“Make introductions, won’t you, Ridley?”
A man with a lecherous gleam in his eye nodded in her direction. She noticed a vein ticking near Simon’s right eye. Having observed the same reaction in the past, she now read it for what it was. A small part of her shrunk with immediate panic, but a strong fortifying breath dismissed her sudden desire to flee.
“Miss Rosebery, what a clever surprise. You catch me unaware or I might have penciled my name on your dance card.”
The bitterness in his voice belied an attempt at witty conversation. She lifted her chin to hold back the accusation itching to leave her tongue.
“My lord.” Her voice shook and she inhaled a steadying breath. “I’d be delighted to share a dance this evening as soon as the orchestra begins again.” She forced an even tone of congeniality and refused to capitulate even though her heart hammered in her chest. She knew his mind spun with a dozen different ways to disarm her.
Con’s deep timbre met her ear with a conspiratorial whisper. “Phineas will knock me flat if I allow you within ten paces of this man.”
Unaware he had shadowed her, Penelope’s eyes narrowed in question, a look of confusion tossed over her shoulder, yet Constantine persisted.
“Lord Ridley is trouble. His is not an introduction to benefit your reputation.”
She sent him a tremulous smile. No matter he discerned her unnatural nervousness, nothing, absolutely nothing, would take this opportunity from her. It meant everything in the world to her and Aubry’s future.
Besides, Constantine was mistaken. He’d called Simon, Lord Ridley? She spared no time to consider it and with the first notes of music, extended her gloved hand for the dance.
The waltz afforded them privacy. Penelope held herself in rigid deference, offended by the touch of Simon’s hand clasping hers. Anger simmered in a threat to civility. She concentrated on the steps for the first turn before she mustered her voice.
“Did you think I would never find you? You stole everything we owned.” Strength replaced any lingering trepidation, her voice vehement as she listed his heinous insults. “Father’s health failed under the strain of your treachery. He died earlier this year. We all trusted you. Does it not matter in the least?” Anger and distress peppered her whispered accusations.
“Aah, hard knocks have fortified you. Do you regret not being of the same resolve months ago? It is unfortunate you cannot relive the past. By the by, you need to stop calling me Simon as it was never my name, just a clever ruse to assist in covering my tracks were your father set on seeking Bow Street. Now learning of his timely death, I need not have worried.”
Penelope struggled to digest his unremorseful response. He reacted as if she’d complimented his illicit deeds. She bowed her head to collect her conflicted emotions. How naïve to believe he would show any signs of repentance.
They turned within the dance and Simon leaned forward, his breath striking her cheek. It took every ounce of power not to recoil.
“And with whom did you share this little story? Surely to cast guilt in my direction, guilt that could never to be proven, would cause you to fall further than you have already. The awkward truth remains that with your father gone, you have no one, no evidence, no recourse. So why are you here?”
The man considered himself untouchable, safe from recrimination, using her father’s death as fortification. Penelope clenched her teeth to temper the desire to strike him. He should be embarrassed and humiliated, made to feel as foolish and regretful as she had every day since his departure. Aware the opportunity to speak would be fast ending once the music ceased, she rebelled.
“You must give it all back. Most especially my mother’s jewelry. Her cameo is dear to me.” Her voice shook with urgency and emotion.
“You foolish girl. I wouldn’t have taken what you suggest I did, had I any desire to return it. I only regret not having taken more from you.” His hand tightened on the small of her back. “Seeing you here amongst society dressed up pretty improves your appeal.”
The congenial mask she wore for the sake of appearance dropped, and her eyes lit with anger. An overwhelming frustration, at being left alone to confront this horrible man and resolve her future, challenged her determination while despair struck swiftly, scolding that she should have taken Aubry’s advice and confided in Phineas from the start. The fear she’d be left penniless even though she’d located the one man who held all the answers, intensified and demanded restitution. The conflict of emotions held her immobile until a sudden parting of the crowd on the parquet floor forced her attention away.
She was dancing with a dead man. Phineas struggled to contain his anger as he viewed Penelope in Ridley’s embrace at the center of the dance floor. A familiar black feeling roiled with intense objection, but he would not permit jealousy to obscure rational thought. He devoured her, cataloging each excruciating detail.
Her eyes never left the scourge in her grasp, her skin flushed pink. Was she blushing from some intimate compliment or flirtatious murmur, her head inclined as if poised for the cleverest rejoinder? Her lips barely moved when she spoke, her words a secret. Did she offer affection, still enchanted after Ridley wronged her? His eyes raked over her length, halting midway. Damnation, Ridley’s hand wrapped her gloved fingers in a vise-like grip as if he could not draw her near enough, the other hand lost in the silk at the base of her spine. Fierce emotion, ugly and destructive, clenched his heart. He swallowed hard and suppressed the impulse to lunge for the man.
With calculated effort, he took the final steps needed. Guests hurried out of the way, not knowing what to make of his imposing height and fierce expression. A hushed wave of questions circled the room with lightning speed. It just wasn’t done, but scandal be damned. From the corner of his eye he watched his mother push through the throng of dancers motionless on the edge of the floor. All the while Ridley held Penelope intimately within the waltz frame.
When finally she turned in his direction, her face revealed surprise. He offered his hand, his arm outstretched to draw her from Ridley, but at her resistance, total possession took control.
“It doesn’t appear the lady wishes to go with you, Fenhurst. You’re interrupting our dance.”
Ridley’s voice rang loud securing distasteful things would be whispered by the gossipmongers. Phin was too far gone to worry about such foolishness.
“You have no claim on Miss Rosebery. Excuse yourself, and shut your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” He flexed his fists, anxious to make use of them. Only Penelope’s safety held his temper in check.
Daring a glance, he couldn’t decipher her expression, but seeing Penelope within Ridley’s embrace pushed him beyond all boundaries of tolerance. With brief execution, he contemplated the scenarios that might ensue. It would do no good to strike the man here in the ballroom. Too many people could intervene and prevent him from pummeling Ridley senseless and finishing the job.
Releasing Penelope, Ridley leaned forward, his nose barely an inch away, while she stood almost as close, her face stricken with concern.
He spoke in French, his demeanor arrogant, while his comments intended for Phin’s ears only, carried to Penelope with ease. It was a glory she did not understand the language because translated, the blackguard boasted every man should keep a country whore ready to pluck whenever he fancied. He ended on a note of laughter and invited Phineas to enjoy his discarded conquests.
He should level Ridley with one punch. Using every ounce of civility, he uncurled his fists. “Name your second. You insult not only the lady, but my code of honor. Lord Colehill will serve as…”
“Phineas!” Lady Fenhurst’s outraged exclamation pierced the ballroom and the twittering crowd quieted to hear every word. The musicians remained silent. Not even the shuffling of clothing or scuff of shoes rippled the air. “You will—”
“Stubble it, Maman!”
Withstanding the collective gasp, Phineas would not be deterred even while Con pursued a resolu
tion.
“We should attempt to resolve this as gentlemen.” Con nodded his head in opposing directions indicating the two men standing toe to toe in the middle of the dance floor. “Follow me to the drawing room. I will mediate the disagreement and find a satisfactory solution without the threat of a duel come sunrise.”
Not wishing for anymore unwanted attention, Phineas heard Ridley grunt approval, a clear glint of recklessness in his eye ascertained a duel would have suited him fine. Phin had no desire to draw pistols. The pleasure found in physically striking Ridley for the horrible insult he boasted too rewarding. The punishment he’d offered the man the night before was nothing compared to the pummeling he deserved.
One word cut through his haze of anger.
“Wait.” Penelope’s voice trembled, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak. “I need to join you.”
He viewed her, so determined and lovely, lost in the middle of their confrontation with myriad emotions flittering across her face, and the hard glint of desperation in her eyes. Seething with personal conflict, he’d almost forgotten her stake in the situation. When he’d finally fitted all the pieces together on his interminable ride to the event, his concern for her welfare overwhelmed him to the core and the same protectiveness blinded him now.
And jealousy, devil take it. When he entered the room and saw Ridley twirl Penny across the floor, a fist of possessiveness gripped him with such force he could not breathe.
What words could he offer? His heart ached with the emotion evident in Penelope’s eyes, but he couldn’t allow her to follow him. Knowing little would placate her, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Chère amie, this is not a matter for you to solve.”
He knew she would object. Her entire body stiffened. Then the musicians resumed their melodies and people began to mill about, although a good amount of guests remained motionless anxious for the latest on dit.
“Considering it is my future, my dowry, and my past instigating this confrontation, I find it infuriating I would be excluded from the resolution.”
Her vehement objection guaranteed she would be livid once they had the opportunity to speak later. Regardless of the consequences to their own relationship, he needed to protect her above all else.
“While it may be true, it is not what brought me to this challenge.” He leaned in closer, his voice firm. “I mean to protect you. Ridley has insulted your honor and reputation.”
She offered him a look of outrage. Beside them, Con cleared his throat and initiated their leave. The scheduled entertainment had resumed but they continued to present a spectacle on the ballroom floor. The three men moved with alacrity toward the hallway, Penelope dogging their steps.
They entered an empty drawing room across the hall and Phineas told himself not to glance over his shoulder, but he did, catching a glimpse of Penelope’s pleading expression. It transformed into pure betrayal as the door closed. He couldn’t let her dejection color his purpose. He strode to the center of the room, disallowing Con the chance to breach the subject, and launched at Ridley, landing a solid right to his jaw. His head snapped back with a crack. Phineas exhaled fully and smiled.
“Shall I address you as Ridley or Maddock?” His voice hung sharp. “You’ve come into London like a scourge, lying, cheating and greasing your way through town. It’s no surprise you are the blackguard responsible for Penelope’s past sadness and current predicament.”
Ridley backed away a few steps although his mouth was running fast. “I thought we left the ballroom to avoid a fight. Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Phin impaled the man with a scathing look, daring him to repudiate the insulting accusations pinned to his name. When Ridley remained silent, Phin worked to unbutton his gloves, the action snapping Con to attention before Phineas speared him with a menacing glare. His friend best not suggest he seek an apologetic handshake or Phin wouldn’t be responsible for the violence that followed. He narrowed his eyes and considered where to hit Ridley next. Perhaps a solid punch to the midriff would have him coughing up answers. That is, if Ridley remained standing after the blow.
“We are here to resolve, not ignite the problem.” Con’s voice was laced with warning. “An apology for the insult to Miss Rosebery’s honor is the priority of this meeting.” He turned his attention from one man to the other. “If Ridley’s apology does not meet with your approval, you may declare your weapons, seconds, and meet in Richmond Park within forty-eight hours for a duel. This will not be settled with fisticuffs.”
Phin retreated to a spot across the room, no longer trusting himself to be near Ridley once his explanation began. Constantine knew of his boxing ability. Needing to keep his hands busy, he fished his lucky penny from his pocket and passed it purposefully from one palm to the other to mollify his temper.
“I’m agreeable to the terms.” Ridley rubbed his palm across his jaw, the skin already showing signs of swelling. “Ridley is my surname and how I choose to spend my money is no one’s business but my own. I suspect you’re angrier about losing Trump’s stallion than any insult voiced against the Rosebery chit.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Phin clenched the coin in his left fist. “Gentlemen in London live by a code of honor. Your manipulation of the horse auction and distasteful insult to Penelope are offensive without doubt, but there is something in your history I cannot dismiss with a mere apology. You swindled the Rosebery family. You will either return the funds you stole or I’ll contact a Bow Street Runner and have you arrested before morning.” His voice resounded with finality in the otherwise quiet room.
“You have no proof other than the lady’s word, and her opinion soured after I lost interest. You impugn my honor. Your false accusations can never be proved.” He punctuated his statements with a disdainful snort.
Phineas tossed the coin he held in a high arc above their heads. He snatched it from the air extending his closed palm toward Ridley. “Are you bold enough to risk your future on the flip of a coin? Heads, we fight like men, no weapons, two days hence at Richmond. Or tails, you return Penelope’s monies and belongings before taking your permanent leave.”
Con remained unusually quiet, the air heavy as they waited for Ridley’s response.
“You can’t prove a damn thing. You’re bluffing.”
“No longer confident, are you?” He motioned with his fist. “I have the cameo in my waistcoat pocket. I won it when I beat you at piquet. It’s an original piece once belonging to Penelope’s mother. How would you explain it to Bow Street?”
“Another bluff. A random piece of jewelry? That cameo might have belonged to anyone.”
“No, not random at all. You tossed it on the table in front of a circle of witnesses. I’ve conferred with Rundell and Bridge on Fleet Street and had it confirmed as a Dilgano. The most prominent jewelers in London estimated its value at fifteen thousand pounds. You sought only to bilk the Rosebery family out of their household funds, but you inadvertently stole a fortune and then tossed it away. The fact that this particular cameo found its way into your pocket is no insignificant matter when coupled with Penny’s accusations. It will condemn you now.”
Ridley’s eyes flared, but he remained silent. Con wore an expression of confident impress.
“Call it, Ridley. Heads, we settle this with fisticuffs and never make mention of it again. Tails, you return the monies and get the hell out.”
“This is nothing more than a sorry attempt to cut a sham and have me admit to something I didn’t do.”
“Suit yourself. I haven’t visited Jackson’s all week. I could use the practice.” He recognized the capricious look in Ridley’s eye, certain the man weighed his options. “If you think you will get your greedy hands on this cameo or Penelope, let me make myself crystal clear. Don’t go near her. Not close enough to breathe the same air. I’ll protect her with my life.” He’d long before dropped his hand, the coin clenched in his fist, but he raised it one last time.
&
nbsp; “Heads.” Ridley spat the word, an ugly sneer twisting his lips as Phineas opened his fist revealing the silver profile of King George III.
“Then we have an appointment. Two days’ time.”
Ridley back-stepped, perhaps wary Phineas would lunge regardless of their agreement. Then he turned and left the room, the door barely closed before Con rushed forward.
“What the devil were you thinking? You mean to fight him? Ridley can’t be trusted to abide by the rules. How did you know he would take the bait? What if he’d chosen tails?”
Phineas took a deep breath before replying. He turned the coin twice over in his palm, amused as Con’s smile slid into place.
“The coin shows heads on both sides?”
“Did I not mention it is my lucky penny?”
Relief replaced all earlier tension to leave only questions in its wake. Con went to the sideboard and filled two snifters with liberal portions of brandy. Phin accepted the drink, took a long swallow and swirled the brandy in his glass before speaking.
“I only bought us time. I will never be satisfied until Ridley disappears and Penelope no longer lies in harm’s way. At least I had the good sense not to tell her I gained the cameo. It may prevent the bastard from pursuing her, if for no other reason than to come after me instead. Although then it would be easy work to lay him out flat and connect him to multiple crimes.”
“So Ridley is part of Penelope’s past?” Con took another sip before setting his glass down.
“It’s a complicated story I will gladly explain later. With hope he accepted my claims concerning the cameo, as I’ve not visited the jewelers and took a liberal leap of faith.”
“Telling mistruths? Challenging men to duels? This is a side of you I’ve never seen. You do realize you told your mother to stubble it in front of over one hundred guests?”
The Midnight Rake Page 20
