Lenwood swore under his breath. “I knew Bynes had changed. At first, I put it down to a young man sowing his wild oats, but his behavior only continued to worsen. Yet, I never suspected he’d betray his own country.”
In the coach’s darkened interior, Max tried to read the Earl’s face, but could see nothing. “As Penelope’s fiancée--”
“The gossipmonger will hash this scandal over for the remainder of the Season,” Blackmoor interjected.
Max cleared his throat. “I have a plan.”
“Figured as much,” Blackmoor said, with a hint of a laugh.
“Out with it,” barked Lenwood.
Thus, a few minutes later as the Duke’s coach stopped before the Albany, a grand townhouse turned into apartments for gentlemen, a pact was made.
Max was the last to alight before he took the lead up the front steps, then down the marble tiled hallway, and up the grand, sweeping staircase to the first floor. He halted before a door at the end of the long hall. Acknowledging the Earl and his father behind him with a nod, he didn’t bother to knock but turned the door handle. Unlocked, the door noiselessly swung open, revealing a small sitting room. Although it was four in the morning, light spilled from a doorway off one side of the room.
Striding over to the door, Max met Victor’s surprised look as he stood in front of a cheval mirror while his valet eased a bottle-green jacket over his shoulders.
“A little early to be going out?” Max queried.
“What are you doing here?” Victor spat before he spied his future father-in-law and Blackmoor behind Max. Pulling down on the front of his jacket with both hands, he tried for a more casual tone. “Good morning, Your Grace, Lord Lenwood. To what do I owe the honor of your visit to my humble abode?”
“Stubble it, Bynes,” Max said looking about the well-appointed room. A large four poster bed with crimson, velvet hangings dominated one half of the room. On either side of a white marble fireplace, tall windows with crimson drapes looked out onto a small garden. Another door opened to a dressing room. Behind Bynes stood a dressing table. “Dismiss your man,” Max ordered, gesturing toward the valet who, holding a clothing brush, hovered behind Bynes.
Bynes’s anger was evident as his fair complexion blotched red. But after a few tense moments when no one moved, he gave his valet a sharp nod. Watching his man close the door as he left the bedchamber, Bynes’s demeanor took on a guarded look. “I assume there is an appropriate explanation for this intrusion?”
“Arnaud and Coburn have both been taken into custody.” Max’s words literally caused the color to drain from Bynes’s countenance. “Where is the copy of the document Arnaud gave you?”
Giving a weak snort, Bynes said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We know you’re up at this ungodly hour preparing to meet a French agent at the George Inn,” Blackmoor said.
This is all preposterous!” Bynes blustered. “I don’t have any documents. Besides, all you’ve claimed amounts to Arnaud’s word against mine. You’ve no proof.”
Max recognized what Bynes said was true and immediately went over to the dressing table. He pulled out drawers and tossed their contents on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Bynes yelled, lunging toward Max.
Both Blackmoor and Lenwood started for Bynes, but Max was ready for him. Pivoting on his heel, Max drew his right fist back and delivered an upper cut facer, dropping Bynes where he stood.
Turning to Lenwood, Blackmoor chuckled. “The boy always had a fine pair of fives.”
While Bynes flexed his jaw and slowly rose to his feet, Max turned back to the dressing table. In the back of a lower draw, he found a leather folder and opened it. “Here’s your proof,” he said, pulling out a folded paper with names and places neatly printed on it.
Bynes stared at the paper, shaking his head and mumbling, “No, no, no.”
“You should thank us by cooperating,” Lenwood added. “Otherwise, you’d be walking into a trap where the runners are waiting to haul your carcass off to Newgate.”
“You’re only chance is to do as we say,” Max said. “You’ll quietly disappear. But first, you must write a full confession and renounce your claim to the Newton title. Then, a military escort will take you to the docks where you’ll board a merchant ship, The Tabard. It sails on the morning’s tide for Canada.”
“My, my father--” Bynes stammered.
“I’ll see to it that the Viscount Newton receives a directive from the Prince Regent,” Blackmoor said. “It’ll allow the Newton Viscountcy to go to your brother upon your father’s death.”
With his arms spread out, Bynes turned to the Earl and pleaded, “But I’m engaged to Penelope. We’re to be married in two months.”
“You blackguard,” Lenwood sneered with clenched fists. “You’ll never lay eyes on my daughter again, much less marry her and claim her dowry.”
“You’re wasting time, Bynes,” Max said, pulling out the stool in front of the dressing table. “Sit here and write out your part in this treachery.”
When Bynes began to protest again, Lenwood stepped forward. “You’ll not besmirch my family name or dishonor Penelope. Do as you’re told, Victor, or I’ll see your neck stretched in a noose.”
Visually shaken, Bynes sat at his dressing table and withdrew from a bottom draw several sheets of paper, a feather quill, and a small bottle of ink.
“Begin with the date,” Max ordered, leaning over Bynes’s shoulder.
~~~~~
All alone, Penelope sat at the breakfast table, toying with a knife, buttering a scone. She’d managed to drink some tea but found she was too upset to eat. Her mother had been understandably disturbed upon returning home last night to find Penelope anxiously pacing about the parlor. “What are you doing up, Penelope?” she’d asked.
Penelope didn’t know how much she should divulge to her mother. She’d pieced together information and concluded that Pierre and Claudine Arnaud and Coburn were spies. Even worse, she feared Max might be one, too. She’d remembered the number of times she’d seen him with Arnaud. And then there was Max’s preference to be in the Frenchman’s company instead of hers. Oh, she was so confused and worried about Max.
When she didn’t answer, her mother took her hand and led her over to sit on a settee. Still holding Penelope’s hand, Lady Lenwood asked, “What is it, dearest? Why are you so upset?”
Taking a deep breath, Penelope said, “Mother, the Arnauds are not what they seem.”
“Really?” Lady Lenwood leaned back against the yellow settee’s damask cushions. “That hardly surprises me. Your father seemed to be keeping an eye on Monsieur Arnaud wherever we went. But you haven’t told me what has troubled you so.”
Penelope decided her father would most likely tell her mother the entire story and then proceeded to describe what happened at the Arnauds’ townhouse. A frown soon marred Lady Lenwood’s brow although she didn’t speak until Penelope finished speaking.
“You said Lord Aldwyn was shot by Arnaud while protecting you. How interesting.” Then quickly, her brow cleared and she said in a bracing tone, “Well, dearest, we must simply wait until the morning to learn from your father what has transpired.” A small laugh followed before she added, “Or at least hear the version of the story he wants told. Come now,” she said, standing and pulling Penelope up with her, “off to bed. There is nothing we can do about this tonight.”
But though Penelope went through the ritual of undressing, climbing into bed, and rising three hours later to dress again, she had not slept. Instead, she spent most of the night drenching her pillow with tears. While Max’s wound had not been life threatening, she was consumed with worry over his role in the entire affair.
And if he were a spy, her father would see him hanged!
There was a commotion at the front door, and Penelope sat straighter, composing her expression just as her father walked in and took a seat across from her. She noted the dark circles
around his eyes and knew he must be exhausted having been up all night.
“Hell of a night,” he said before ordering a footman to bring him coffee and freshly scrambled eggs. He studied her face for a moment. “I see you didn’t get much sleep, either.”
Penelope gave him a sad smile. “How’s Max?”
“You can ask him yourself, for Max will be here later today,” the Earl said with a broad smile, which quickly shifted to a frown. “Penelope, I can’t go into detail, but you must trust me on this. You must call off your engagement to Victor Bynes.”
With sudden insight, she asked, “Is he involved in this as well?”
“I talked with Bynes last night about his debts,” Lenwood said, evading her question. “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but Victor has developed quite a gambling habit, and unfortunately for him, he’s not very good at it. At any rate, he’s been convinced that it would be best for his family . . . and you, to leave the country.”
Meeting her father’s steady gaze, Penelope suspected there was much more to the story than he was letting on. She wondered how Victor had been involved with the Arnauds. “This must be a rather sudden decision. When I saw him last night at the card party, he didn’t seem troubled.” Of course, she thought, she’d left before exchanging a greeting with him.
“I don’t want you to fret over this,” her father was saying. “I’ll place an announcement in the paper. It’ll be a nine day wonder, nothing more, especially when Victor isn’t seen about town.”
“He’s left already?” Penelope asked, unable to hide her surprise.
Again, her father’s gaze studied her face. “Does it bother you?”
Penelope shook her head. “Only that Victor should think so little of me that he would not tell me of his leaving.” When the Earl didn’t answer, she asked, “Papa, how much is Victor involved with what happened at the Arnauds’ last night?”
“What I’ve told you about Victor’s debts is the truth,” Lenwood answered.
“Yes,” she said, “I understand.” And indeed, she did. Without admitting it, her father had told her that Victor was mixed up in some dire way with the Arnauds. The talk about his gambling was the cover story her mother had hinted about that would explain his absence from the social scene. She ought to feel sorry or, at the very least, sad for Victor, but she didn’t. She realized he was most likely being transported to one of the colonies, which meant his life had been spared. Traitors, after all, were hung.
Leaning back in his chair, Lenwood released an uneasy chuckle. “Of course, your mother will be livid.”
“Will there be a scandal?” Penelope asked, more out of curiosity than really caring about one.
“If there is one, it’ll be but a nine day wonder,” her father said. “But in no time, something else will occur to attract the attention of the gossipmongers.”
~~~~~
Max was surprised when Fenton merely tsked-tsked over his ruined jacket, figuring his valet was more concerned for Max’s well being. “No need to worry about my arm, Fenton,” Max said, hoping to ease the man’s fears. “Had a quack look at it who said it would be right as rain in a week or two.”
“I wasn’t worried, my lord,” Fenton huffed, tossing his nose in the air.
“Upset over the ruination of a good jacket?” Max asked raising one eyebrow.
“Nothing of the sort, my lord. Fact is, you’re well rid the jacket.”
“Why is that?”
Smoothing the shoulders, Fenton carefully brushed off Max’s lime green and cream striped jacket. “I’ve come to prefer your new look and despaired at the thought of putting such elegant garments away in storage,” he said as a militant glint lit his eyes.
Straightening his light gray waistcoat, Max observed Fenton’s pugnacious expression in the cheval mirror as the valet stood next to him. “Do you know, Fenton, I quite agree with you.” Meeting the valet’s eyes in the mirror, Max smiled as he shot his lacy cuffs. “In fact, plan to order several new coats made up of heavier fabrics for autumn events.”
“I’ll be most happy to assist, my lord,” Fenton said with a large grin that split his usually somber face.
An hour later, with a light hand on the reins of the high-strung speckled grays, Max tooled his yellow curricle through Bond Street, teaming with carriages and riders on this sunny day. Having gotten only a couple hours sleep, he should be tired. Instead, he was excited about seeing Penelope.
He ought to feel anxious, especially since he intended to ask her to marry him. But remembering how dismayed she’d been when Arnaud had shot him, Max felt confident of her love for him.
Also, there were her responses to his kisses. If she didn’t love him, they definitely shared a mutual attraction for each other. That bode well for the beginning of a great marriage, he thought with a smile.
Before parting in the wee hours of the morning, the Earl told Max that he’d tell Penelope about Victor’s gambling debts, which was also the explanation the beau monde would be given for Bynes’s sudden disappearance. Lenwood also planned to immediately place an announcement calling off the engagement in The Times.
Thus, the field was clear for Max to woo his lady.
Pulling up to the Earl’s townhouse, Max tossed his reins to his groom. “Walk them, Jeremy. I’ll only be a few minutes.” He skipped up the flagstone steps and was instantly greeted by the butler. Proffering his hat and gloves, he inquired if Lady Penelope was home and was soon shown into the drawing room.
Penelope sat next to her mother on the settee with her hands folded demurely in her lap. Her pale blue muslin gown, trimmed in white lace and ribbons, illuminated her crystal blue eyes that studiously followed Max when he entered and executed an elegant bow. Her hair was arranged in a loose bun with soft tendrils hanging down her slender neck and framing her face. She resembled an angel as her rose bud lips formed a small, almost tentative smile, and for a moment, Max wondered if perhaps she had harbored tender feelings for that rotter, Victor Bynes.
No matter, he decided. He hoped to soon put a smile on those most kissable lips.
After greeting Lady Lenwood, he announced, “My chariot awaits you, Lady Pen. I hope you’ll accompany me for a drive around Hyde Park?”
Chapter 14
Minutes later, Penelope stood expectantly, waiting for Max to wrap his strong hands around her waist and lift her up on the high seat of the curricle. With his sherry-colored eyes boring into hers, her breath caught when she placed her hands on his broad shoulders and she felt almost dizzy as he placed her like delicate porcelain on the seat.
With her pulse racing, she remembered the first time his hands had circled her waist, sending a tingly warmth through her. The hardness of his muscles under her hands and the strength he possessed to so effortlessly lift her were broad hints that he was not the effeminate dandy he professed to be. He settled his weight next to her, and she felt his leg pressed against hers. Glancing up at him, she met his knowing grin. For one fleeting moment, she delighted in his flirtation with her.
But that was impossible, she reminded herself. This was Max, a very playful friend.
She heard him dismiss his groom and, playful or not, knew she had to speak up. “Max, please, for propriety’s sake, we must have a chaperone.”
Again he gave her that flirty grin. “Trust me, Pen. Besides, we’re seated atop a curricle for all to see.”
Giving in with a small sigh, Penelope watched Max pull the restless team out into traffic and set off for the park. Once entering the Grosvenor Gate, she lifted her face to the warm sun and realized that, for the first time in weeks, she felt contented.
She was free of Victor’s bondage. Over the past months, his controlling behavior had become oppressive, and she’d seen enough of his abusive temper to know life with him would have become intolerable. And while she was denied her heart’s desire, Max, she could share a ride with him.
“You’re smiling.”
His words broke into her reverie
. She looked at him with a wide grin. “It is a beautiful day,” she said.
He returned her smile. “I hope to make it one you’ll come to remember fondly for a lifetime.”
She laughed at his silliness. “How is that possible? Oh,” she exclaimed, “you finished your poem?”
He laughed. “I tried, Pen, but each time the muse of love, Erato, took hold of my thoughts, putting me to the blush.” Her grin widened as he eyed her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Moments later, he angled the team off the main promenade onto a shaded lane.
“Where are we going?” she asked looking over her shoulder at the empty track behind her. When he pulled the team off the lane, then through the trees toward a small meadow, she decided his prank had gone far enough. “This will never do, Max. Friend or not, people will never understand this.”
He didn’t answer right away but pulled the team to a halt and tied the reins to the brake. Then giving her a very sober look, he asked, “Why not, Pen?”
“You know perfectly well why not,” she said letting her exasperation show. “Some people might construe this as a very compromising situation.”
“Would that disturb you?”
He sounded as though she’d wounded him in some way. When he reached to pull her into an embrace, Penelope, totally confused, shook her head and pushed her hands against his chest. “Max, what are you doing?”
Gazing deep into her eyes, he asked, “What does it look like?”
“But you do not like women.”
He reared his head back and frowned. “Whatever gave you that impression?”
How could she tell him what was so obvious? Yet, seeing the warmth reflected in his sherry-colored eyes, she hesitated. “No reason, just that you are so very thoughtful,” she hedged. “And I did wonder why you weren’t already married.”
A Lady's Dilemma Or The Dandy and Lady Penelope Page 12
