She looked to Phineas, all at once unsure.
“Go ahead, my sweet.”
He stared at her intently, an odd look setting his lips in a firm line and confirming the unexpected tone of his reply. Penelope hesitated.
“It will offer you a glimpse of the guests in attendance because it’s so damnably crowded in here, it will be difficult to circulate otherwise.”
Harold did not wait for indication, sweeping her forward to the floor and fluidly into position.
He smiled as they began, a congenial expression, and led her into the motion of the dance.
“You are a pleasant surprise. While Phin is at times most forthcoming, he is also a man who keeps us guessing. Even in the company of his closest friends, he rarely attends social affairs, hardly ever with a guest, and absolutely never wearing a domino. You have worked three miracles in an amazingly short period of time.”
He spoke without missing a step, his voice hinting at amusement and Penelope caught the intent of his words.
“Viscount Fenhurst and I have become unlikely friends. I hope to locate someone here in London and the Countess proposed attending events of the ton to assist in my search. I’m not sure Phineas would be present otherwise. He’s already told me of his aversion to masquerades and the disguise required.”
Dancers swirled around them and they were prohibited from conversation as they neared the musicians’ corner.
“True, Phin is not much for the formality of social functions. He has always enjoyed the fresh air compared to the confining rituals of the ton. I’m sure it vexes his mother as she’s of an opposed nature. Phineas enters an event anticipating when he can effectuate his leave. He’s always gone from social gatherings by the fifth dance of the evening, a shade before midnight. One could set a clock by his withdrawal, yet the way he loves to eat, one would think he’d stay through dinner and dessert.”
Harold grinned as they completed another turn. He was an amazing dancer and with only a half glance at the gentleman’s charming smile, Penny understood why so many females clamored after his attention. “Well I’m hopeful he’ll stay long enough for me to get a look at as many guests as possible, even if they are wearing masks.”
Harold chuckled. “Know the fellow so well you would recognize him regardless, hmm? Well, I’d wager Phin won’t stay much longer. It’s already past eleven. You have been good for him. This may be a new social record.”
“Doesn’t he enjoy gathering with his friends?” Curiosity motivated the inquiry more than anything else.
The music ended and Harold led her from the floor. They’d almost reached the edge of the room when he turned with a disarming smile. “I’ve always assumed Phineas keeps a different kind of friend tucked away somewhere in London and he slips from these functions to go and visit her. It makes sense, considering his mother and her ambitious quest to see him settled.”
To her dismay, the conversation proceeded no further as Phineas rejoined them. Harold left directly, though his parting comment lingered and thwarted her every attempt to extinguish the questions it raised.
“Did you see anyone of interest?”
Phineas’ eyes darted around the room as if he knew for whom she looked. The idea pleased her. How quickly he’d become her champion.
Inching closer to his side, she went up on tippy-toe and strained to see above the crowd, using his nearness for balance. “I didn’t have an opportunity to search.” She stepped forward, a tiny opening in the crowd allowing her an advantage. “Would you mind if we took a turn around the ballroom? It may be crowded, but it will be the only chance I have to look at the guests despite they’re wearing masks.”
She glanced behind her, all at once entranced. Candlelight reflected in Phineas’ amber eyes and cast a golden glow across the thick tawny waves of his hair. He towered over her, shadowing her steps, and she forced herself not to reach for him, feeling suddenly unsteady, his closeness pure enticement. She needed to seek Simon alone, but how much better she’d prefer it if Phin held her arm as she circled the ballroom.
“Move about unescorted? I don’t think that a wise idea considering the amount of people here. I would never find you again.”
He delivered the words, his lips barely brushing the edge of her cheek, the possessive murmur for her ear alone. She could feel the firm wall of his chest against her shoulder and his cologne, an exotic mixture of spice and masculinity, awakened her senses; the immediate rush of awareness causing her heart to trip over itself. Before she could examine the feelings, he straightened with an abrupt turn toward the oncoming flow.
“Here comes Maman. She will take you around the room as she greets her friends. It may serve a dual purpose as I have an appointment to keep.”
Penelope watched as Phineas greeted his mother and explained the circumstances. Then much to her dismay, he thanked her for a pleasant evening, kissed her glove, and faded into the throng of people without another word. It all happened so swiftly she could only stare in bewilderment as an overflow of guests filled the vacant spot where he once stood.
Disappointment, a familiar feeling, replaced the thrilling prospect of being held in his arms. Instead, the unsettling remembrance of Lord Chadling’s assumption that Phineas left social functions with fastidious punctuality to seek out his paramour, cast pallor on the evening that could not be overcome.
Chapter Seven
Phineas swung into the saddle and allowed Abacus free rein. He’d discarded his domino in a potted plant as he slipped from the Pimbles’ masquerade then promptly hailed a hackney to return to the townhouse and retrieve his horse. Only now did he release a long breath and relax. The hour had grown later than he’d intended and Penelope presented a complication in more ways than one.
On the most immediate level, his role of reluctant escort at social functions would impede his jaunts into the night to investigate Daniel Winton. The man had become all but invisible since breaking off with Julia. Several inquiries yielded nothing. At least Con proved an invaluable resource by securing this bit of information. Phin planned to meet Devlin near the alleyway of a gaming hell holding his interest.
Penelope.
She presented another, albeit different type of problem. He had struggled to control any semblance of feelings toward her all evening. Damn Harold for asking her to dance and forcing him to allow it. Damn good manners. How sick and tired he was of succumbing to propriety when he wanted nothing more than to tell his friend to walk away. Harold was another delusional fellow with his mind set on marriage. Once a woman piqued his interest, little could stop Harold from pursuing her.
Not that it should matter. The irony proved rich. Penny sought a different gentleman altogether.
Still he’d be damned if he stood there and watched Harold escort her through the dance. He had stepped to the hallway to cool his temper. It was one thing to want someone, but the power in the wanting existed in the return of the same sentiment and there, too, lay the power to destroy someone’s heart. If he’d learned anything from the past, it was love proved a fickle emotion. He’d not be controlled by the weakness.
He nudged Abacus into a harder gallop as a ready image of Penelope dressed in her ball gown, the soft silk hugging every delicious curve of her delectable body, rose with clarity. He’d looked out the coach window for much of the trip to force his body to behave, however it proved all for naught. When their fingers intertwined as she offered him the ribbons of her mask, her hair as soft as corn silk whispering against his palms, he’d gone stone hard. Only her laughter spurred him into action. Otherwise he would have stood there indefinitely enjoying the lovely curve of her neck. How it dared him to lean forward and trail hot kisses further below. With effort he’d willed himself not to push his fingers into her hair and knock the pins free.
What would her hair feel like curtaining his body as she rode him into ecstasy? Or sweeping against his chest as he pulled her down and beneath him? The thought did little to temper his body. At the time
, he’d felt assured he could claim one dance for the evening, but Harold muddied everything with his intrusion. And to what end? Once Penelope located her mystery man would she float right out of his life as she had floated in? An unexpected flash of anger caused him to urge Abacus on.
Reaching the alleyway, he eyed Devlin near the wall, his dark hair and like attire making him another shadow in the night. Phin banished his conflicting emotions with a displeased oath. He tied off his horse before checking the knife kept in his left boot. One could never be too prepared and while he prided himself as an accomplished boxer, the Pall Mall section of London was filled with disreputable card sharps and ivory turners desperate and angry after emptying their pockets. He would leave nothing to chance.
“You’re late.” Devlin’s accusation held a tint of humor.
“I arrived as soon as possible. I came from the Pimbles’ masquerade and I…”
“Pimbles’? You despise masquerades almost as much as you despise gaming hells.” Devlin inclined his head toward the brick establishment across the murky alley. “Tell me why we’re here before I gain you entry.”
“Through a few discreet inquiries, Con learned Winton rarely misses the late night faro game on West Street. I promised Julia I would pursue the cad and discover why he has thrown her over.” Phineas paused considering his vow to his sister. “I appreciate you meeting me here in the middle of the night.”
“No trouble. Dedication to your sister and her distress is an honorable cause.” Devlin glanced across the alleyway and beyond to the sounds of questionable activities filling the night. “It does seem like forever ago I frequented these streets although a gambler I never became.” He laughed into the night air. “I doubt you considered asking Harold or Con to help you gain entry here.”
Phineas examined the ground, unable to disguise his guilty grin. “Without a doubt, you’re the best suited. Harry considers it scandalous to mention the words “gaming hell” and Constantine, I doubt he would relish being seen in a place like this.”
“It is nice to know you hold me in such high esteem.” An awkward silence chased Devlin’s mockery.
“Don’t be put off. Your history alone will usher us through the door. Now let’s get this over with. It’s already close to half one.” Phineas did not consider how his mother would object were she to discover where he ventured. She viewed him as a paragon of merit and etiquette. Nor did he contemplate his father’s opinion, as Phineas knew in the same deep timbered voice that forbade him from pursuing the military, the earl would object to him jeopardizing the pristine Betcham reputation. He considered the gold signet ring worn on his right hand. With title and wealth came responsibility: a lesson learned from his sire at a very young age and a constant reminder he remained accountable for everything Betcham in and out of London until his father returned from traveling the world.
Devlin gave a derisive snort, forcing him to the present.
“Yes, of course. Let me pave the way, as you are far too estimable and perfectible to take on the task.”
The men crossed the cobbles, avoiding a gin-drinker sleeping off his evening near the curb, and took the brick steps leading to the dark entrance of the hell. Across the street, arguing broke out; two men close to fisticuffs concerning the outcome of a game of hazard, although only their raised voices could be heard, the night a convenient cloak for all things reckless.
Phin sliced a meaningful glare in Devlin’s direction. The sooner they got on with their business, the better. He feigned a sheepish expression, moved to the side and indicated Devlin should take the foreground.
True to his word, the next moment they stood amongst the card turners and black legs frequenting the establishment while his promise to Julia kept his attention keen. They walked through the series of gaming rooms, glancing side to side for Winton, and soon realized the man they sought was not among the sketchy set of individuals playing at whist, faro and dice.
Set to leave, a table ripe with loud activity drew Phin’s attention and his temper flared. Arlis Ridley, as boisterous as he’d appeared at Tatts, played cards with a few gentlemen. If the chips in front of him proved any indication, Ridley was having a good night, though one could never be sure how much a gambler owed at any particular time. Their eyes met, but Phineas refused to acknowledge him. He returned to Devlin at the front of the hell.
“Winton hasn’t been in this evening, but he frequents this place often. We should try again later in the week. Con was spot on with his information.” Devlin cast another sweeping glance, intent on missing no detail.
“Could you ask around the club for me? I don’t want Winton to get wind I’m inquiring of his whereabouts and I can’t have Julia’s name brought into this.” Phin’s tone grew serious.
“I will ask a few questions at White’s and see what I can discover. One of the guards in the back told me Winton emptied his pockets numerous times this month. He is fairly deep in the hole and returns often in an attempt to recover his loses.”
The two men exited the hell and walked to their horses.
“It doesn’t make sense.” Phin hesitated before continuing. “Winton is well respected and from a good family. He bears responsibility for his four younger sisters, three of whom are marriageable age. I’ve never heard a single rumor of poor gambling habits attached to his name or I wouldn’t have allowed him near Julia.” He exhaled in frustration. “Inside the hell, I was told he’s up to his neck in debt. As the oldest of five children and the only male, Winton would be desperate to repay any money owed, wouldn’t he? Were he to gain the reputation of being rolled up in dun territory, his sisters would never be able to make a fine match. I have always considered Winton benignant and above reproach.”
For Julia’s sake, Phin hoped there was a logical underlying reason for Winton’s abrupt dismissal. But what could possibly cause his capricious behavior?
The two men parted and Phin headed home. With each passing mile, his frustrations lessened and by the time he reached the townhouse the only thing left gnawing at him was hunger. Famished, the insistent desire led him straight to the kitchen.
Intent on soothing his need with one of Cook’s short crust pastries, he moved silently down the hall not wishing to disturb anyone during the late hour. When he eased himself into the room, he was surprised to see a single candle burning in a holder, its flame a lonely flicker accompanied by the waning light from the kitchen hearth. The warm glow silhouetted Penelope’s slim figure where she sat at the wooden table, an empty plate and linen napkin placed before her.
His unexpected entry startled her and as he watched her eyes flare in surprise, he sought to make amends.
“I’m sorry. I did not expect to find anyone awake. Plagued by hunger, I thought to raid the larder.” His eyes fell to the empty plate before her. “I suppose you did as well?”
She looked up and her delicate brows drew together before she offered him a smile. He returned it in kind. “I suppose I was lost in thought or I might have heard your approach,” she replied with the barest hint of reflection.
“You know, any servant would be pleased to bring you a tray in your bedchamber had you only rung. Now that you and Aubry are staying here, you should treat my staff as your own.” He stepped closer to the table after finding a plate and utensils in the cupboard. He knew with certainty Cook mentioned preparing rhubarb crumble. If he could locate the pot where she stored the remainder, his stomach would thank him thoroughly.
“Oh, I could never trouble someone, especially at this late hour.” She glanced to the table and placed her fork upon the empty plate. “Besides, sometimes I don’t know what I want until I see it.” She shrugged her shoulders in a beguiling little motion and Phineas noticed the glint of candlelight reflecting against the sheen of her white satin wrapper. It was unseemly for him to be meeting with her in the kitchen at this hour, but by damn, it wasn’t planned. He simply sought a midnight snack.
“I know exactly what you mean. I came in here
determined to find Cook’s rhubarb crumble but now realize I may prefer a currant square. I hope one remains.” He took a seat and leaned forward, far too closely by any measure of propriety. “You have a few crumbs on your cheek.” He raised his hand to indicate where the bits of pastry stuck to the corner of her mouth, but in the same instant her tongue peeked out to remove them. The slick velvet of her tongue against the pad of his thumb sent a shock of awareness through him more powerful than any punch he’d received in the ring. Worse, the intimacy reverberated through his chest and flooded his blood with heated sensation that settled in his groin. Words failed. Motionless for a small eternity, he dropped his hand and moved quickly to the cupboard.
From the corner of his eye he watched Penelope raise her napkin and wipe her mouth. The glow from the hearth made her skin appear creamy and delectable and Phin suddenly realized she was the tastiest morsel in the kitchen. He let out a low, strangled sigh and struggled to keep the mundane conversation flowing.
“So let me see, was it rhubarb crumble or sponge cake this evening? Cook has a wonderful way with pineapple cream and sesame cakes” To discard the unsettling notion, he busied himself rifling through the shelves of the pantry, lifting lids before eyeing Penny seated at the table.
She looked to him through lowered lashes, the edge of her lips curled in the softest smile. “Actually I finished the last currant square. It tasted so delicious I am thankful only one remained or I might have been tempted to eat another.”
He cleared his throat with purposeful effort. “Resisting temptation can prove a difficult endeavor.” He reached to clear her plate from the table at the same time she lifted it. Their fingers entwined for the briefest of touches and he heard her short gasp before they matched eyes. Time stretched for several heartbeats until he swallowed with difficulty, desperately searching for something to say.
“Let me take that for you.” He walked to the sideboard and placed the plate and fork aside, all the while his mind spinning with confused emotion. Blast if he wasn’t more ravenous now than when he’d entered.
The Midnight Rake Page 7
