Authors: Anabelle Bryant
“You’re here.”
A small hand slipped into his and Phineas kneeled in the hallway, hoisting Ben into his arms and carrying him the rest of the way into the kitchen where they settled together, child in his lap, upon a worn wooden chair at the table. “It is very late for you to be awake. Has the weather interrupted your sleep?”
“I’m too brave to be bothered by thunder.” The tiny voice held a proud degree of bravado and the boy wriggled his bottom so he snuggled closer still. “Mother said you would visit this evening and I could not fall asleep. I was too excited to see you. Last time I was not able to keep my eyes open, but tonight I have succeeded.”
“That you have.” Phineas ruffled his fingers through the lad’s sleep-tousled hair and smiled despite the circumstances. “Right now, these late night visits are best, although I am always delighted to see you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” came the drowsy reply.
The child had curled deeper into his embrace, his ear pressed to Phin’s chest, his lids barely open. Phineas raised his eyes to meet the gentle admiration of the lady in the doorway. Then he rose to return the youngling to bed so he could proceed with his plans for the night.
Penelope assessed her reflection in the looking glass and marveled at Lady Fenhurst’s achieved results. In less than a week, Penny’s wardrobe brimmed with day gowns, ball gowns and more accessorizing frippery than any woman could desire. Her sister had been treated to the same generosity, albeit her clothes were of a more modest fashion. If only she could accomplish her goal with the same alacrity. She smiled into the mirror. This evening proved promising.
“Turn around, please. Oh, I have never seen you look lovelier.”
Aubry swept into the bedchamber, eyes wide with appreciation, but Penelope shook her head dismissing her sister’s reaction. She dropped her gaze to the cream-colored silk of the modern-cut ball gown as her sister continued to bubble over.
“Is it not the most exquisite dress ever?”
Penny lifted her chin. “Yes, it does make me feel a little regal.”
Even if I am just a baron’s penniless daughter.
She forced the ugly thought aside. Perhaps she could pretend otherwise just for the night.
Aubry pulled the wide satin bow at her waist a fraction tighter and straightened the sweeping neckline with a little tug. She trifled until Penelope swatted her hands.
“Please stop fussing.” Laughter interrupted her admonishment. She was too pale and too mousy to ever be considered beautiful. Whenever she examined her facial features in the mirror she discovered the same result. Her lips were out of proportion and all attempts to conceal her troublesome freckles proved an exercise in futility. A grand beauty would never have been left at the altar. The sting of Simon’s jilt renewed the familiar emptiness within her heart. She tamped down the miserable remembrance despite the wave of mortification that settled in her stomach. “My maid did not act nearly as particular as you.”
Her sister continued as though she didn’t hear a word. “How did your maid weave those pearls into your hair?” Voicing her words with a great deal of awe, Aubry circled her with slow steps.
“You are acting like a ninny.” Penelope checked her hair arrangement in the mirror, pleased with the style and relieved with the distraction. Every curl had been captured, interwoven with tiny seed pearls and pinned into place, creating a cascade down her back, the effect nothing less than breathtaking. Lady Fenhurst mentioned the evening’s formal to be an affair experienced once a season with every member of the
ton
in attendance. The single statement snared Penelope’s attention and instilled hope tonight she would find Simon. What she would do afterwards was undetermined, but she would cross that bridge when necessary. Hopefully she would hold Phin’s hand to do so. She found he instilled a sense of security whenever he stood near.
The sudden remembrance of her kind rescuer caused a genuine smile to break free and Phin’s promise to make good on his debt instigated the reason. Her pulse thrummed in her veins. He intimated at dinner last night and again at breakfast this morning, he remembered the promise. Shameless of him, to cause her to imagine how wonderful it would be to kiss his lips. Every time he slid an enticing glance in her direction, he secretly reminded he intended to swoop in at any moment and claim what he wanted.
What she wanted
. The most sensual part of her ignited with anticipation and some other deep, secret feelings she could not explain.
“Why do you look like that? Are you unwell?’
Aubry’s concerned questions dispersed her fanciful daydreams. “Not at all. I’m considering this evening and what may be in store.” She squelched her misplaced smile. “Once I locate Simon, I can reclaim Mother’s cameo and we can make the blackguard pay for what he has done.” She finished her little speech in a vehement tone and reached for her beaded reticule with a flourish, causing a pair of ivory gloves to fall to the carpet. Aubry swooped to pick them up.
“These are beautiful. We didn’t purchase them when we shopped with Lady Fenhurst. Where did you get them?” Aubry caressed each rose pearl button before gently returning the gloves to the glass tabletop.
“Jenkins brought me a package earlier and the gloves were inside. They must have been terribly expensive, as I’ve never seen finer silk or more exquisite pearls.” A sigh chased her words. “They are too lovely to use. I would be afraid all evening I might mar their perfection. You should have them, Aubry, and save them for your come out.” Penelope hoped her sister perceived her decisive tone.
“But who sent them to you? What did the card say?” Aubry’s voice rose with the question, ignoring her sister’s suggestion.
“That’s the one troubling bit. The package contained no card and Jenkins could tell me nothing aside from taking the delivery from an errand boy this morning.” She glanced at the pair. They were incredibly beautiful, but a sister who invited thievery into their home and caused their father’s demise did not deserve lovely silk gloves. A daughter like that deserved little.
Aubry appeared captivated by the mystery of it all.
“It seems a little strange to receive a gift while in London. No one knows you’re here.”
“True, and the unknowing does detract from the joy. Who would think to send me something so personal? I wish I could thank the generosity. Regardless, you should have the gloves since you admire them so.” Penny rearranged a few wayward curls near her ear. She did want to look her best if the potential of the boon existed.
“No, they’re for you. But I do wonder…” Aubry hesitated before continuing. “Do you think they’re from Viscount Fenhurst?”
Aubry’s persistence proved admirable, the incredulous tone of her voice erasing the same theory Penelope had entertained. “It would be highly improper for him to purchase me such an intimate item. I hardly know the man.” She hoped her brisk dismissal sounded sincere.
“Oh posh, I think you should wear them this evening. What does it matter if you mar them, when you never owned them until a few hours ago? They won’t bring you happiness left behind in your bedchamber. Maybe they will bring you good luck.” Aubry glanced to the silk gloves before flicking her eyes to her sister.
“I highly doubt that.” She refrained from voicing the conclusion she hadn’t any luck. At least not until a short time ago.
“Well, whatever the outcome of this evening, enjoy yourself and dance a waltz for me. It feels as though I am gliding on air as I master the steps during my lessons.” Aubry spun across the room with her arms extended in proper frame formation.
“Do not appear so wistful. You will have your turn. Lady Fenhurst has been more than generous. I would hate for her to think we don’t appreciate every aspect of her thoughtfulness. I may be the one going off to a ball, but the only goal I have is to find Simon. We’ll wring his neck, empty his pockets and make him sorry he ever thought to break our bank.”
“Or your heart.”
Aubry stated the latter comment with such forlorn empathy Penelope reached for her sister’s hand. Comforting Aubry for the plight she’d brought on their family seemed more appropriate than worrying over her own embarrassment and injured feelings.
“You know if you were to discover Mother’s cameo in Simon’s possession, we would have all the proof we need. Father said it belonged to a unique collection and held great value.” Her sister made it sound so matter-of-fact. If only it remained so simple.
“I doubt Simon retained the cameo once he absconded with our savings.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Although if he attempted to sell it reputably, the piece would surely be questioned and he’s too shrewd to fall into that trap. I suspect he used more circuitous means.” Penelope’s spirits plummeted with the realization. Aubry was too young to retain memories of time shared with their mother, but not she. The cameo was the only keepsake left from their mother and Penelope wanted desperately to recover it. Frustration, distress, and anger peppered her words. “He’s a wretched lout.”
A sharp knock at the door mingled with the vehement announcement. Taking a breath, she rushed to open the panel. Phineas stood on the other side, his amber eyes glittering in the candlelit hallway, the complete antithesis of the man she’d just described.
“Wretched lout. I pray you do not greet every gentleman at the door in the same manner.” Phin’s expression turned quizzical. “On the other hand I should reconsider, as long as it is not I you’re greeting.”
Penelope’s heart turned over and all earlier disparaging emotions evaporated. She offered him a bright smile and opened the door wider so he could acknowledge Aubry and remain in the hallway as was proper.
“Hello there, Miss Aubry.”
Her sister giggled with the kind welcome.
“I regret we will not share your company and remain in house with you tonight. Maman tells me you’re to study history. Such a fascinating subject. You’ll be amongst captivating people with legendary stories to tell, unlike Penelope and I, malingering at the brink of boredom during a tedious engagement.”
Penelope could not pull her eyes away. How inordinately kind of him to make the social event sound like work and Aubry’s lessons seem as play.
“Thank you, my lord. I should be downstairs in the library readying for my lessons. Please excuse me.” Like a starling Aubry flew from the room, through the adjoining hall and out of sight.
Penelope’s eyes remained fixed on Phineas, perfectly framed in the doorway. He was dressed in very fine eveningwear, a coffee-colored waistcoat and tails made of kerseymere with a sleek elegant finish, a laced white cravat folded against a cream linen shirt, and high-waist velvet breeches. The brushed gold buttons of his coat glinted in the candlelight mirroring the twinkle in his eyes, while the shiny brown leather of his Hessians marked him as refined and far from a dandy. He looked in companion dress to her ensemble and she noticed how well they went together, not only in eveningwear or in coloring, but in matched partnership as man and woman. When he moved forward an inch, she caught the lightest scent of his intriguing cologne and then he spoke and her heart stopped beating altogether.
“You are breathtaking. I will have to protect you fiercely this evening or every gentleman will be fighting for the opportunity to dance with you and offer refreshments.”
The blithe comment teased, but something in his expression made the words more meaningful; as if he merely spoke of dances and champagne, but staked a claim on something else entirely.
“Thank you, my lord. It is kind of you to notice.” Did her voice sound breathy? The room did feel overly warm.
“Phineas.” His insistent objection brought her eyes to his. “You promised to use my Christian name.”
He paused, for a reason she could not explain.
“I like the way it sounds when you say it.” His voice dropped low, seductive.
“Yes, thank you, Phineas.” Saying his name intimated a closeness, so much more than an innocuous friendship. An unidentifiable emotion shimmered over her skin and she became all at once self-conscious. Was he about to claim their kiss? Here? In her bedchamber? The intriguing possibility caused her heartbeat to awaken in every part of her body, the desire to know twisting her inside out.
“Yes, well then, would you allow me the honor of a dance? I am certain your card will fill rapidly. My mother does have a way with the modiste and you promised me a boon.” He smiled at her again, a dazzling flash of white.
A dance? Wouldn’t he prefer a kiss? The drumming of her heartbeat repeated the litany of her wish…yes, yes, yes.
When the right corner of his mouth turned up in a questioning half smile, her heart melted. Swift reprimands went ignored. She’d never acted like a simpering schoolgirl with Simon. This weakness to succumb to emotion whenever Phineas glanced in her direction would lead to the core of all her problems. Before she could think to engage her affections, she needed to solve the problem at hand. She changed the subject briskly.
“I am confident tonight I will find the gentleman I seek.”
His expression faltered before he buoyed it in place, the warmth gone from his eyes. Confused by his silence, she took Phin’s arm to move downstairs and meet the carriage.
Damnation, the man she sought was never far from her thoughts. There he stood, offering her compliments and requesting a dance, and Penny remained fixated on the damnable man who didn’t have the decency to know where he’d left his sweetheart. It all sounded one-sided. What fool would not welcome her affection? He needed to solve the puzzle before he punched a hole through the wall.
Stealing a glance to where she waited with Maman, he noted how breathtakingly beautiful Penelope appeared. Elegant and regal, as rare and exquisite as a treasured jewel. His mother certainly knew her way around a modiste shop if she’d selected and fitted Penelope’s gown with perfection in only a few days.
Thank God for Maman.
Inside the coach, he recited a prayer of a different kind. Seated across from Penelope, with his mother to the left, his knees grazed Penny’s with every turn of the carriage wheels. The toe of his boot touched the edge of her slipper. He repositioned as his body reacted to the silken brush of her gown against his trousers. Several layers of cloth separated their skin yet whenever it happened, he grew harder. By damn, he needed to get it under control before they danced.