Lady Penelope's Christmas Charade, a Regency Romance (15 page)

Emma—he was speaking of Emma, their one link with Cicely. She fixated on that morsel of information and ignored the urge to slap his lordship once again. Out the corner of her eye, Penelope spied the young woman turn to leave. Discreetly, Penelope applied her elbow to Pierce side and turned her chin towards the young lady as she ascended the stairs.

"Ah," Pierce sighed, watching Emma through narrowed eyes. "Actually, Cavendish, I would have a bite of that tasty bit o' stuff. Could you send her up to us tonight for some fun?"

Chapter Fifteen

Pierce downed the whiskey in one large swallow, and then tugged off his cravat. Damn Cavendish and his bloody roaming eyes. The way he had looked at Penelope, like she was a sweetmeat waiting to be devoured…especially when he had just finished pleasuring himself with Emma…who the hell did that blackguard think he was?

He flopped into a chair. At least they were out of sight of prying eyes. They had both retired to their assigned bedchamber, after much innuendo and jesting from Cavendish, of course. Penelope was in the adjoining sitting room, her graceful back to him as she rested in a chair, her arms outstretched. His heart lurched. What an extraordinary woman she was. She dyed her magnificent hair, exposed herself to all sorts of indecent proposals and jeers, and left her lovely townhome for the dubious pleasures of a
Christmas
stag party, all for what? To
find her missing maid. T
hat kind of loyalty was rare, especially among the gentry, and especially between a gentlewoman and her maid.

She must trust him. She must, surely. She entrusted him with so much—her safety, her welfare on this harebrained pursuit of a missing servant, and even her virginity. That, of course, was an accidental trust, so to speak. He never would have guessed a widow would be untouched. But it filled him with an agonizing blend of devotion and admiration, even so.

How could he repay such
honor
? He began to do so the moment he refused to take advantage of her while they were together in the country. What more could he do to prove he wasn't just some rogue who went about deflowering widows?

He flicked a glance at Penelope again. If she was awake, she was definitely being quite still. He studied her, absorbed by the strange beauty of her hennaed hair. Could he tell her about the Howland family? About being Lord Pierce Howland? No. She had told him over and over about how men were deceitful, particularly the gentry. If he told her the truth, she'd cast him in with that lot. And then he would lose her forever. Damn Lord Peter
Annand
and his proclivity for other men. He certainly had left a mess behind him, and now Pierce had to find a way to clean matters up.

He polished off his whiskey, and closed his eyes. Penelope was resting and so should he. Tonight Emma would come up to their room, and they would have to question her—but in a manner that didn't set off any alarms. That would be quite a task. And then, he would have to spend the night with Penelope without touching her…he twitched nervously in his seat. The only remedy for his current discomfort would be drink—lots and lots of whiskey, to be precise. But there was no way he could get in his cups tonight. He needed all his wits about him while trying to find out more about this case and any possible connection to the problems plaguing the Gilded Lily.

A sudden knock on the door brought him to his feet, his hand reaching for the revolver he placed on the mantel for protection. Penelope leapt to her feet, her hands clasped tightly under her bosom. "Who's there?" she whispered, her dark emerald eyes wide.

"I don't know." He grabbed the revolver and waved her aside. "Conceal yourself until I determine who is there."

He crossed the room in two strides and wrenched the door open, holding the revolver out so it could be seen by whomever was out there. A small blonde girl—no more than a girl, really—jumped backwards with a gasp.

"Who are you?" He was in no mood for games.

"My-my name's Emma," she whispered. "Please, sir. May I come in?"

He darted a glance around the corridor. No one was there. He motioned her in and shut the door softly. "Who sent you here?"

Penelope crept in from the sitting room, and spying Emma, rushed forwards. "Oh Emma," she cried, enveloping the girl in a warm embrace. "My only link to my dear Cicely."

"Cicely?" The girl shook her head, a confused look crossing her face. "You know Cicely?"

"Both of you—speak softly," he warned. He kept the revolver close to his side and leaned against the door, even though he had already locked it. "I don't want anyone to know why we are here."

"Why
are
you here?" Emma shook her head, her blonde curls bobbing. "His lordship sent me because he said you required my services. But I was hoping I could prevail upon your good nature, sir. I-I don't want to go with anyone except his lordship. Can you please just, well, pretend that we did?"

"Of course we will," Penelope soothed, patting her back. He would have said the same thing, of course, but Penelope jumped in, taking control as she always did. "His lordship—is cruel to you?"

"No, not cruel." Emma gave a long, s
huddering sigh. "I'm besotted with
him, but he doesn't love me—not in the same way I love him. I came to this party to be part of the, well, entertainment, but I fell in love with him at first sight. But he would never, ever love a common girl like me."

Pierce resisted the urge to agree wholeheartedly with the poor gel. It was highly unlikely that Cavendish would ever even install her as his mistress. The man hated to be tied down even to one woman when it came to pleasuring his needs, if his behavior was any indication. It was much safer to direct the conversation back to their original purpose than to allow the girl to run on about her everlasting love for such a blackguard.

Pierce cleared his throat. "Emma, we came here not for the dubious pleasures of this weekend. We are seeking a young lady named Cicely. You know her, I believe?"

Emma nodded slowly, pulling away from Penelope. "Yes, I do. Who are you?"

"I am
Lady
Annand
, Cicely's employer," Penelope butted in, assuming control of the conversation as she always did. "Cicely went missing and I haven't been able to find her. Do you know where she is?"

Emma's eyes widened as she took in Penelope's daring frock and dyed hair. "You mean,
you're
Lady Annand
?"

"Yes." Pierce jumped in, wresting back control of the situation. "I am Pierce Howe, a professional thief-taker.
Lady Annand
hired me to track Cicely down. We have tried every way we could to find her, and my investigation led us to you, and hence, this party. Do you know where Cicely is?"

Emma's eyes darted back and forth between Pierce and Penelope, as though she were trying to gauge if they were telling the truth. "Is Cicely in trouble?"

"That's what we want to know," Penelope put in smoothly. "She is a dear girl and it is not at all like her to go off missing like this. I am worried about her." She took Emma's hands in hers. "Please, if you know anything about her, you must let us know."

Emma nodded, pursing her lips. "She came with me as I was seeking employment. I hear that the Barclay Agency helped young girls find good positions in gentry homes. But when we arrived, we found it quite different from what I had imagined." She darted a glance over at Pierce, her cheeks turning pink. "But, I needed the money and I was not opposed to earning a living in that manner. Cicely was horrified and told me I could find better employment with you,
Lady Annand
."

"It's true," Penelope burst out. Pierce shushed her with a warning finger. After all, they were quite near to discovering the truth.

"Cicely was offered a position but she said she already had a good job with you,
Lady Annand
. She only came with me because I didn't want to go alone. As far as I know, she left that day and went back to her position with you."

"She didn't." Penelope's emerald eyes were sparkling with frustrated tears. "If she didn't stay at the Barclay, where did she go?"

"If she didn't return to you, then it may be that she went off with her young man," Emma supplied helpfully. "She was that taken with him, and they had spoken of marriage before."

"He hasn't seen her." Penelope's voice trembled dangerously. He could not bear for her to cry.

"If Cicely didn't go with you, and wasn't with her young man, then where would she go?" Pierce demanded, seizing control once more. Surely this girl knew something about it. Surely she had some idea.

Emma shook her head slowly. "I can only think of one thing. Whenever someone in our family takes sick, we go to visit Aunt Bea in the country. She has an old tumbledown cottage on the outskirts of the village. It's possible that Cicely went to see Aunt Bea."

"Very well." Pierce nodded briskly, extending his hand to help her off the settee. "Which village is that?"

"We all grew up in Dunstable." Emma accepted his hand and allowed herself to be pulled onto her feet. "Aunt Bea lives on the edge of the village. Ask anyone, and they can tell you how to find her home."

Pierce glanced over at Penelope, whose anxious face and bright eyes revealed her disappointment. "It seems there is a trip to Dunstable in our future."

She plucked at her shawl, nodding sadly, but for once said nothing.

Pierce showed Emma to the door. "Don't breathe a word of what we've spoken of to your employer." He withdrew a five pound note from his waistcoat pocket and pressed it into her hands. "We do not want our identities to be revealed."

Emma nodded and tucked the money into the fichu at her neck.

Penelope leapt up from the settee, dashing after them. "Emma, do you want to come with us? I would gladly give you a place in my employ. Any relative of Cicely's is welcome in my home."

Emma smiled sadly—an expression that made her appear suddenly jaded and worldly-wise, aging her by a good ten years. "No, thank you, your ladyship. I know that Lord Adam is a bounder but I cannot help myself. I would rather be here with him, and stay by his side until he no longer wants me."

With that, Emma turned on her heel and left, and with her, the last hopes of finding Cicely in Derbyshire.

***

Penelope pressed her lips together to still their trem
bling. It would never do to lose
face in front of Pierce, who always seemed so calm and so collected, and who took this grave disappointment as a matter of course. But the surge of disappointment that flooded her being simply would not be stilled. She was so sure they would find Cicely as soon as they found Emma. And now, they merely had established that Cicely wasn't at this dreadful party in Derbyshire. More rabbit trails to chase. It seemed they never would reach the end.

"It seems no light skirt I meet needs rescuing," she finally admitted, trying to sound cheerful. "I feel badly for that gel. Lord Adam will toss her aside for sure."

Pierce nodded. "I must agree. There is no future in that relationship."

He sounded so…so sad, even. Penelope affected cheerfulness again. "But then, many's the time a commoner has fallen for gentry and been disappointed. She should guard her heart."

Pierce's head snapped up. "Is it only the difference in their situations that dooms their relationship, my lady?"

Penelope's stomach dropped at his tone. Why did he sound so serious? "I suppose so."

He nodded, his eyes raking over her. "I see. I would have thought it was Lord Adam's odious personality that will end that affair."

She turned away from him, back towards the mantel. They had waded into deeper waters than she was prepared for, and she needed to break his hold on her. "I don't know, Pierce, all I can say is I expected more from that interview than an admission of undying love for Cavendish."

"Penelope, I know you are disappointed, but take heart." Pierce's warm baritone rumbled in her ear. Heavens, how he crept up on her—it was most unnerving. "We will find her. I must say I am glad we didn't find her here, among such sordid company."

Penelope shivered at the tickle of his warm breath in her ear. "May we leave now and go to Dunstable?"

"No."

The single word dropped like a stone. Penelope turned and glanced up at him, unsure she had heard aright.

"Why not?" Her voice sounded petulant and demanding, even to her own ears, but she could not hide her emotions.

Pierce's face grew dark and shuttered. He was hiding something. "I need to investigate a bit more, Penelope. Something about this place isn't right, and I intend to find out more."

"But Pierce, how much longer do we need to stay here?" Every moment longer in this place was a moment away from their goal. And it was also unbearable to be in such close quarters with Pierce, and unable to do anything about it because of his stupid scruples.

"Give me at least one night, Penelope," he asked. "I shall dine with the gentlemen tonight and see what comes of it. Perhaps I can find the answers I seek with just one large brandy and some cigars with the fellows."

"What are you seeking?" Penelope edged closer, staring him full in the eye. She wanted to know the truth. Surely his strange behavior was all interlinked somehow, beginning with the night that he had sneaked off after making love to her in the carriage. "Perhaps I can help."

He took a step backward. "No. I don't see how you can assist, Penelope, when I myself don't know what I am seeking."

"So what am I supposed to do? Stay up here and twiddle my thumbs while you have a drinking party with the boys?"

"No, of course not. If you want to dine with the ladies, you may. Or I can have them send you
dinner
on a tray. You seemed quite fatigued earlier, so you may wish to retire early."