Without warning Maman drew up sharply, halting everyone in step.
“Mon dieu, I forgot the letter I promised Lady Pimble. She depends upon receiving the correspondence this evening.” Overwrought with the realization, Maman pursued the stairs.
“At her own masquerade?” Impatience marred Phin’s words, then catching himself, he amended his tone. “It is no matter if we arrive a few minutes late. We’ll wait for you in the foyer. There’s sure to be a crush at the receiving line. It will not signify if we’re at the beginning or end.” He forced a tight smile before glancing in Penelope’s direction. His expression eased as he noticed the genuine pleasure reflected in her eyes.
“No, I would never cause a delay because of my forgetfulness.” Maman continued with insistence. “You must proceed. I will have Jenkins summon the footmen to ready another carriage.”
She moved across the hall to the far staircase as Phin argued the point. He already fought a troublesome desire to pay closer attention to Penelope. No good could come from being sequestered in a dimly lit carriage for thirty minutes.
“That is unnecessary.” He objected, full-knowing there was no way to win the argument against Maman’s determination. This trait of her personality had amplified as the years passed. Her mind was made and there would be no unmaking it.
“I cannot recall where I left the letter. It will take time for me to locate it. I’ll follow as soon as I have it safely tucked inside my reticule.” She patted her purse as if he needed the visual aid and bid them goodbye with a quick flick of her wrist, her back turned as she scurried for the stairs.
Phin couldn’t ever recall seeing his mother move so quickly. He stared into the space she once occupied as a scoff of skepticism escaped. He turned though, not foolish enough to waste the time he could prod Penelope for answers and taking her elbow, escorted her to the carriage. Her hand held tightly to his as he offered her up the steps and an invigorating rebellion caused him to hold hers in the same fashion.
Once seated, amusement and curiosity banished all thoughts of Maman. His eyes trailed after Penelope’s gloved fingers as they stroked the velvet squabs with reverent care. His carriage was fine, there was no doubt, and the unabashed awe she showed in its luxury urged he silently commend himself for the purchase solely because it pleased her. Entranced by her beguiling expression he did not acknowledge the unsettling silence. Then, almost as if they simultaneously found awareness, her gaze caught his and they spoke together. He nodded with a chuckle, to indicate she should continue.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Her voice sounded light and breathy, a seductive entreaty in the near darkness.
“There is nothing for which to thank me.” He smiled again. “My mother and I are happy to provide you with an avenue to resolve your problem. It is the duty of any upstanding gentleman within the ton.” He almost choked on the latter portion of his statement. While those words rang true of Harold, they certainly did not apply to Con. Before he’d married Isabelle, Constantine enjoyed beautiful women thoroughly and might have considered keeping Penelope for himself. Good thing Con had found security and long-lasting love. A rare marriage, indeed. He dismissed the thought.
“You look beautiful this evening.” He turned to glance out the window. He wasn’t one to quote poetic. Somehow the words spoke themselves.
“Thank you.” She played with her purse strings. “You don’t recognize the Rosebery name?”
Her delicate brows drew together as if she wished him to know something he did not.
“Should I? You mentioned your father was a baron with holdings in the Cotswolds. I am afraid I never made his acquaintance.” He couldn’t know she meant because of scandal, instead the silence stretched on before she spoke again.
“Have you met Lady Elizabeth Bretton? In our correspondence she mentioned becoming enmeshed in London society. Do you think she exaggerated?”
The humor in her voice allowed his smile freedom.
“She may view her entrée in such a manner. I, for one, cannot recall having an introduction, although I’m not one to linger with the debutantes. The name sounds vaguely familiar. Were my sister here we could solve the problem. Julia memorizes the social register.” He glanced out the window at the passing coaches. Myriad stars winked overhead. Such a clear night. A rarity for London.
For several breaths they heard nothing but the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels.
And then, “I met a friend of yours today at the modiste shop. Lady Alexandra Ravensdale. She spoke of you with fondness.”
Excitement punctuated the retelling and he turned his head in surprise. “Did she? Her husband, the Duke of Wharncliffe, and I are great friends. I have known Devlin for nearly my entire life.”
“Alexandra helped me select this gown.” Her eyes flittered to her silk skirt before rising to hold his gaze. “It is the loveliest dress I’ve ever worn.”
The honest excitement in her voice entranced him. Lord, his sister possessed dozens of gowns and complained regularly she had nothing to wear.
He attempted to occupy himself with examining the carriage interior, his eyes hungrily returning to Penelope nevertheless. She should feel special this evening. Each time he glanced in her direction it became more difficult for him to tear his eyes away. She looked exquisite, as tempting and delicate as a French dessert, draped in smooth silky frosting with the promise of a warm, sweet center. The thought of indulging caused his mouth to water, his fingertips to itch with the desire to glide over every curve of the shimmering fabric caressing her delectable body. He swallowed nervously and readjusted himself on the seat.
“Her Grace is so beautiful.” She sounded a little in awe with the statement.
Good lord, so are you. Breathtaking, actually.
“Devlin and Lexi married a short time ago. They are well matched and genuinely happy.” Phin smiled at the remembrance. What were the odds of finding someone to cherish? One hundred? Two thousand? One million to one?
“They seem exorbitantly so. It’s easy to see she holds his heart.”
Who holds yours, Penny?
“Yes, their story is an interesting one. Mayhap there will be a day when we’re kept indoors by the weather or have run out of things to say and I can retell it to you.” His voice dropped to a low tone as if he shared a secret or did not know what to expect in her reply.
“I am sure I would enjoy hearing it. You make it sound very intriguing.”
Oh no, it is you who remains intriguing. A beautiful little mystery.
He studied her profile with intense interest. The picture he’d drawn with his words hinted at a long, satisfying relationship and he could not fathom why he’d suggested such a thing, most especially while he knew the circumstances surrounding her visit. Nevertheless an exhilarating thrill shot through him at the anticipation of a future with Penelope present. That is, until he solved her problem and said his farewells.
“I would like that.” She smiled and he returned it with one of his own.
Chapter Six
Penelope was becoming adept at keeping secrets. When she’d arrived to the city with its expensive avenues and properties, she harbored heartfelt gratitude for Lady Fenhurst. Less than a week ago, her life was at its bleakest. Now the last few days had transformed into a fairytale from a humble country cottage to a lavish London townhouse. And she was on her way to a function of the haut ton. The tumultuous series of events spun through her head with unbridled excitement.
Still the true impetus of her exhilaration sat across from her. She appreciated the perfection found in Phineas this evening, waiting across the drawing room unbelievably handsome in his formal attire. She liked him well enough in a linen shirt on the picnic blanket. She never expected him to exceed her wildest imaginings by appearing heart-stoppingly handsome in a cutaway tail coat and cravat.
He’d smiled at her when she’d come through the doorway, a devastatingly rakish smile, and his hair caught a warm gloss from the fire
light. She would always remember his image and the invigorating rush of her heartbeat in that moment.
Now, ensconced in comfortable silence within the carriage, her pulse thrummed in her ears begging her to produce a scrap of clever conversation. But did it even matter? Phineas belonged to a highly respected family favored by the good ton. Why would he give her a second thought? Likely every flirtatious debutante in London offered him their adoration.
She stole another glance beneath lowered lashes. His wavy brown hair was combed away from his face to lend him a boyish look, while broad, strong shoulders filled his navy blue waistcoat marking him all man. Penelope averted her eyes to where a perfectly folded cravat brushed his chin. He had the nicest cleft there. If only she could reach across and touch the indentation, feel the roughened dip of skin, appreciate the strength of such a sturdy attractive chin. It somehow made her feel safe. Could a facial feature do that? His amber eyes glistened in the lantern light whenever he turned to speak. She blinked hard to stifle her preoccupation, then recited a silent litany of self-admonishment to quiet the bevy of butterflies come to life in her stomach.
It was all for naught, to notice and memorize each of his features as if it would matter in the end. How wonderful to live in his home and become acquainted with his family, and to stop worrying about the rent or sufficient food for their meals. Oh, it was the least she owed Aubry. But in regard to Phineas, she squelched any hope. She was nothing more than the eldest daughter of a country baron and penniless to boot. Once the extent of her mistakes became known, he would be forced to distance himself or run the risk of shameful embarrassment. The realization that she might cause the Betcham family discomfiture threatened to surface but she declined to let it take hold.
“Do you think it will be a large crush?” Her voice broke on the words. She hoped her tangled rush of emotions didn’t show in her eyes.
“I am sure of it and that reminds me.” He picked up the split seat of the bench, removed a small box and opened it to reveal several masks and dominoes.
“I wasn’t sure what color you would be wearing this evening so I purchased one in every hue.”
He offered her the box and she took it to her lap. Every mask appeared lovelier than the next, the decision difficult, until she selected a gold and green pairing accented with peacock feathers. With the patterned silk of her gown, she knew it presented the perfect match.
“Which will you wear?” She handed him the box and waited for his answer. He chuckled, a warm rich sound, much like the hot chocolate she drank when she was a child.
“I’m not a participant when it comes to the masquerading aspect of the evening. My mother attempts to convince me every year, but I’m not one to play at idle games.”
“Don’t you find the masquerading amusing? The idea of dancing and socializing while hidden behind a mask sounds enthralling. And tonight, it serves my purpose well. I noticed a solid blue mask near the bottom of the pile. It would complement your suit.” She looked up at him with a hopeful note in her voice.
Phin’s amber eyes locked to hers, his expression unreadable. When he did not reply, she replaced the lid on the box, but he stalled her hand. His grasp, incredibly strong, awoke an unbidden spark of desire that intensified the intimate confines of the carriage.
“Far be it from me to ruin your fun.” His low murmur whispered through the shadowy lantern light. “Tonight, for you, I will make an exception.” Then he winked at her and she forgot to breathe.
With purposeful fingers he removed the blue domino and placed it on the bench. Penelope detected an approximation of indecision and wondered at his odd expression. Did he hold his own secret? Or worse, did she look too deeply, tainted by her experience and wary of everyone since Simon played her false? All her misery began and ended with that one despicable individual.
“I am hopeful I will be able to locate the person I seek this evening. Imagine my good fortune if it should all prove so easy.” She tried to sound as if her future did not depend on it.
“I will assist you in any manner I am able.”
He appeared relaxed again, his eyes sincere.
“I realize you have only requested an escort, but were you to tell me the gentleman’s name I could help with expediency.”
Indecision forced the butterflies in her stomach into a panicked flutter. She strove to keep her courage intact and breech the uncomfortable silence. “I wouldn’t want you or your mother to feel any type of involvement on my behalf. You have already shown me great generosity.”
Sensing his disappointment, she focused on the domino lying beside him. His fingers worked idly at the edge of the mask, his skillful movements manipulating the ribbon in a repeated pattern. His hands, large and powerful, exuded a sense of control and she exhaled with calm. Transfixed, she watched his fingers bend, then smooth, the thin ribbon in a repeated motion. How might it feel were those same fingers tilting her chin to capture a kiss? Or intertwined in hers as they shared a waltz? Good lord, she was every kind of fool. Having once risked her heart with disastrous results, why could she not learn to be more prudent?
Upset she may have spoiled the evening before they’d arrived, Penelope fumbled for any explanation he would accept. “I’m sorry I cannot explain further. It’s a private matter and as such, is imperative I find and speak to him alone.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” He turned to her with a serious look, his face half lit by the lantern, handsome and unwavering in the fractured light. “I will shadow you, protect you and keep you under my watchful eye until this business of yours is concluded.”
His statement pre-empted argument and she wondered at his protective attitude. Did she imagine his tone implied something beyond friendship? The niggling thought refused to sit right. Wasn’t this how she found disaster the first time? By not seeing things clearly?
The carriage pulled to a stop interrupting her muddled considerations and Penelope promptly exited, grasping Phin’s arm as he led her away from the drive and down the candlelit walkway. She almost stumbled when he stopped without warning, his purposeful strides veering them off the path and behind a tall hedgerow.
“Phineas?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if they played a child’s game.
Without a word, he positioned her gently, his fingers embracing her bare shoulders and with a twist, she no longer faced him. Then he slipped from her grasp the mask she’d long forgotten, bringing it over her head while he deftly sorted the ribbon ties.
“It won’t do for us to walk inside without our disguises in place.”
Although his words rushed past her ear, his fingers stalled in motion. Two of the ribbons fell and brushed against her shoulders. Phineas fumbled to recapture them, his knuckles sweeping across her cheekbone in an unexpected caress. Then he shifted position, and muttered something under his breath.
After a motionless minute, she could no longer contain her giggle. “The mask is slipping.” Her cheeky smile buoyed it into place. If only she could see his face and understand what he was thinking.
Instead standing in the intimate shadows, she heard him mumble words undecipherable as his fingers tightened the knots. After a rough sounding exhale, he stepped away busy with his own disguise, his body slanted from her view. They followed the slate path together and found themselves in the ballroom trailing an endless receiving line. There was nothing to do but wait, although the momentary delay offered the perfect opportunity to absorb the lavish decorations and opulent splendor surrounding them.
Brilliant crystal chandeliers, glistening with candlelight and shimmering reflection hung from the ceiling amidst streamers and bowers strewn with orchids. Servants, bedecked in their finest livery and laden with trays of sparkling wine, mingled through a crowd composed of pirates, shepherdesses and assorted wild animals, the masks perfectly matched to silk and satin formal attire in every color of the spectrum. Lively music filled the air, while conversation competed for attention within the revelry. Penelope hardly k
new where to look first.
“Ridiculous crush, really.”
Phineas tucked her hand into his elbow and snaked them across the room, past a tall couple masquerading as owls, and around the other side where they stood amongst the hundred or so guests in total anonymity. At least for Penelope it remained true as everyone appeared a stranger.
“Here comes Lord Chadling. Harold is a good friend of mine.”
Phin’s deep voice next to her ear shot a thrilling shiver straight down her spine, the excitement of being out in society getting the best of her. There was no other way to explain the odd reaction.
“But how can you recognize your friend so readily? Everyone is disguised.” She looked up into glinting amber eyes. The domino made him look mysterious and intriguing, and his lips…his lips were showcased below the edge of the velvet. Penelope lost all train of thought as she concentrated on his mouth and that wonderful cleft in his chin.
“Easily, actually. No one dresses as well as Harold and the debutantes all know it. See the twittering wave of commotion following as he moves towards us.” Phineas indicated a gentleman to the right only a few steps away. A collection of fluttering females trailed after him.
“Oh, yes.” Penelope smiled. The man appeared a sharp dresser in every way. He wore a rich waistcoat with intricate threaded embroidery and shiny gold buttons. Tight fitted pantaloons led to gleaming top boots while his white lace cravat, tied extravagantly, was pinned with a blood-red ruby. His masquerade domino enhanced the look with its stark black velvet contrasting his fair skin and blond hair.
“Harold.” Phineas nodded his head in greeting before his friend walked by.
“Devil take me, I didn’t know that was you. First the mask and then the lovely lady. You are in disguise tonight, are you not?” Harold stalled mid-step. He assessed the situation with a mocking smile.
“May I present Miss Penelope Rosebery.” Phineas introduced Harold and they exchanged pleasantries followed by Chadling’s prompt request to dance.
The Midnight Rake Page 6
