Damsel in Disguise

by Heino, Susan Gee

  But even after obtaining the locket, Fitzgelder had not produced that proof. A code, therefore, made perfect sense. If the locket merely contained damning evidence, why would Father have kept it lying around, leaving it for Mother when he died? No, if that were all it was, he would have destroyed it, and the thing would hold no value to Fitzgelder now. Indeed, Rastmoor should have realized there was more to it than they’d thought.

  But if Fitzgelder already had the code, why was he still interested in the locket? What the hell sort of “treasure” had the man been talking about? It sounded just short of rubbish to him, yet Julia had been convinced Fitzgelder was willing to murder Sophie to get his hands on it again. Was he? Or was Sophie, in fact, a part of his scheme? Not likely, he supposed, if Fitzgelder still believed her married to a nonexistent man named Clemmons. Unless he was lying about that in an attempt to lure Rastmoor into supplying further details about the locket and its supposed code.

  But Rastmoor had none. How did Fitzgelder come to know anything about this when Rastmoor had not? What made him so certain Penelope would be able to get it for him in the first place? Indeed, Rastmoor had a thousand questions, but they would have to wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making certain Julia and Penelope were safe from whatever treachery Fitzgelder might have planned.

  “So, I take it since Penelope gave you the locket you’ve puzzled out the code already,” he said. “You don’t need Clemmons or his runaway wife.”

  “Unfortunately, the locket wasn’t in my possession long enough for me to give it the attention it was due,” Fitzgelder grumbled. “Clemmons’s damn hussy took off with it. So, Cousin, it appears you and I have something in common.”

  “Oh, I very highly doubt that.”

  Fitzgelder sneered bigger. “How it must pain you to be reduced to an equal position with me. But truly, you and I are both at the mercy of this bastard Clemmons. So tell me, what are his demands?”

  Botheration. This line of discourse could only draw Julia into a dangerous situation. “I’m afraid you’ve made some hasty conclusions. Clemmons and I are here together only by chance. He was seeking his wife, and I thought to help him. I’m afraid I don’t fully understand what you say is his involvement with the locket Penelope offered to you.”

  Fitzgelder slammed his hand on the nearest table. The sputtering lamp standing on it rattled and shook precariously. “Like hell! Clemmons and his wife took the locket then headed out to meet you. Now here you are—together—just a stone’s throw away from the treasure, and you claim it’s coincidence? I’m not simpleton enough to buy that. What is Clemmons’s business with you? Tell me!”

  “The man’s wife is gone. He’s distraught. I took pity on the poor bastard, and there’s nothing more to the story.”

  “I’ll bet I could get something more out of Clemmons. Perhaps I should just go find the fellow and discuss this with him?”

  “No! He doesn’t know anything more than I’ve told you.”

  “You seem rather sure of that.”

  “I am sure of that. It’s his wife. She’s the one who wants the treasure. She was only using him to get it.”

  Fitzgelder seemed to pause long enough to consider this. “She doesn’t seem the type. She’s nothing but a dirty whore I pulled out of a brothel and let her work in my home because she amused me. She doesn’t have the brains to comprehend what that locket is or just what it could mean for her.”

  “And Clemmons believed her a respectable servant. That just goes to show, no one can trust a pretty face. She duped you both.”

  “Let’s go see this Clemmons and find out just who’s the one who’s been duped around here.”

  “I think we’ve done enough talking for one night, Fitzgelder. The locket is gone, and there is no treasure. I’m never giving my consent to your marriage to Penelope, and this is just a waste of our time here tonight. You should leave.”

  “Sending me away, are you? Shouldn’t that be Dashford’s prerogative?”

  “I’m sure he’d approve. You were, after all, not exactly invited.”

  Fitzgelder was getting red in the face, and Rastmoor fully expected more table pounding. The knock at the study door interrupted them, however. The butler appeared.

  “Beg pardon, sir,” he began in his steady tone. “Your mother has asked me to bring you word. Something rather urgent, I believe.”

  He wasn’t eager to receive urgent word from his mother right here in front of Fitzgelder, so he rose and went to meet the butler in the doorway. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

  “There is a problem, sir.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The evening air was thick with moisture, and the heavy clouds blocked out what was left of the sunset. Julia had no trouble keeping herself concealed as she followed the footmen out into the yard where they made their way toward the stables. Dashford’s luxurious estate had no shortage of hedges and garden foliage sending shadows every which way. Certainly all manner of secret undertakings could go on out here under cover of moonlight. She only hoped she would not lose the men as they carried out their master’s orders.

  Most likely they would simply deliver the note to a groom who would then carry it to Loveland. That would require time and effort to prepare a mount. Julia was counting on that in order for her own plan to work. She would wait until the footmen had gone back to their posts indoors and then stroll leisurely into the stables.

  As she was convincingly dressed in trousers and a fine coat, the stable hands should have no trouble recognizing her as one of their master’s houseguests. Hopefully, none of them had been informed of her status as a mute Italian. Why should they, after all? No one ever expected her to come out here.

  She would simply present them with her letter for Papa and ask that it be delivered with the other. For good measure, she thought it best to announce that Dashford himself had authorized this addition. Who would question such a simple request? The grooms would happily oblige, and her letter of warning would be on its way to Papa in no time.

  She waited quietly in the dark. The footmen delivered their message into the stable and, as expected, were soon heading back toward the house. Julia tucked herself behind a flowering shrub and waited. Thankfully, they didn’t dawdle—she was alone again in mere minutes. She would be free to scuttle into the stable and speak to the grooms before anyone had left for Loveland.

  Except that she wasn’t alone. Someone was tugging on her coat.

  Julia whirled around to find Penelope in the shadows behind her. Heavens, when did she get here? It was all Julia could do to stop herself from squeaking in feminine surprise. Penelope shivered in her light gown and smiled coyly up at her, one ivory hand still laid meaningfully on Julia’s arm. Well, drat. This was a bother she certainly did not need just now.

  “Were you looking for me, Mr. Nancini?” Penelope asked softly.

  Julia shook her head. Vehemently.

  “I was afraid you did not recognize the message behind my smile at dinner tonight,” Penelope went on. “But I’m so glad you did.”

  Oh, but this was awkward! However was she to extricate herself from this without making an absolute cake of it?

  “Come, come, Mr. Nancini. Surely this cannot be the first time you have met a young lady out in the garden in the night?”

  Well, actually . . .

  “They do have such lovely gardens here, don’t they?” Penelope said as she slipped her arm into Julia’s. “So very romantic. Are you quite fond of romantic gardens, Mr. Nancini?”

  Julia was quite certain she would never be fond of gardens again. Oh, but whatever was she to do? She didn’t dare give up her ruse, not with Fitzgelder so near, but she couldn’t very well let Rastmoor’s little sister seduce her out here, either. Heavens, but what a pickle.

  She tried to gently pry Penelope’s hand off her arm. It wouldn’t budge. The girl might appear young and helpless, but Julia found quite an iron will behind that sweet expression. Wonderful. This
was not going to make things any easier.

  “My, Mr. Nancini, but you do have the softest hands,” Penelope said then gave a wistful sigh.

  Merciful heaven, she had to get out of this. What on earth had she done to cultivate this ill-placed infatuation? True, she’d been purposefully entertaining and perhaps a wee bit more charming than necessary, but did she deserve this? Penelope clung to her like a weedy vine, batting her eyes and smiling incessantly. Not good. This could only end badly for the poor girl, and Julia—though she would have never thought it possible—was beginning to feel like a cad.

  Perhaps it was time for the truth. Yes, that was the only recourse. She would admit to her lies and hope Penelope might not run to Fitzgelder with the story. God, but this was a prickly patch she’d grown for herself.

  “Mr. Nancini, you seem so tense,” Penelope cooed. “Are you nervous here with me? Come, sit with me in this quiet corner where I might console you.”

  Console her? Good Lord, she was quite certain she needed none of that.

  “No! No, I’m quite fine,” Julia exclaimed. By God, just what sort of innocent and sheltered little sister did Rastmoor have?

  And then she remembered that Mr. Nancini could not speak. Drat. She’d just cried out—in flawlessly executed English. What would Penelope make of that? Julia took a moment from prying those fingers off her arm to spare a quick glance at the girl. Indeed, she was perplexed by what she saw. Far from being shocked, Penelope’s eyes showed she was laughingly amused. Really? Was the girl daft, or something?

  She didn’t get the opportunity to ask. Suddenly she was aware of human sounds nearby, and she looked over her shoulder just in time to find Rastmoor pushing his way through the foliage. He appeared to be wearing the shock on his face she’d expected to find on Penelope’s. Oh, botheration.

  “What the devil—” he began. “What are you doing out here?”

  Julia wasn’t quite certain if he’d posed the question for her or for Penelope, but she figured this was an excellent time to fall back into her role as a mute. Penelope, however, seemed to think this was an excellent time to provoke her brother.

  “What does it look like we’re doing?” she asked boldly.

  Julia glared at her. Heavens, but the girl truly was daft. Didn’t she understand what this would look like?

  “Penelope! Who is this?”

  Julia glanced over her shoulder again to find that Rastmoor was not alone. He was accompanied by—oh, Lord—Fitzgelder. Good grief. Things were not getting better.

  “Why, Fitzy! I rather thought my brother would have turned you out to the elements by now,” Penelope said.

  Fitzgelder appeared to be having the same reaction to that ridiculous nickname as Julia was having to the way Penelope cuddled up against her. Rastmoor appeared unable to know exactly how he should be reacting to any of this. Julia tried to catch his eye and silently share some of the helplessness she felt just now, but he eluded her. Probably for the best, though. It certainly would not help matters if the others were to question why Lord Rastmoor and his male companion were making eyes at each other while the former’s sister clung tenderly to the latter’s arm.

  “I was in the process of sending your dear ‘Fitzy’ on his way when I was informed you’d disappeared,” Rastmoor told his sister. “What on earth is Mr. Nancini doing to you?”

  What? He was accusing her of “doing” things to Penelope? Now he was daft, too. As if she was equipped to “do” anything to Penelope! Quite frankly, Julia was beginning to wonder if anyone was capable of “doing” anything to Penelope. It seemed to her Rastmoor’s sister was the one most likely to be doing the “doing.” And Julia, for one, would have very much liked her to stop.

  It would seem Mr. Fitzgelder agreed. “Nancini? Hell, Rastmoor, so you would lie to your own sister? Poor, sweet Penelope. You’ve been deceived. Mr. Nancini is a sham!”

  Julia’s pulse pounded in her ears. Fitzgelder knew who she was! Somehow he knew, and he was furious. What would he do to her now that he’d finally found her? What would he do to Rastmoor or Penelope?

  “He is?” Penelope said but didn’t push herself away from Julia as one might have expected. Despite the implication of Fitzgelder’s announcement, Penelope’s voice remained sugary sweet. “Anthony, you’ve brought a stranger into our midst and lied about who he is? For shame!”

  “This is pointless,” Rastmoor said, finally trying to control the situation. It was a bit late by Julia’s estimation, yet he continued valiantly. “Why don’t we all go inside and forget about this?”

  “Forget about it?” Penelope gasped at the mere mention of such a thing. “You expect me to simply forget what’s passed between me and Mr. Nancini here tonight? Never! I could never.”

  Lord, but Julia was confused. Just what exactly had passed between her and the younger woman tonight?

  “Damn it, his name is not Nancini!” Fitzgelder said. “He’s lied to you, Penelope.”

  “I don’t care,” she declared. “Since the first moment our eyes met, I knew we shared a bond. Names mean nothing; underneath, I’m convinced we’re two of a kind.”

  Well, Julia had to admit, Penelope did rather have a point there.

  “He’s a liar and a blackmailer,” Fitzgelder announced.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Now Rastmoor stepped in again. “Penelope, really. There are some things you don’t quite understand.”

  “I understand more than you know,” Penelope said, but her childlike pout and whining tone made it unconvincing. “However, I daresay if you hadn’t interrupted us so rudely just now, I’d have understood a considerable bit more.”

  “Good Lord, Penelope!” Rastmoor said.

  Julia was more than grateful they’d been interrupted when they were. There were some lessons she’d much rather not have a hand in teaching the eager Penelope.

  “And how do you know what I do or do not understand?” the girl said, facing her brother. “You haven’t been interested in anything—or anyone—since that, well, since that incident three years ago.”

  Here she sidled up to Julia again and slipped her hand through her elbow. “It’s really quite tragic,” she said softly for Julia’s ears alone. “The poor sap’s been nursing a broken heart all this time. I wonder if he’s mentioned that to you?”

  For the first time a shudder of understanding ran through Julia’s spine. She briefly met Penelope’s eyes and knew: Penelope was playing a game here. What it was, exactly, Julia could have no idea. But clearly Penelope was not as uninformed as they’d all assumed. Somehow she’d seen through Julia’s disguise. She knew who she was.

  Julia shot a glance toward Rastmoor. He still fumed at what he obviously assumed was his sister’s headlong attempt at disgracing herself. Whatever Penelope was up to, she certainly hadn’t informed her brother. Nor did Fitzgelder seem to have a clue. He glowered possessively.

  “Don’t listen to anything he tells you, Penelope,” Fitzgelder warned. “You’re too young and unsophisticated to recognize his lies.”

  Penelope frowned. “Really? I should think it would be easiest for those with a clear and honest conscience to recognize a lie when they hear one.”

  “Come, let’s take this indoors. We don’t—” Rastmoor began, only to be cut off.

  “Oh, thank God, you found her!”

  It was Lady Rastmoor rushing up beside her son. Penelope just smiled. She kept herself uncomfortably close to Julia, too, unfortunately. The lady took quick note of that.

  “Hello, Mother,” Penelope said sweetly. “Were you looking for me?”

  “Yes, by God, we were. You were not in your room, and with Fitzgelder prowling around . . . for heaven’s sake, do stop hanging on Mr. Nancini like that. What on earth is going on out here?”

  “I was just asking Anthony what he thought about me marrying Mr. Nancini,” Penelope announced.

  “You were not,” Rastmoor said.

  “I was about to!” Penelope s
hot back. “I think Mr. Nancini would make a wonderful spouse. He’s so gentle and witty. And he has the softest hands!”

  “Bloody hell,” Rastmoor grumbled.

  “But Penelope,” Fitzgelder said, “you are going to be married to me!”

  Lady Rastmoor sucked in a wheezing breath. “Gracious! Anthony, you most certainly did not agree to any such a thing, did you?”

  “No, of course not, Mother. I—” Rastmoor said but was interrupted again.

  This time it was Lord and Lady Dashford joining their little party. Julia thought to take advantage of everyone’s distraction to try again to pry Penelope’s fingers from her arm. It was useless. The girl had the grip of a falcon.

  “Good,” Lord Dashford said upon assessing the situation. “I see you’ve found the missing female.”

  “How silly that everyone thought I was missing!” Penelope giggled. “I’ve been here with Mr. Nancini all along. But I’m afraid Anthony thinks we must be married after this.”

  “I most certainly do not!” Rastmoor assured them all. Very likely he assured the entire county, the way his voice rose and echoed in the damp evening air.

  Now Lady Dashford joined the other lady in gasping from shock. “Married?”

  “You can’t be married to him,” Fitzgelder said firmly. “You’re already engaged to be married to me!”

  Penelope shrugged. “Oh, poor Fitzy. Our agreement was never official, of course. I said I might consider marrying you, but now that I’ve met Mr. Nancini, I’m afraid I’ve quite gone and changed my mind.”

  “But you can’t,” Fitzgelder said, seemingly stunned that his plan could possibly unravel this way. “He’s . . . he’s already married to someone else!”