A Lady's Dilemma Or The Dandy and Lady Penelope

by Margaret Bennett

  ~~~~~

  Under the cover of the noise and fireworks lighting up the night sky, Max slipped the decoy packet to Arnaud as unobtrusively as he could in such an open area. “I expect this to take care of our debt,” he said.

  Arnaud gave Max a pained look. “I’m afraid not, my lord.”

  Arnaud’s answer was hardly unexpected. Still, Max frowned, portraying the agitated and shaken nobleman. “We had a deal.”

  “Yes,” Arnaud growled under his breath. “But one pickup is not worth three thousand pounds.”

  “But--”

  “Assez . . . enough” Arnaud hissed, looking at the surrounding crowd, “we will talk tomorrow when we can be private.”

  Chapter 7

  The following afternoon, when the butler ushered Max into the Lenwoods’ drawing room, he first noticed Bynes’s presence and, behind him, Penelope’s maid, sewing by a window enclosure. Sweeping the tails of his military styled, red jacket with large brass buttons behind him, he gave her a brilliant smile, then made an elegant leg, encased in cream breeches and a black Hessian with a brass tassel. “Lady Pen.”

  Victor took a step forward and growled through clenched teeth, “You will address my fiancée as Lady Penelope.”

  Max waved Bynes’s comment aside. “Lady Penelope is so hard to rhyme, so I decided she will hence be Lady Pen,” he concluded with another flamboyant wave of his hand as he bowed again.

  “Now you are being silly, my lord,” Penelope said returning Max’s smile before giving him a solemn look. “Mr. Bynes has decided to accompany us to the Park. I will get my hat and coat,” she said, making a quick exit.

  “You’ve got some arrogance, Aldwyn,” Victor said, scowling. “I demand you show respect for my fiancée.”

  For some reason, Bynes’s use of “fiancée” didn’t set well, so Max replied rather too cheerfully, “Oh, I most certainly do respect the lady, more than you, were we to exam the matter.”

  Victor’s fists clenched by his side as he drew himself up. “What are you insinuating?”

  Max continued to smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “One instance comes to mind. At Almack’s Wednesday last,” he said, broadening his smile at Bynes’s reddening face, “I had the pleasure of two dances, one a waltz, with your . . . fiancée. You, on the other hand, elected to pay court very publicly on the dance floor to another lady, causing Lady Pen embarrassment and hurt.”

  Breathing heavily, Victor said in a menacing tone, “Mind your own business, Aldwyn. And stay away from Lady Penelope, you hear me?” he growled stressing her name.

  ~~~~~

  “Oh, dear!” Standing in the open doorway, Penelope’s smile was replaced with frown. She should have known better that to leave these two alone, especially after last night when Victor forbid her to see Max again. Furthermore, it rankled that Victor thought he could order her about without any regard for her wishes. She’d decided to nip that in the bud right now.

  “Max is a guest in my home, Victor, and I will not have you ordering him around.” She came into the room, tugging on gray kid gloves that matched the gray piping on her dark blue pelisse, and glared at both gentlemen. “I am looking forward to a lovely ride. I will not put up with silly bickering.”

  “Lady Pen,” Max said, bowing his head with a wicked smile, “your wish is my command.”

  At the sight of his playful grin, Penelope’s heart lurched in her chest, and she slowly smiled at him. “Oh, Max, you are silly.”

  “Max!” Victor spat out.

  Penelope turned and gave Victor a tight version of her smile. “Yes, we are good friends.” Then, in a no nonsense tone, she asked, “Well, Victor, do you plan to accompany us?”

  Victor stood rigid, clenching and unclenching his fists. “You still plan to go with him?” he asked incredulously.

  Penelope nodded. “I told you last night that Max had asked me to ride in Hyde Park. It would be uncivil of me to renege on a . . . a--”

  “An engagement,” Max offered, again with his wicked smile.

  “What engagement?” blustered Victor.

  “Commitment,” Penelope corrected, giving Max a castigating look. She couldn’t understand why he was deliberately trying to goad Victor. Couldn’t Max see that it only made it harder for her to maintain their friendship?

  “Poor choice of words,” Max said, by way of apology, although his grin was anything but contrite.

  “You’ll ride in my carriage,” Victor said, taking Penelope’s arm and starting for the door.

  “But, I had Blossom brought around to the front,” Penelope said, determined not to give in to Victor’s dictates. “It has been ages since I rode her.”

  Hoping she’d won this skirmish with Victor, Penelope allowed him to lead her down the front steps. Then, as Victor released his hold on her, preparing to give her a leg up, Max stepped forward and put his hands around her waist. The sensation was electric. She felt as if he’d branded her, though she knew it was the exact opposite. This was one man claiming territory over another. And for the life of her, she was nonplussed to explain Max’s part in this charade. So, she placed her hands on his shoulders and whispered, “No, Max.”

  But by then, he’d lifted her effortlessly up into the saddle. He took a moment to check the length of the saddle’s stirrups, then looked up at her and winked.

  When Max turned to Victor, whose face was nearly the same color as Max’s red jacket, Max made a flourish with his hand and said, “Lead on, Bynes. We’ll follow.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, he gave her another wink, making Penelope clamp her teeth on her lower lip to keep from laughing at his audaciousness.

  ~~~~~

  Max thoroughly enjoyed the ride around Grosvenor Square as he and Penelope led the way on their mounts to Hyde Park. Although he knew Bynes was fuming, driving behind them, eating their dust, the man deserved no less for trying to order Penelope around.

  As they came to the Grosvenor Gate entrance to Hyde Park, Max pulled on Hugo’s reins, letting Penelope’s mare take the lead and affording him an excellent eye of her seat. Her dark blue riding habit trimmed with black frogging hugged her feminine figure, showing to advantage the curve of her bosom, and tapered down to her incredibly tiny waist before flaring over slender hips. Lifting her up on the mare, he remembered the feel of her incredibly tiny waist as his hands rested on her slender hips.

  Studying her swan-like neck, exposed by the sweep of her chestnut tresses pulled up under a black hat with a spray of small black feathers, Max envisioned nibbling a trail of kisses from her small ears down to the creamy skin hidden by the bodice of her velvet habit. A fire ignited in his belly, causing him to decide that Penelope was much too good for someone of Victor Bynes’s ilk. Then and there, Max vowed he would accomplish what her father had asked--convince Penelope to break her engagement with Bynes.

  “You are staring, Max. Is something wrong?” Penelope asked.

  Max gave himself a mental shake before saying, “Just wondering how Victor’s doing?”

  Penelope pressed her lips together and gave him a leveling look. “I never realized you were such a tease.”

  Before Max could respond, Victor drew his phaeton up beside Penelope and grabbed her attention. Soon after, Edric Kingston, driving Lady Anne Stanburke in his curricle, greeted them.

  While Penelope was talking with Lady Anne and Victor, Edric leaned toward Max. “Seeing a lot of Lady Penelope, aren’t you?”

  “We’re friends,” Max answered matter-of-factly.

  Edric shook his head. “Word is you’re always with the lady, riding in the Park, visiting her home, dancing whenever possible. Heard talk at White’s. Victor claims you’re after his fiancée.”

  Max raised one eyebrow. “Anything in the betting books?”

  “Not yet,” Edric said, just as Lady Anne asked Max, “Are you attending the Earl of Hatton’s ball tonight, Lord Aldwyn?”

  “Only if you promise to save a dance for me, Lady Anne,” Max gall
antly replied. As the topic moved to other events planned for the week, Max thought about what Edric had told him and observed Victor’s scowling countenance as he looked off toward a tree-lined walking path. Following Victor’s line of vision, Max spotted Pierre Arnaud with a stocky, well-dressed gentleman. Both appeared deeply engrossed in conversation.

  While Max couldn’t be sure, the man’s build was similar to the one he’d seen at the drop-off and then fought with at Vauxhall Gardens. When the two men turned onto the path, Max decided to follow.

  Quickly drawing Hugo up and then around the rear of Bynes’s curricle, Max maneuvered his stallion next to Penelope’s mare. “Lady Pen,” he said, apologetically, trying to keep an eye on the two men. “There’s someone I need to say hello to.”

  Following his gaze, her back stiffened. “Monsieur Arnaud?” Before he could answer, she added deflatedly, “Of course, who else?” She turned to look at him. “I am sure Victor will see me home.”

  Her melancholy expression troubled Max, but he didn’t have time to question her. “You are most kind,” he said and urged Hugo into a trot.

  ~~~~~

  Max patted Hugo’s taut neck muscles as he kept the large, brown stallion to a sedate walk. Up ahead, Max could see Arnaud had stopped with the other man. Dressed neatly in a bottle green frock coat, the man’s build certainly resembled that of the man in Vauxhall Gardens. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, pulled low on his forehead, making it impossible for Max to get a look at his face.

  Suddenly, Arnaud glanced back, and Max pulled Hugo into the bushes behind a tree. After looking around and apparently not seeing him, Arnaud turned back to the other man. The two soon became engaged in a heated discussion with Arnaud waving his arms about. Several intense minutes later, the other man stalked off, leaving Arnaud yelling at him, “Come back, your work is not through.”

  The other man ignored Arnaud, trudging briskly down the path. Finally, Arnaud rounded on his heel and headed back down the path toward where Max was hiding. Quickly dismounting, Max led Hugo further among the trees and waited until Arnaud passed. Remounting the stallion, he then took off in the direction of the other man. Max caught up with him leaving the park through the Stanhope Gate and headed up Piccadilly. But as they got further away from Mayfair, Hugo presented a problem. The huge, magnificent stallion stood out, drawing attention, which was exactly what Max didn’t want. When he came to the coaching inn, the King’s Inn, he spotted an olster just coming out of the stable. Glancing ahead, he saw the traitorous suspect a half block away. Making a quick decision, he called to the young lad, explained what he needed, and paid for Hugo’s care until he could retrieve him.

  Out on the street once again, Max hastened down the road, checking side streets as he passed, looking for the bottle green coat. He soon spotted the gentleman a block ahead, just as he turned down a street. Max sped up his pace.

  Arriving at Rose Street, Max noticed that, with the sun lower in the sky, the street appeared darker lined on both sides with dingy tenement houses. The three and four-story buildings clustered close together blocked out even more light. Nor were many people out. Sticking closer to the building, Max suddenly came upon a seedy looking individual huddled in the deep shadows of a doorway wearing a tattered foot soldier’s red jacket and gray trousers. Meeting the derelict’s eyes, for a moment Max was taken aback by the forlorn expression in his sunken eyes. He touched the brim of his hat, a silent salute in recognition to the man’s service to his country, then took off after the retreating figure of the stocky man as he disappeared into an alley.

  Cautiously approaching the narrow alley, Max listened for footsteps but heard nothing. The putrid odor wafted from a pile of refuse and became stronger as he entered. The alley appeared to be lined with rear doors of the tenements, many with overhanging porches above. Searching the gloomy light ahead, he could see no one and figured the man had either gone into one of the tenements or was hiding in one of the darkened doorway recesses.

  Either way, Max had little choice. He proceeded down the alley, sidestepping the rancid trickle of excrement that ran down the center while trying to pierce the inky alcoves and niches. Rats scurried close by the refuse pile, and one raced down the alley. But he neither saw nor heard the human rat who came up behind him until it was too late. Just as he sensed a presence at his back, numbing pain exploded in his head.

  And the world went black.

  Chapter 8

  Slowly, Max’s senses clawed through a black abyss, and he became aware of someone beside him. Opening his eyes required profound effort. He fought down nausea as his eyes adjusted to the weak light filtering down from the dusky sky. He tried to lift his head and groaned as a tight band of pain radiated around his head.

  “Might want to take it easy, bloke,” a strange, gravelly voice said. “Took a nasty crack on the noggin, you did.”

  Keeping still, Max rolled his eyes to his right and saw next to him the ex-soldier down on one knee.

  Eyeing the ragged uniform, Max said, “Foot Guards, Second Battalion.”

  Hollow cheeks and defeated eyes nodded slowly. “You served?”

  “I was assigned to Wellington’s staff on the Peninsula,” Max answered.

  The ex-soldier drew his shoulders back and said with a note of pride, “Corporal Thomas Mulvey.”

  “Pleasure, Corporal Mulvey.”

  “Took you for one of the pinks or tulips of fashion when I first saw you.”

  Max gave the ex-soldier a quirky smile. “That is the idea.”

  “Feeling better, Major?” Mulvey asked.

  With care, Max rose, putting his weight on his elbow. His head throbbed painfully, but Max tried to ignore it as, accepting Melvey’s assistance, he managed to get to his feet.

  “Where to, Major?” Mulvey picked up Max’s beaver tophat and handed it to Max.

  “The King’s Inn.” Their eyes met. Taking the man’s measure, Max accepted his hat. As they began walking out of the alley, he noticed Mulvey’s favoring his right leg. “What’s your story?”

  Keeping his eyes straight, Mulvey said, “I took lead in me leg in a skirmish and was sent home, only there ain’t no work. Lots of men like me.” It was a statement made without any pity in his voice. “Me wife, she takes in laundry, but me three kids be young.”

  “What’d you do before signing up?” Max asked.

  “Me parents, they were tenant farmers in Cumberland. But the old lord died. The new lord, he don’t care much and’s bleeding the people dry.”

  Max nodded. He’d heard this story many times. Viewed strictly as a means to ensure their extravagant lifestyles, many of his peers drained their estates and tenants with little regard for the future or whom they hurt in the process.

  “How’s your head, Major?” Mulvey asked.

  “Hurts like the devil,” Max answered. “Did you see anyone in the alley?”

  “Bloke was long gone by the time I got to you. But I seen you following him.”

  “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

  “No,” Mulvey said, drawing the word out. “Never saw his fiz. Had his head low, he did, when he come running out right after you turned down the alleyway. I figured something was up.”

  They reached the King’s Inn. Even though the sun was setting, people still milled about, some having recently arrived, others waiting for coaches. Max located the ostler and he tipped the young lad after he saddled Hugo. In the courtyard, Max joined Mulvey, who’d hung back by the stable doors. Taking a gold coin from his pocket, Max flipped it to his rescuer. “You averse to being a footman or stable hand?”

  Mulvey drew his shoulders back. “I’lls take whatever. I’ve never been afraid of hard honest work.”

  Max nodded. “Come by Fifty-one Upper Brook Street tomorrow morning. Ask for Fenton.” As he rode off, Mulvey’s thin face split with a smile.

  ~~~~~

  No doubt, the Hatton’s ball would be a crush, Penelope thought as she glanced at the floor-to-ceiling
window of the Earl of Hatton’s ballroom. The line of carriages waiting to disembark their occupants wrapped around the center park of Portman Square.

  From a passing footman, she accepted a glass of champagne and eyed a few of the red damask walls lined with past generations of Hattons and pastoral scenes. Six enormous, gilt-framed mirrors reflected the candlelight from two massive chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling of gilded birds, cherubs, and ribbons.

  The imposing ballroom was slow to fill up. She’d arrived twenty minutes earlier with her parents and so far had not seen Victor or Max. She was, however, forced to listen to the cloying Monsieur Arnaud, who’d latched onto her the minute he arrived.

  “Ah, Lady Penelope, you look beautiful as ever,” he said, kissing the back her hand and drawing her closer before he released it. “You are expecting to see your fiancé here this evening, oui?”

  “Mr. Bynes did say he would be attending,” she replied.

  “You are here with your parents, oui? But of course, such a fortunate young man would want to see to your care,” he said, almost leering at her.

  “I am not a helpless child,” she said before she could stop herself. Lately, Victor censured everything she did, and Penelope found his efforts to control her more than vexing.

  “Non, I never meant to imply that, mademoiselle,” Arnaud said, patting her arm in an all too familiar manner. “It is only that sometimes a little guidance when one seeks to make friends can be helpful.”

  “I am afraid I do not understand,” she said, just as Max was announced. As both Arnaud and she turned to the ballroom door, she heard the Frenchman’s “Humrph.” “Is something amiss, monsieur?”

  “Non,” he said, leaning his head closer to hers, as if he were sharing a confidence. “I am merely surprised to see Lord Aldwyn at such a tonnish affair.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, more than irritated by the Frenchman’s closeness.

  In a soft voice, he sing-songed, “Oh, ho, you must know of the talk that surrounds this silly man?”