Authors: Anabelle Bryant
“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.
Penelope rose from her chair, hesitation slowing her steps as she moved toward him. “I should return to my room. I will be terribly tired if I don’t get enough rest.” She cocked her head and looked up into his eyes as if angling for a peek into his soul. He shifted with discomfort under the scrutiny of her sparkling green gaze. “Thank you Phineas, and good night.”
Unwittingly reluctant to lose her company, he scrambled for something to say before she left the kitchen.
“Yes, well thank you for the conversation and for eating the last currant square.” Aghast, he desperately wished the words back. Had his brain gone missing? What utter nonsense did he mumble? He attempted some sort of logical rejoinder. “And sweet dreams, Penelope. You deserve sweet dreams.”
She left and the kitchen grew painfully silent making his groan all the louder in the stillness of the night.
“Jenkins!” Phineas strode into the morning room and stepped through the French doors leading to the garden terrace. “Jenkins, where are you?” He caught a glimpse of the stoic butler’s navy blue uniform, perplexed why the servant did not offer a prompt reply. Understanding dawned as he moved to the slate tiles.
“Good morning.” Phin greeted his mother and offered Jenkins a curt nod in the process. The servant stood in full view, his arms laden with pink roses, while his mother cheerfully snipped the blooms from a nearby bush and piled them higher. The servant would have preferred to do anything else, his tolerant grimace testament to the fact, but the sudden squawk from Mon Ami caged a few paces to the right and the flash of distress mirrored in Jenkins’ eyes served as confirmation.
“You might have asked a maid to assist you this morning instead of humiliating my butler.” Phin sat on the wrought-iron bench and dared not look in Jenkins’ direction.
“Oh posh, he doesn’t mind and I’m nearly done. Besides, I’ve sent every available maid upstairs to assist with the ladies’ final fitting. The modiste arrived earlier with a carriage full of designs. Obtaining a new wardrobe is a wonderful way to begin the day, and yet I have further news.” His mother added a final bloom to Jenkins’ extended arms and bade him hurry inside to place them in water.
Phin’s eyes caught the butler’s for an empathetic glance as the servant strode past. He hoped the good man could see the apologetic message intended. Then he wandered to the corner of the terrace, angling a glance to the upstairs windows, as if wishing alone would cause Penelope to materialize there.
“Today,
mon chéri
, is a wonderful day.” His mother removed her gardening gloves and took a sip from her teacup.
“Why is that?” He poured himself a cup, anxious to erase the edge of frustration that lingered from the night before. Venturing out to Pall Mall had yielded little. Instead, it had denied him the pleasure of sharing a dance with Penelope. Dedicated as he was to helping Julia, he did not feel so self-sacrificing he didn’t mourn the loss of an evening shared in Penny’s company. If he were to be forced into the role of guardian, he might as well reap a few benefits. Their unlikely late-night assignation in the kitchen compounded his intrigue. In truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he would only have the opportunity temporarily. The uncomfortable thought stalled his fingers as he stirred sugar into his cup. Then he pushed the realization aside and took a long sip, the tea too hot.
“Chef Pierre arrived last night, prepared for artistry in the kitchen. I planned a lovely dinner for the four of us. You will be present, will you not? I was disappointed you left the Pimbles’ affair early.”
A fluttering of wings drew his attention to the cage in the alcove, but instead of the usual screeching, the parrot actually articulated words.
“Find a wife. Settle down.”
Good lord, was it possible the blasted beast could understand their conversation? He speared his mother with an unabashed glare of annoyance and watched as she raised her teacup to hide a guilty grin.
“I am happy the ladies’ presence has cheered you.” He shook off his frustration. Chef or no chef, sharing time with his little Penny seemed much more the thing. How would he manage to keep her company and also keep his desire in check? The constant reminder she loved another did not do the trick and she was not
his
little Penny. Yet after their cozy little interlude in the kitchen last night, he could easily imagine her being such.
Now where had that ridiculous idea sprung from?
“
Très bien
, I have arranged for Aubry to have the best instructors. Watercolors, dancing, pianoforte, etiquette…”
He interrupted his mother’s litany in a tone sharper than intended. “Such a rigorous schedule. Have you discussed your plans with the ladies?”
Victoria stroked the petals of a nearby rose. “Yes, of course. Penelope and I conversed last evening at the masquerade. I grow impatient with your brief attendance to these events.” She paused to give her words due emphasis. “Where did you disappear to?” His mother’s cheerful countenance transformed into one of displeasure. “I know you’re uncomfortable with this responsibility, but while the ladies are here I depend on your assistance.”
“My apologies. It is never my intention to cause you discomfort.” He reached for a biscuit and took a large bite, not ready to offer more in way of explanation nor break his promise to Julia.
“Very well, but I expect you to attend dinner this evening. Have I told you how thrilled Chef Pierre is to have your appetite in house?” His mother’s demeanor brightened. “I’ve asked him to prepare all your favorites and a few specialties as well. Is there anything in particular you wish him to cook?”
“Does he have a recipe for parrot?”
Maman ignored the
bon mot
. “It is much like you to retain one of France’s most notable chefs here in England.” He paused to finish the biscuit. “There is no denying how much we will enjoy Pierre’s culinary talent.”
“What are you planning to do with your day?”
Phineas cringed. One of the drawbacks of having his overbearing mother residing in house would be her constant interrogation of his whereabouts. The idea of such badgering made his brain twitch. He snaked a finger under his collar to loosen his neck cloth.
“I am visiting Devlin and Lexi this morning.” He walked again to the edge of the terrace, chancing another glance to the upper windows. No one was there.
“Oh, their precious
bébé
. How I wish for a grandchild of my own.”
He turned and almost collided with Maman, who spun with a grand gesture fully recovered from her malcontent only moments before. She beamed in a way only a hopeful mother could achieve, until her foolish bird interfered.
“Find a wife. Settle down.”
Phineas narrowed his eyes at the creature. “What is the life expectancy of a parrot? Those delusional outbursts are surely a sign of near death.”
“
Alors
, you tease me.” His mother paused for barely a breath. “You must admit you’re nearing an age when marriage should be a serious consideration. I do not understand your reluctance. More the pity your sister gave her heart to that horrid man…” Her voice trailed off as if no words were capable of expressing her displeasure.
Phin strove to remove the conversation from his sister’s condition. He noticed how concerned his mother had become with societal appearances since Winton stopped making suit, although not one misplaced word reached his ears.
His past added another layer to her concern.
Touching her arm in reassurance, he offered one of his best smiles. “I would not miss dinner for the world. Would you like me to extend the invitation to Devlin and Lexi?”
“No, no.” Maman gave a dismissive wave. “We’ll arrange for an introduction in the near future. Tonight let us keep our dinner intimate.” She glanced at her teacup, exorbitantly interested in the beverage. When she needed to be, Victoria Betcham could be most devious. “You should know, son, it was not your fault. You are a good man. Anyone who knows you understands your loyal integrity. You need to forgive yourself because your reluctance to—” Her words were nothing more than a gentle whisper.
“I will not discuss the past. Not now, not ever.” He rose from the bench and threw a warning glare in her direction.
“You need to put it behind you. Forget you ever—”
“How I choose to handle my personal affairs is my business.” He raked his fingers through his hair, unwilling to dredge up unpleasant emotion to satisfy his meddle-minded mother.
“
Quelle horreur!
You do not pay visit still?”
“I have long outgrown the need for a nursemaid, so my whereabouts should be of no concern of yours.” He made no attempt to disguise his sharp tone. In many ways he had recovered, reordered his life, and he would not invite dismay to re-enter.
“I am worried.” Her voice dropped in register, tighter than a harp string.
An awkward silence stretched. Even Mon Ami remained silent. When it became evident neither participant would continue the uncomfortable conversation, Phineas released a long sigh and bent to kiss his mother on the cheek.
“Dinner is at seven. Be punctual.” Almost as an afterthought he heard her add, “
S’il-vous plaît
.”
“Yes, Maman, I will be there.”
Not much later Phineas arrived at Devlin’s home. Dropping the knocker, he opened the door and nodded to Reeston the butler, before taking the stairs two at a time up to Devlin’s study. As a frequent visitor, Reeston had long foregone the formality of an arrival announcement. In turn, Devlin enjoyed threatening he would enforce the rule now that he was married and often otherwise occupied. All concerned knew it would never come to pass.
With an exaggerated clearing of his throat, Phin entered the room and greeted Devlin and Lexi. The couple sat on opposing sides of a chessboard and hardly spared him a glance, their eyes glued to the ivory pieces. The couple enjoyed ridiculous wagers and Phin wondered what lay in the balance on this particular morning.
A short time later, a swift play concluded the game with Lexi’s objections. Devlin stood, offering his wife a hand before stepping away from the table.
“So what brings you out for a visit, as if you need a reason?” Devlin dropped into the chair behind his desk, his eyes following Lexi as she rang for Reeston, her request for lemonade and sandwiches a welcomed idea.
“Funny, that.” Phin made the droll reply as he moved to sit in a wing chair angled for conversation. Then he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Actually, I am curious as to Alexandra’s conversation with Penelope. I understand your wife offered her advisement in selecting the gown worn to Pimbles’ last night. I was too wrapped up in finding Winton to ask about it when we met at the hell.”
And too itchy with desire to discuss how breathtaking and beautiful Penelope appeared.
He shifted his eyes to locate Lexi in the room. “By the by, you must stop doing me favors at one point. You have been generous beyond a fault.”
“Not a chance. Without you, I would never have gotten far enough out of my way to find my lovely wife.” Devlin captured Lexi’s hand, pulling her backward onto his lap. “It is impossible to show you how grateful I am. Besides, assisting Penelope had nothing to do with it. Lexi told me she is very likeable. Who would have thought such a delightful little treasure could appear on your doorstep? Oh and that reminds me, I ordered you a new Nottingham reel. It will be delivered next week.”
Devlin was the type of man who commanded authority. No reason existed to usurp what would come to pass anyway. Phin smiled and thanked his friend for the generosity.
“So tell me more about Penelope.” Devlin kept his attention on his wife nestled securely in his lap.
Phin noticed how their eyes communicated as if words were a nuisance, and they could read each other’s thoughts with nothing more than a glance. A sudden unresolved yearning welled inside him and he tamped the uncomfortable feeling down.
“A little treasure yes, you are on the mark. Penny is delightful.” Startled by his own hesitancy, he continued in a more sincere tone. “She has a unique way about her. I have never met a woman with the quality. Delicate, and at the same time exceptionally brave.”
He refused to acknowledge Devlin’s surprised expression or Lexi’s broad grin. Instead he pushed words out at a faster pace, hoping to convey every reason why his friends’ ready assumption that he would soon be courting Penelope would not stand to reason, even as he watched Lexi subtly nudge her husband.
“Do not draw any convenient conclusions. With Julia visiting Brighton, I seek only to present my mother with a well-needed distraction.” Even to his own ears, his voice held little conviction.
“She is quick to smile.” Lexi prodded her husband for the second time. “And also
very
pretty.”
Her voice ended on such a wistful note, no one could mistake the implication of her comment, but Lexi persisted as if the words needed to be said aloud.