The Midnight Rake

by Anabelle Bryant

  Penelope reached for her teacup as Lady Fenhurst’s dramatic comments buoyed her disposition. If only she knew they considered the same incident, albeit for different reasons. She took a sip of tea, but didn’t taste it. As she replaced her cup, Jenkins entered the room to announce a visitor.

  “My lady, Lady Livingston has arrived.”

  Penelope thought she detected Jenkins’ usual reserve discomfited. Lady Fenhurst bade him to bring in their guest and they were soon seated with fresh tea all round.

  Dorothy Livingston proved true to description and at the least, eccentric. As a woman of advanced age, she wore the most current fashion, though something about her display appeared misplaced. She leaned heavily on a black cane with an ivory knob fashioned in the head of a panther, the ruby jewel-set eyes beyond compare. Her hair, adorned with a feathered plume in a deep teal color, blended with the grey streaked auburn of her coif. Several gold hairpins littered the back of her head, as if they’d been thrust in to contain the natural overflow. Her gown, made of the finest silk, gathered high at the waist where it met a daring neckline, all secured with a large ornate brooch and a collection of elaborate pins holding a lace fichu in place. Penelope stifled an amused gasp at the venturesome appearance she portrayed.

  On Lady Fenhurst’s direction, Jenkins rolled Mon Ami’s cage forward. Now accustomed to the parrot’s sudden squawks and unexpected comments, Penelope viewed the room with a wry little smile. The scene made for a rather outlandish tea party, most especially as the Countess fussed over the bird, cooing affectionately and feeding it nuts. Before Penny could consider it further, Lady Livingston’s silk glove touched her arm.

  “Accompany me for a turn around the room, dear. My legs ache from the long carriage ride through Mayfair.” Lady Livingston didn’t wait for a reply. “Besides, Victoria is too enamored with her silly pet right now to pay me attention. She misses her daughter terribly. I’m sure she’s enraptured to have not one but two females to dote over, spoil and accompany about. You are doing her a great service, as much as you assert she’s assisting you.”

  Lady Livingston reached the room’s perimeter, her heeled slippers offsetting the dull thump of her cane as she moved at a leisurely pace. Penelope fell in step beside her, offering the endearing woman a heartfelt smile. Lady Livingston possessed a likeability that easily explained her popularity among the ton. Reaching for her arm with a gentle grasp, the two began to circle the room.

  “If she fussed over her husband the way she attends to that bird, they’d have a much richer marriage.” Lady Livingston spoke softly, even though no one could hear the cheeky comment.

  Penelope stifled her unexpected laughter. Lady Livingston was proving to be as full of surprises as her outlandish dress. “Oh, I haven’t met the earl. He’s not been in house since my arrival.”

  “Oh, you won’t likely meet him either. He travels for months at a time. When at last he concludes he should visit home, you will be well and married.” Then her voice rose as if to supply a piece of innocuous conversation within everyone’s hearing range. “Victoria tells me you’re looking for a man. Well, aren’t we all?”

  Unsure if the question required an answer, Penelope remained silent. Instead she focused on the older woman’s diamond jewelry where she clasped tightly to her arm. There were easily three ornate rings on each hand, one more extravagant than the other, and a smart collection of bangles too, one adorned with a ruby ladybug.

  Lady Fenhurst, who had been listening to the conversation, chose to interject, her attention drawn from Mon Ami.

  “Not any man, Dottie.”

  Penelope grinned. How appropriate that this flamboyant woman go by such a gregarious moniker.

  “Penelope is looking for someone in particular. We thought with your extensive knowledge of the ton you were the veritable resource we needed to locate the man. And after we settle this matter, I hope you’ll assist me with my next visitor.” Lady Fenhurst’s eyes followed them as they continued to advance around the perimeter. “I’m consorting to arrange a match for Phineas. He will never know what hits him when he sees the lovely dove I’ve secured.”

  Victoria Betcham delivered her words without taking a breath, confirming she had one solitary mission to see her son married. A rush of nervousness caused Penelope’s stomach to twist.

  Dorothy leaned a bit closer and offered another conspiratorial whisper. “I assumed Phineas preferred a different type of bird altogether.”

  The older woman patted her hand where it lay on her arm and Penny matched her eyes with prompt attention. She knew Phineas was a full-blooded male to the heart. It would appear Lady Fenhurst’s desire to see her son as a paragon of virtue left an alternative impression with some members of the ton. The misunderstanding made Penelope quick to defend him.

  “Oh no, I’m positive that’s not true.” Penelope flushed at hearing the conviction in her tone, her face immediately heated.

  “Good for you, my dear.” Dorothy eyed her, drawing fast conclusions. “Now tell me about this other gentleman, the one you seek so I may assist you. Victoria speaks the truth. I have been alive long enough to be acquainted with everyone seeking notoriety and all other miscreants in between.”

  Having circled the room twice, they moved to the sitting area ready to give the conversation their full attention.

  Dorothy took a sip of tea, then replaced her cup in the saucer and adjusted her bodice, the weight of an emerald brooch pulling the fabric out of form. “Let’s get down to business. Tell me about this man you seek.”

  “Well, he’s a liar and a thief…” Penelope stopped herself mid-thought. “I apologize, Lady Livingston. I should not have said those things about Simon.” Again, blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment.

  “Never mind dear, and please call me Dottie. All men say pretty things and steal our hearts making your description fairly accurate in my perception. What brings you here to find this man? Has he wronged you or are you simply chasing him because you fancy yourself in love? I’m not sure I approve of this match. Anyone would be foolish beyond permission to abandon such a beautiful lady as yourself.”

  Victoria stood abruptly. “How true. Let me find our copy of the social register. Julia keeps it somewhere in this salon. Perhaps on the writing desk.” She continued in a vehement tone, her words trailing after her as she crossed the room, “If only all gentlemen would practice impeccable manners. Phineas would never take advantage of a lady.”

  “If you ask me, there lies the problem,” Dorothy mused in a near whisper.

  Penelope looked down at her hands to hide her smile. “Lady Fenhurst may not know her son as fully as she believes,” she answered sotto voce, amused by their conversation within the conversation.

  Dorothy caught her eye and winked with approval. “Now things are getting interesting.”

  The old woman drew back and adjusted the sagging bodice of her gown, but the weight of the jeweled brooch caused the material to droop as soon as her fingers released it. Penelope followed the action and awareness caused her breath to catch.

  “Lady Livingston, I mean Dottie,” she corrected in a flurry of words, “your cameo brooch resembles a piece of jewelry my mother favored. I understand it came from a small collection created by an Italian artisan. I’ve never seen another piece with so many similarities.”

  Dorothy glanced to the pin at her bodice. “You must be mistaken. This is a rare piece by Dilgano. Look at the translucent agate intaglio and delicate features of the cameo face. The workmanship is unmatched.”

  Dorothy removed the pin with care and held it flat in her palm. The filigree work of the gold frame looked identical to the cameo Penelope once owned. The woman’s face, carved intricately into the delicate shell appeared the same in every detail, an exact replica of her mother’s cameo. Had the intaglio been green agate instead of blue, she would have sworn Lady Livingston held her mother’s missing brooch, the same one with which Simon absconded. Dorothy seemed reluctant to p
lace the brooch into her extended hand, but more the pity she would have liked to examine it closely.

  “There were only five brooches created before the artisan died.” Dorothy’s eyes clouded with emotion. “The romantic story tells how Dilgano sought to create a masterpiece beyond compare to win the affection of his beloved. As is the case with many artists, he remained plagued by his desire for perfection wanting the woman of his heart to possess his finest work. Dissatisfied with his creations, he completed five cameos before discovering the lady he admired had married another. He never gave her the gift that obsessed him. It is said he died of a broken heart soon after.

  “Regardless of Dilgano’s faults, his workmanship is flawless. The five brooches are priceless and highly regarded. No one could possess one without knowing the history and its worth. You must be confused. To own a Dilgano would secure one’s elevated position forever and guarantee wealth without a doubt.” Dorothy replaced the pin and patted Penelope’s knee in reassurance.

  Penelope remained silent. Dorothy’s story presented another riddle to solve. Could her mother have owned such a valuable brooch and not known the worth? Or not told her father? Rather unlikely, considering her father’s undeniable desire to elevate their station, that he would possess such a priceless piece of jewelry and not use it to its full advantage nor tell Penelope or Aubry during his decline. Questions whirled through her mind. Each possibility presented new queries, equally confusing. Dottie must have misconstrued her thoughtful silence as reticence.

  “You realize now you are mistaken. I understand. It is an alluring piece of jewelry,” Dorothy replied, her tone a mixture of compassion and kindness.

  But Penny did not need reassurance, positive her mother’s cameo matched the piece made by Dilgano.

  Unfortunately their private tête-à-tête ended, interrupted by the arrival of her aunt. Before Penny could digest the information shared by Lady Livingston, she was wrapped in her aunt’s arms and sent to find Aubry and return to the salon for a visit.

  The errand proved to take longer than anticipated and by the time she and her sister found their way back, Dorothy had departed and the remaining two women merely spoke of mundane niceties. Penelope’s heart sank at missing the most important details. She burned to know what Lady Fenhurst and her aunt instigated in regards to Elizabeth and Phineas. Oh, she had promised her cousin she would assist in the match, but she claimed no enthusiasm in the task. She doubted she would be able to assemble any true eagerness. The better plan seemed to write Elizabeth a note and explain how Phineas was the last man she’d want to marry. On more than one occasion she’d heard him swear off the institution. Clearly that did not bode well when husband shopping.

  Still, she owed her cousin a debt by asking allegiance in hiding her true reason for coming to London. Whatever Lizzie told her mother, it proved effective as her aunt did not so much as question her, aside from asking of her health and plans for the future.

  At the end of their visit, little progress had been made in her quest to find Simon. Instead, Dottie had mentioned a newcomer named Arlis Ridley and how the man was quickly becoming disfavored within the ton. It would appear men with a history of licentious behavior were not nearly as rare to society as Penelope thought true.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Phineas landed a swift punch combination and ducked to the left as his sparring partner attempted the same and failed to connect. He couldn’t keep the vivid remembrance of Penny and their stolen kiss from his mind. Every time he envisioned her pink mouth made for seduction, he lost all thought other than to bed her. Hoping to excise his obsession, he connected with a jarring left hook. He couldn’t catalogue their kiss as an extraordinary mistake by the mere fact it felt too extraordinary, so where did that leave him? He threw a solid right and then another.

  Harry and Constantine stood near the corner of the ring, carrying on a conversation as if they reclined in his study and not at Jackson’s. The dull thud of punches striking sand-filled bags and the occasional grunt of a nearby boxer detracted little from their heated discussion.

  “I understand Ridley balked on his payment of the grey. Things became heated when Trump confronted Ridley and the damnable man had the bollocks to threaten the lord. I realize you’re no longer interested in the horse, Phin, but I thought you should know since Ridley used underhand methods to win the thoroughbred in the first place.” Con shook his head in disgust.

  “I’m not surprised Ridley finds his pockets empty. Just as many men hold his vowels at the club as Winton’s.” Phineas ducked to avoid an oncoming blow. “His luck is running out.” He could not explain the undeniable inkling that something untoward meant to happen. The feeling lingered, ever present, and the more he discovered about Ridley, the stronger his foreboding of ill intensified.

  Phineas landed a cross punch that buckled his sparring partner’s knees and ended practice. The two men tapped fists and moved apart.

  “Don’t like the chap much today, do you?” Harry watched as the defeated boxer staggered past.

  “Let’s say I needed the exercise and leave it at that.” Phin unwrapped his fists. “Trump’s ordeal, or not, I’m bent on confronting Ridley. Can I depend on both of you? I wouldn’t doubt the arse pulls a weapon.” He spat the words, his low opinion of Ridley evident as he jumped from the ring.

  “It’s as if he’s determined to achieve self-destruction by his careless actions. At first I assumed it all motivated by greed but who knows what drives him?” Con’s face lost all pleasure. “One thing is clear. He doesn’t want to cross me.” His menacing tone echoed the threat of his words. “It’s only a matter of time before he turns up on the wrong side of living.”

  Harry nodded his head and Phin needed no encouragement to agree.

  “London gentlemen live by a code of honor. The Trumpington auction ended underhandedly but that incident only proved the beginning of his transgressions. He can apologize, confess and leave town, or take a beating while he changes his mind. In the meantime, Ridley would be wise to stay out of my path.” A satisfied smile curled Phin’s mouth. With no doubt he could easily take the man, but Ridley would not fight fairly. It would suit everyone involved if the blackguard decided to move on, out of London, and away from the people he cared about most.

  Not much later Phineas began his ride home. His townhouse was a usual peaceful respite, but at present not only a squawking parrot and officious mother made him reluctant to venture there. Being out of house provided him the opportunity to escape the bewitching temptation of Penelope’s smile. How could she swear her loyalty to a man who left her unprotected and brokenhearted, yet look at him with affection—no, desire? He’d had his share of fickle relationships. No wife, happy life. He cursed into the wind. How stupid to believe denial would be as simple as four words.

  Halfway through Hyde Park and in no particular hurry, he noticed Elizabeth Bretton and her mother in an open carriage. As was fashionable, they meant to parade through the park in hopes of being seen, but Phin remained curious about her relationship with Penelope and he had been previously introduced. Convincing himself to act on behalf of proper etiquette, he aligned Abacus to walk beside their coach. The tiger slowed at once and they soon fell into step at a conversational pace.

  “Viscount Fenhurst, how delightful to see you this fine day. I understand you met my daughter only a few evenings ago through an introduction by my niece. I regret the two of you did not have the opportunity to dance. Elizabeth is an excellent dancer.”

  The effusive greeting reinforced every reason he avoided situations like the one he’d initiated. Marriage-minded mothers reminded him of a wasp’s nest: each needed to be handled with care or the consequences could be dire. Gritting his teeth to invoke patience, he donned a perfected grin of complacency. He needed to speak with Elizabeth alone, but how would that be accomplished with her mother hovering nearby envisioning him in a wedding coat?

  “I will make a point of it at the next function. Today,
I ask permission to escort your lovely daughter through the park. We’ll remain on the path where your driver can follow.” It was an innocuous suggestion in broad daylight in Hyde Park. The ton would have something to talk about and he graciously offered what any hopeful mother wished for most. The woman beamed her assent.

  “Yes, I will have the footman pause so Elizabeth may step down.” She vigorously signaled to the tiger then turned her anxious attention in her daughter’s direction.

  A few minutes later with Abacus trailing the carriage at a considerable distance, they strolled the flower gardens. Before he could make the proper gesture, Elizabeth looped her arm with assertive affection through the crook of his elbow. She laid her opposing hand atop as if to lock him in place. The cost of the gossip would be worth the price if he could learn more of Penny’s problem.

  With a slight tilt of his head, he assessed Elizabeth’s petite profile. She was a comely woman. Of course, she didn’t have fetching freckles or hair that glistened like molasses syrup, but she would do fine on the marriage mart, no doubt. But what of Penelope? She seemed so determined to find the elusive blackguard who claimed her heart it caused him unfailing worry and concern. Realizing he shared limited time to gain information, Phineas spoke to the point.

  “Thank you for agreeing to this impromptu stroll. Your cousin has intrigued me with her problem, but she’s reluctant to share her reasoning. It’s my hope you can help me understand her actions. London can be a dark and dangerous place for someone who innocently mistakes a man’s intentions.” He threw a glance over his shoulder before leaning closer. “I am concerned she may be embroiled in something she knows not how to resolve. Have you considered the same?” He walked, eyes straight forward as if they discussed the weather or other mundane subject, although he noticed an immediate change in Elizabeth’s countenance. Her words spilled forth, only they were nothing he anticipated hearing.