailments. Perhaps promising Caro that he would strengthen his leg was doing Marcus some good after all. He might not have been wrong about that.

  But he was wrong about Harry.

  Because Harry had already met the woman that had awakened the passions inside of him and she had somehow managed it during the space of a single waltz. And he wanted her. The more he watched her, the more he wanted her.

  Except that he couldn’t have her. Because he didn’t trust her and she didn’t trust him.

  Because they were both keeping secrets, neither of them free to be who they truly were.

  But if he was free? If he could have even a small taste of Lady Penny’s delightful lips?

  Then she wouldn’t have to strip naked in front of him to capture his attention for she would already have it. And he would pray that he had hers as well.

  Chapter Six

  Doing her best not to gawk at her surroundings, Penny scurried through the ornate theater lobby, praying that she would go unnoticed by most of the patrons. She belonged here, or at least she pretended that she did, but deep inside, she felt like an absolute fraud. Even with her new chaperone, Miss Bridget, trailing behind her, Penny still felt as if she did not quite belong amongst this glittering, sophisticated crowd and not even the presence of a respected Gray Lady could change that.

  For a brief moment, Penny almost gave in to the nearly overwhelming desire to run. The lights in the two massive chandeliers overhead were too bright. The echo of shoe and boot heels on the swirling marble floor was too loud. The gold gilt and bright red draperies that covered nearly every available surface were too overwhelming. The sounds of too many voices, all chattering at once, echoed too loudly in her mind.

  Penny was made of sterner stuff, however, and so, after taking a deep breath, she fought back the wave of panic that had welled up inside of her and instead concentrated on the enormous – and mostly naked – statue of Apollo that was centered between both sides of the sweeping grand staircase. Doing so didn’t necessarily make her feel better, but it did help her calm down, the flowing lines of the sculpture helping to somehow soothe the tumult inside of her.

  When she was finally convinced she could proceed to her theater box, Penny nodded at Miss
Bridget and released her tight grip on a nearby handrail. A handrail she hadn’t even realized she had clutched in what amounted to a death grip.

  It hadn’t even been Penny’s idea to attend the theater tonight. Rather, she had planned to attend a small musicale hosted by Lady Brambly which had been designed to showcase the talents of Lady Brambly’s four otherwise rather unremarkable daughters. Penny had never met Lady Brambly, but the viscountess was a friend of Lady Radcliffe’s, and Penny knew that the duke and duchess attended the event every year. The invitation had likely been issued at the duchess’ request.

  When Penny had returned home from Madame LaVallier’s shop, however, a second express post had been waiting for her. Even now, when she closed her eyes, Penny could still see the words written there, words that had been nearly burned into her brain.

  Penelope,

  I have it on excellent authority that Lord Fullbridge will be attending the premiere of “Othello” this evening in Drury Lane. Directions are written below, as I assume you are not familiar with the theater district. You will attend and use Lord Willfield’s private box as previously arranged. Do not allow any gentleman other than Lord Willfield’s son to enter the box, should he appear. You know your direction, and I expect you to heed it well.

  You also know the price for failure, my dear, so be sure that you do not fail. Unless, of course, you wish for Josephine to take your place.

  Best, etc.,

  Uncle Charles

  So with a heavy heart, Penny had sent her regrets to Lady Brambly as well as to Lady Radcliffe and instead instructed Janie to press not her more modest peach-hued frock that she had planned to wear to the musicale but rather her more daringly cut ice-blue one. The one that revealed more of her breasts than she was comfortable with and, though in the first stare of fashion and directly from Parisian fashion plates, would likely be considered gauche by many of the old tabbies that ruled the ton. Many of whom would be at the theater tonight. Of course.