The Midnight Rake

by Anabelle Bryant

  Her lips were absolute perfection and a lovelier shade of pink he’d never seen. The sleek curves and delectable plumpness formed the most delicious little bow; although she did not look overfed. Quite the opposite. Did Penelope suffer from lovesickness, unable to eat because of her broken heart? Clearly there was much he needed to learn. One thought remained resolute, he would not play the role of paladin. This was Maman’s problem to solve.

  “My mother could escort you to a few functions if it would offer the opportunity to learn the whereabouts of the gentleman in question. Not only would it be a safer arrangement than attempting the endeavor alone,” Phineas lowered his voice to emphasize the rest of his statement, “and I do not intend to sound braggadocio, but it would gain you entrance to the most sought-after invitations. My family is ever popular with the ton.”

  “Oh.”

  The one syllable expressed pure disappointment, and it didn’t take much logic to decipher the situation. “I assume my mother has already offered my services.”

  He disliked the idea of spending more time in Penelope’s company, notwithstanding her heart belonged to another. He’d no use for serious relationships and the emotion involved. The entire situation evoked anger more than anything else. He’d had his fill of Maman’s meddling. His eye caught a small movement on the blanket and he flicked away an intrusive spider, annoyed he’d found himself in the middle of his mother’s manipulation.

  “Would you do that for me? It’s all I desire.” Penelope’s eyes lit with sincere gratitude while her incredulous tone eased his temperament. “If you’d gain me entry to the more refined ton socials, I would be most thankful. I don’t want my troubles to become yours. I simply wish for the opportunity to resolve them myself.”

  How very brave and interesting. Her words spoke of a determination he never would have detected in her sweet, unassuming countenance. This stranger’s reason for losing contact with Penelope ought to prove a good one. Why else wouldn’t someone spend time with the delightful creature in front of him? While he rarely intruded on personal matters, he would detest the effort were he to locate the man only to discover he effectuated a threat. Not one to raise his fists in anger, Phin would stand ready if a lady’s honor were at stake.

  “It should not be a difficult task and in truth, your company in house will balm my mother’s concern for my sister. It does not signify she suggested Julia would benefit from the holiday. That fact remains inconsequential. Feel assured you’ve already returned the favor.”

  He neglected to add how it also prevented Maman from turning more attention to her only son. Other motivating factors were at work. His mother wished for grandchildren, despite he was not reticent in his announcement he’d no wish to settle down. It did not signify many of his closest friends had come to a pass in their usual roguish activities, and now either considered the parson’s mousetrap or pursued it with zeal. Devlin Ravensdale, Duke of Wharncliffe existed as a prime example of how utterly euphoric the right union could be. His friend Constantine Highborough, once a notorious scoundrel, was also ensconced in wedded bliss.

  But such relationships were rare and elusive; exceptions to the norm. His parents had more of an amicable friendship than a passionate love. His father spent most of his time traveling. Phin could easily recall childhood memories of vehement arguments recurring on a regular basis. Marriage presented a delicate balance of which he was not anxious to maneuver.

  He settled his eyes on Penelope. Apparently this lady’s heart was given. It made no difference despite she possessed a certain something that provoked his interest. His thoughts returned to their earlier collision and his body’s immediate reaction. With a sideways glance he assessed her adorably thoughtful pose. Not a classic beauty, she appeared more a wildflower, fresh in its simplicity. Those freckles, now they were entrancing to say the least. And her long eyelashes, a soft mahogany color, framed each of her green eyes creating such a distinct outline, one would have to be daft not to notice their alluring effect.

  He ignored the observations with a huff of impatience. Companionship and flirtatious endeavors withstanding, he sought nothing with permanence and this inconvenient attraction to Penelope was an unexpected irritation.

  She turned to him then, her gaze provoking an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have eaten so fast. Things were running in deuces. Penelope’s eyes held the same forlorn expression he’d left behind in Brighton; and her actions, tentative as her words, reminded him of the anxiety-ridden conversation he’d had with Julia before leaving to journey home. He needed to do something to remedy Penelope’s distress. Best confront the facts so the issue could be solved and dismissed.

  “Now here’s a bit of serendipity. Tomorrow evening the Pimbles are holding their annual masquerade. I normally dissolve into the night after I’ve attended for a reasonable amount of time, but I will endeavor to stay longer if you wish to initiate a few inquiries. With everyone’s face hidden behind a mask or domino, it will serve your purpose even if the gentleman you seek is covered in kind.”

  He could only explain his sudden enthusiasm to attend an organized function due to Penelope’s beguiling nature. Her factitious mixture of innocence and subterfuge piqued his curiosity.

  Penelope surrendered to a delighted clap before resting her hands in the skirt of her gown. The fabric looked worn and a little out of date, but he could never claim to be altogether current with fashion.

  “And once you locate this gentleman, will all your problems be solved?”

  Color drained from her cheeks. Apparently there remained more than she willingly revealed.

  “I…I suppose.” She resisted the words as she said them. Then dismissing her response, she clasped her palms together with enthusiasm. “Oh, a masquerade will be perfect. I don’t want him to see me, not now at least.”

  Perhaps she thought her words provided a sufficient answer because she reached for the last strawberry and took a dainty bite.

  “Pardon?” His eyes narrowed with speculative curiosity as she adroitly sidestepped his inquiry.

  “I would like to see what he’s doing and observe him unseen. We have much between us that needs to be settled.” She took another bite of the berry.

  Phineas recalled the convoluted thoughts of his sister and her friends whenever they fancied themselves in love, and dismissed Penelope’s reply without further consideration. If only Julia was home, she could be of better assistance. Relationships and their related nonsense were hardly his forte.

  “Well, we can talk about that later. I’ll need to know if this gentleman has committed you a wrong.”

  She gave an abrupt cough, choking on the last bite of fruit and recovering although a drip of juice dropped to her skirt. She glanced downward and muttered something under her breath.

  Phin pushed on. “I cannot protect you if you don’t allow me to know the circumstances.”

  It sounded like an ultimatum and he hoped she realized he sought to avoid putting her in harm’s way. She had already taken some reckless chances. He suspected she was either impetuous, desperate, or worse, a combination of both.

  “I can only tell you it is vital to my existence that I find this gentleman. I am grateful for any assistance as I’ve no one to depend on. My father passed months ago and my sister and I find ourselves unprotected and nearing dire straits.”

  Her words came out in a threadbare whisper and he hardly heard her, his mind otherwise occupied with the phrase vital to my existence. Relationships were dangerous. Never would he allow someone such a firm hold on his direction in life.

  Still he would help Penelope if possible. Why would the gentleman abandon her during this time of need? The only way to elucidate the answers would be to spend more time in her company. A task he would accept as duty, nothing more.

  Feminine chatter drew his attention to the walkway where Maman and Aubry appeared soon after. Glad for the additional company and the distraction the two could provide, he watched
the three ladies converse in the waning afternoon sun, while his mind considered Penelope’s somewhat illogical explanation and false show of bravado. For as much as he could tell, she appeared a very scared young woman attempting to accomplish a nearly impossible task.

  Chapter Four

  Phineas pushed through the door of Tattersalls and into the crowd, packed front door to rear, a sense of anticipation and wealth heavy in the air. No mere coincidence brought him to the club. Like everyone else, he wished to see Lord Trumpington’s grey go up on the block. The auction promised to be the most anticipated bloodstock offering at the horse house in months. Not one to spare a pound to improve his stable, Phineas aimed to purchase the animal. With careful planning, his unexpected trip to Brighton hadn’t interfered. Waving his hand in greeting to a friend across the room, the two met at the doorway and walked further down the ramp toward the stable area.

  “Have you had a look, Dev?”

  Devlin Ravensdale, Duke of Wharncliffe was a venerable expert with horses of every kind. Phin hoped Devlin’s report proved pristine so he could proceed with the sale.

  “He’s remarkable, Phin. You’ll definitely want to win this auction. I haven’t seen a better example of horseflesh in the entire General Stud Book. As a direct descendant of one of the foundation sires, he’s a pure thoroughbred. If you weren’t so set on buying him yourself, I would steal him out from underneath you.”

  They chuckled and then, reconsidering, Phin dropped all humor. “No, you wouldn’t.” He eyed his friend sincerely. Devlin possessed enough money to buy Tattersalls, never mind a single thoroughbred, so Phin held no doubt he would purchase the horse if not for their friendship. They had grown up together and couldn’t be more loyal comrades.

  “Of course I would, so I could turn around and gift him to you.”

  “No matter how much you appreciate our friendship and attribute your marital happiness to my interference, at one point you will need to stop buying me extravagant gifts. There is no debt to repay.” With the next breath, another subject leapt to the forefront. “I returned from Brighton to find my mother in house.” His voice held a dubious tone.

  Devlin arched a dark brow. “You don’t say? I thought she’d decided to spend the rest of the season at Betcham Manor.” He swung open the stable door so his friend could pass.

  Phineas grinned. “So did I. But she was there when I arrived home accompanied by two houseguests. Three, if you include her annoying parrot.”

  Devlin followed him into the stable. “So, you haven’t gotten rid of the bird?”

  “Not yet. But I may be able to recruit Jenkins to the dirty deed if the opportunity presents itself.”

  Devlin nudged Phineas before replying. “Well count me in if it turns out to be a three man job.”

  “As you wish.”

  They neared the livestock area, aisle after aisle of wooden stalls, where a soft nicker or objecting whinny rent the air to interrupt their conversation despite the humid scent and fragrant straw proved a constant reminder of their purpose. Their steps quickened as they approached an outlying stable.

  “I assume it was difficult for your mother to plan your future from the countryside.” Devlin indicated a booth just ahead. “Is there more to this story?”

  “Actually there is. Quite a bit more.” But Phin stopped short in the retelling as his eyes swept over the magnificent animal in true appreciation. “I’ll tell you about Maman later. Let’s have a look.” Phineas stepped closer and ran his palm down the stallion’s fetlock. The horse stood at least fifteen hands high. Strong and well built, lean and fit, the thoroughbred was undoubtedly a sweetgoer.

  “I am determined to win this auction. No matter the cost.”

  The thoroughbred snorted and side-stepped, causing the men to shift their attention to the wooden ramp where a stranger lingered.

  “A pure beauty that one. I’ve heard it’s the prize of the auction block today.”

  The interloper eschewed a polite introduction and instead leaned against the gate wearing a cocky sneer. He continued to speak even though both men declined to reply.

  “I heard the horse is damaged goods though. Too bad, it is.”

  “Heard from whom and where?” Devlin stepped forward, annoyed with the rude pup who thought to interrupt and invite himself into a private conversation.

  “I’ve heard it about. Some fool will purchase the horse and wind up with a problem instead.”

  Phineas stepped to the forefront, the same annoyed insolence marring his face as displayed on Devlin’s. Something in the ostentatious nature of the interloper’s tone made him readily defensive. “This horse is in fine condition. Rumors circulate before auctions all the time. You’d do well to ignore them.” And then, against his better judgment, but with the same impeccable manners he always employed, he continued, “Viscount Fenhurst. Have we met before?” He initiated a handshake, skeptical of the man’s intentions.

  Devlin watched the exchange with cautious interest.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure. I’m Lord Ridley. My friends call me Arlis.”

  Devlin interrupted with a mutter meant for Phin’s ear only. “I wouldn’t doubt the entire audience knows you’re vying for this horse. Don’t let your guard down.”

  Phin nodded in agreement.

  “Are you new in town? New to Tattersalls?” Phin continued to assess the dark-haired gentleman with narrowed eyes. As a good judge of character, something did not sit right. He frequented the horse house often and recognized everyone. Undoubtedly he’d never seen this man. The contrasting shock of white hair near his temple guaranteed he would remember such an uncommon appearance.

  Ridley didn’t answer, posing a question of his own. “Are you fixing to bid on Trump’s horse then? I could only aspire to purchase such a fine animal.”

  Phineas deferred to ignore the rude inquiry. Devlin spoke in low tones, discussing the horse and simultaneously dismissing Ridley.

  “You have nothing to worry about, Phin. No one can match your bid and even if they do, you’ll have me for reinforcement. The animal is too good to pass. I spoke with Trumpington last evening at the club. He knows you’re his prime investor. I’m confident you will be riding this animal in two days’ time. More’s the pity you will house him at Betcham Manor when he’s a natural for the Ascot Racecourse.”

  Phin could not stave off a smile. “You never gamble anyway. The horse is better off with me. Now let’s get back to the main floor. I have a lot to tell you. I may have been in Brighton for a fortnight, but I feel like it’s been more akin to a month.”

  The two friends left the paddock and walked past Ridley with nothing more than a nod.

  “So tell me about your houseguests.” Devlin glanced up from his perusal of the auction pamphlet.

  The two men reposed in one of Tattersalls subscription rooms enjoying a brandy. The auction holding their interest wouldn’t start for another hour and there would be many other animals for bid before Trumpington’s horse took the block.

  “After the morning I experienced returning from Brighton, breaking my fishing reel—”

  “Not the Nottingham rod I just gave you?”

  His friend’s immediate interjection voiced disappointment that mirrored his own and Phineas cursed himself for the slip of tongue.

  “Unfortunately that’s the one. My entire morning proved unbearable, but it didn’t end there.” Phineas released a sigh of frustration. “I arrived home to find Jenkins with his smalls in a twist, my entire staff bustling about readying the house for the unexpected visit of Maman and her new friends.” He took a sip of brandy, his voice dropping lower. “Penelope Rosebery and her younger sister do seem lovely ladies.”

  “Do I detect a note of interest?” Friendly mockery laced Devlin’s question.

  “You sound like your wife, except you know I’m in no hurry to marry; although Penelope is pretty in an unusual sort of way. She has the most extraordinary eyes.” Phin didn’t mention the long
list of other attributes rushing to mind. He wondered if Penelope had freckles elsewhere on her body or were the charming little spots designed exclusively for her perfectly kiss-worthy nose.

  Devlin smirked and finished his brandy.

  “What?” Phineas shook his head. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re as transparent as glass and as forthcoming as a waterfall, so let’s hope you weren’t of the same mind in front of said female.” Devlin smothered a grin.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. Penelope’s in London to locate someone in particular. She confessed she has strong feelings for the gentleman.” Phin didn’t share his theory concerning her interests. He’d be every kind of fool to offer further ammunition to his far too witty friend.

  “There you are!” Constantine Highborough, Earl of Colehill, approached their table with wholehearted greetings. Lord Harold Chadling followed closely behind. The two gentlemen attended Cambridge with Phin and had come to fetch him as the Trumpington horse was going up on the block earlier than expected.

  “There’s a rumbling in the crowd that the horse is unfit.” Harold offered this as the men walked toward the auction house. “The earlier time is meant to avoid further speculation that the animal is damaged goods.”

  “Complete rubbish.” Phin knew the rumor as an old ploy to try to diminish bidding. “Have you heard the same, Con?”

  Constantine Highborough held the favor of the ton. The folds of his starched white cravat were as perfectly formed as every feature of his face. He moved in all the right social circles and provided the perfect resource for confirming or deflating a rumor.

  “Only as of today. Have you met the newcomer Ridley? I’ve heard more speculation about that man than Trump’s horse.”

  “In reference to what exactly?” Devlin leaned against the doorframe of the private area where they waited.

  “It is said he’s not to be trusted and you can almost see it in his eyes when you look at the man. He doesn’t hold for very long. I would wager he started the rumors concerning today’s auction.” Constantine always cut straight to the truth. “He’s an odd looking man, with that misplaced patch of white against his dark hair. He reminds me of a badger and badgers are sneaky.”