Authors: Anabelle Bryant
Breathe. She needed to breathe. Logic faltered and anticipation weighed down every effort. Would he kiss her? Should she allow it? Indignation was forgotten in favor of pleasure.
He captured her cheek in his palm and she blinked hard, not wanting to miss the slightest detail. He lowered his mouth,
his beautiful, sensual mouth
, a whisper away from her own and with a sigh of surrender, her eyes fell closed with exquisite expectancy of Phineas Betcham, man of her dreams—
“Phineas!”
They sprang apart as Victoria Betcham’s voice broke through the hedgerow.
The sound of her heeled slippers on the flagstones did not override the harsh expletives escaping Phineas as he stepped back to answer his mother’s bidding.
“Dinner is ready. What could be taking the two of you so long?”
Lady Fenhurst arrived and Penelope sent a silent prayer upward in hope she didn’t appear flushed with guilt. She pushed away from the railing, relieved her knees regained their constitution.
“Yes, Maman, we are coming straight away.”
He offered his arm, and Penelope tried to hide the way her hand trembled as she clasped on to steady herself, his muscles tight beneath her touch.
They walked in silence, several steps behind his mother, toward the back entrance to the estate. Then Phineas turned; a smile slinked across his face and a charming twinkle in his eye.
“My mother’s timing may have spoiled our moment, but you owe me a boon and I never forget a debt, sweet Penny. Of this particular debt, you can be sure.”
Dinner ran with smooth elegance and Chef Pierre proved he’d missed the audience as dish after dish graced the table, each more delectable than the last. They finished the main entrée of
poulet au vin blanc
, but were it not to one’s liking the master chef had prepared twelve courses in all from thick soup to superfluous sauce. As was his specialty, there would be sugarplums and charlotte for dessert.
Aubry excused herself from the table, her eyes proving bigger than her stomach. Mildly embarrassed, she left to recline in her bedchamber vowing to eat more moderately at the next meal.
“I’m afraid my sister is not accustomed to such an assortment of delicacies and could not resist having a small taste of each.”
Penelope attempted to make amends for Aubry’s need to leave the table but Phineas barely heard the words, too fascinated with Penny’s mouth. Her lips were the loveliest shade of pink ever seen and her bottom lip, so plump, begged to be kissed, licked, nibbled. He’d watched her hem it indecisively when considering a thoughtful response. He wouldn’t mind catching it between his teeth and having a taste. Now that he’d decided one kiss would purge him of his unexpected curiosity, his imagination ran rampant.
His mother gave a blithe wave dismissing Penelope’s comment. “Do not worry.
Nous la ferons un petit peu le français.
”
Phin chuckled at Penelope’s concerned expression. “Maman says she will help your sister become a little bit French while she lives here.”
“Oh, thank you. You’ve rescued me again. I’m not fluent with the language.”
She wrinkled her freckled nose and enhanced her beguiled expression. Phin hoped she didn’t feel embarrassment at the admittance. It took him years to master French and only then was he able to decipher his parent’s arguments with alacrity.
“Don’t worry. I am happy to serve as translator whenever the need presents itself. My mother becomes passionate when discussing important topics.”
Marriage, grandchildren.
He dismissed the immediate suggestions and offered a reassuring smile.
“As we all do. Now tell me, Penny, which course did you enjoy most?”
Maman grew more animated by the minute. She relished discussing food as much as he enjoyed consuming it.
“My goodness, I could never decide. Everything was so delicious, especially the
poulet au vin blanc.
” She pointed a tentative finger toward the steaming tureen of chicken and wine sauce as if unsure of her pronunciation.
“That’s Phin’s favorite. How perfectly convenient! It is a decadent meal. How do you say it?” She turned in his direction. “
Il fond dans votre bouche
.”
His fork paused, suspended halfway to his mouth. “My mother wishes to say it melts in your mouth.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to clear his mind. It was not a far leap for him to imagine tasting Penelope as if she were a meal to be devoured.
“
Oui, dès que vous avez un petit goût, vous voulez de plus en plus.
”
“That once you have a little taste you want more and more.” He forced a heavy swallow and snatched up his wine, curious if they still discussed the food. Between the tempting beauty seated across the table and the suggestive descriptions Maman needed translated, he would never make it through dessert without dragging Penelope upstairs to his bed. If his mother wasn’t present he would clear the table with one sweep and set Penny atop it.
Appalled at the futility of the idea, Phin vowed to stop entertaining wicked fantasies. He took a deep breath and exhaled in measures. Glancing in Penelope’s direction, he noticed she too had her glass refilled and sipped wine with vigor.
“Wait until dessert. It promises to be exquisite. Chef Pierre makes a charlotte so creamy and fulfilling,
vous devriez mettre tout cela dans votre bouche
!”
“Maman!” Phineas threw his napkin down on the damask tablecloth and shot from his seat. “I am not going to suggest she put the whole thing in her mouth.”
Across the table a fork clattered to the marble tiles.
“
Mon dieu!
What is the matter with you?” Maman appeared shocked by his unexpected behavior.
Reseating himself, he drew a long, steadying breath. “I think we understand how highly you regard the meal.” He sent his mother a sharp glare, wondering at her inconvenient ineptitude with English. He reclaimed his napkin with a mutter. “Perhaps you need to utilize Aubry’s language tutor as well.”
True to their planning, the next day Phineas and Devlin waited in the carriage as Penelope and Lexi shopped in the best milliner on Bond Street. Phin didn’t miss the gleam of delight that flittered across Penny’s face when he’d mentioned the outing. At times it would appear she experienced little joy in her lifetime and a deep-seated desire to offer her new experiences and protect her from disappointment added another layer of emotion to the complicated feelings he harbored.
“What dark thoughts are you considering?” Devlin rapped him on the knee as he posed the question. “You look angrier than an elbow-crooker who’s run out of ale.”
“Nothing.” Phin nodded with the curt answer. “So what was it you wished to discuss now that the ladies are busy spending a fortune on headwear?” He knew without a doubt Devlin would respect his abrupt change of subject and his friend proved on the mark.
“Talk continues concerning Ridley. He hasn’t made good on the purchase price for Trump’s grey and much as we suspected, he bid without the funding needed. Nothing is more despicable than a liar.” Devlin glanced out the coach window keeping a diligent watch on the milliner’s doorway. “Harold said Ridley started a fistfight at White’s when he accused Richardson of cheating.”
“Richardson? The man is as honest as a full day’s work.” Phineas huffed a breath of exasperation as he glanced out the window in turn. Their discussion of Ridley’s poor habits provoked his desire to see the ladies safely inside the carriage and under their protection. “Something about the man, other than the insult he poses against polite society, causes me to be wary of his actions.”
“I agree. Ridley is collecting enemies at a rapid pace. We should have Con ask a few questions. He entertains the best connections when it comes to this sort of thing.” Devlin slapped his gloves against the banquette in a restless gesture.
“True, but I’ve already put him out inquiring about Julia’s predicament.” Phineas eyed his friend, impatience lacing his words. “How many hats can there be in such a tiny shop?”
“Too many to consider, unfortunately.” Devlin scanned the street for the umpteenth time. “When it comes to asking Con a favor, I assure you, he’ll happily oblige. We’re all friends. We take care of our own.”
“Yes, I’ll mention it.” Phin dropped his gloves to the leather squabs before retrieving them a breath later. Then he tossed them aside and swatted Devlin’s knee. “Stretch your legs?”
“About time you suggested it.” Devlin sent a prompt rap to the ceiling and the men left the carriage.
Penelope slipped an exquisite Angouleme bonnet upon her head and tied the lavender ribbon at the side with a flourish. Trying on pretty hats was a new experience and one she soon realized became highly addictive. She turned to where Lexi admired her selection in the freestanding cheval glass. Her friend’s blonde hair contrasted beautifully with the delicate lace trim. Each hat appeared more breathtaking than the last. How would they ever decide?
Penelope reverently placed the bonnet into the hands of the attentive shopkeeper. She glanced toward the large glass window and considered the time they’d spent in the millinery because she could get lost for hours amongst the ribbons and plumes, but doubted the men wanted to wait long in the carriage. Pleased by the prospect of their planned afternoon, she didn’t wish anything to spoil the day and a ripple of excitement played a smile across her lips.
Phin’s broad shoulders and hard musculature took up a fair share of room beside her on the coach seat, but she would never complain. He smelled divine and whenever the carriage jostled over a rut, she had the inordinate delight of pressing against him, however brief.
“Penny, come look at the selection of Aigrettes in this basket.” Lexi’s cheerful voice rose above the murmur of feminine conversation throughout the store. “These feathered headdresses are the cleverest I’ve ever seen.”
Making her way toward Lexi, Penelope caught sight of a man hurrying past the front window. Her pulse skittered with recognition. Was that Simon on the outside walk? Could it possibly be?
“Oh, I must go.” She rushed around Lexi and out the door nearly colliding with a tall stack of bandboxes piled near the entrance. Her pulse drummed an anxious beat as she threw a frantic glance to the right searching the crowd before gathering her skirts in her hands and setting her feet into motion.
She struggled her way through the shoppers, but it proved a wasted effort, no matter how hard she pushed against the tide. Three blocks later, she paused to catch her breath. The crowded city streets overflowed with obstacles prohibiting her from following a clear path and her petite stature further disabled the search. A sorrowful sigh of resignation escaped and the heartsick feeling of disappointment replaced her earlier elation.
Without warning, steely bands encircled her upper arms and dragged her backward, snatching her from the crowd. Unable to catch her breath, she struggled to disentangle herself and also keep her footing amidst the jostling shoppers, but she proved no match for the strength of her captor. A feeling of panic washed over her as the broad press of a man’s form anchored against her body. Then Phineas’ voice, angered, yet welcomed, met her left ear.
“Wait! Hold there. Where are you going?”
A definite note of urgency strained his words, and something else, something unidentifiable but meaningful, sent a shiver of apprehension rippling through her from top to toes. The clamoring of the surrounding crowd, thundering chaos of horse hooves, and loud street vendors hawking their wares overwhelmed her, and she sagged against the support of his warm, broad chest. She was safe. Without objection, she allowed him to steer her into a nearby alleyway.
At first she thought all would be fine and they would stroll back to continue their outing, however as soon as she turned and eyed Phin’s face, any thought of a simple resolution fled with the same expedience as the hammering beat of her heart. He appeared furious and a deep well of dread settled in her stomach. By the firm set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils, sharp words would soon erupt. He’d released her from his hold, but the sparks in his stare held her immobile.
“Whatsoever can you be thinking?”
Penelope swallowed, her tongue thick, as she attempted to formulate a suitable reply. Even though he’d asked the question, he allowed her no recourse and his words overflowed to fill the scant space between them.
“Do you have any idea how much danger you could have caused yourself running through the streets willy-nilly after what I have no idea? You might have become lost, gotten trampled or dragged into a dark corner where no one would hear your cries for help. Look around you.” He threw one arm out to the side, his action slicing the air in reverberation of his words. “Any cutthroat or rum-touch would be mad not to be tempted by such a pretty little package wandering the city streets alone.”
Penelope blinked hard to disperse her tears. She’d never been one to buckle when faced with adversity and she would not begin now. She needed to explain. Straightening her shoulders and releasing a shaky breath, she gathered her courage and ignored how her hands trembled.
“I appreciate your concern, but it
is
full daylight and we
are
standing in the middle of Bond Street. I am fine. Everything is fine.” She brushed her hands down the front of her day gown, putting her skirts to rights and dismissing the discussion. If he’d expected her to express more complacency, he was mistaken. His harsh admonishment caused her to bristle more than lavish him with gratitude. It wasn’t as though she could fully explain.
“Everything is not
fine.
If everything was fine I wouldn’t be…” He pushed his fingers through his hair before releasing a forced breath. When he spoke again, his voice sounded low and controlled. “Crimes occur in London during the day hours all the time.”
The steely seriousness of his clipped sentence deflated any further rebuttal. She took a small step. “I would never have caused all of this concern were it not important.”
A discernible hesitation pierced the air. When he finally answered, his voice was no more than a raspy whisper, although a flash of wild anger lived in his eyes. “Nothing is more important than your safety, Penelope.”