Authors: Anabelle Bryant
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve apologized dozens of times for an inevitable accident. The same result would have happened in due time were Jonathan to exert himself in another fashion. The doctor confirmed it. At times, I wonder if he didn’t mean to end his pain by asking you to spar that day. I’ll never know.” She swallowed, her eyes seeking his in understanding. “My father-in-law would rather blame you than think his son flawed.” She stepped forward, her expression one of gratitude and serenity. “Your visits have done wonders for Benjamin and me. Not just your help with managing the house, but with your friendship and kindness. Inconveniencing you during the night to avoid gossip and my in-laws’ wrath went beyond the boundaries of your duty as a gentleman. Know that we appreciate it greatly and will remember you fondly.”
“It was my honor to assist you.” His voice couldn’t be more sincere.
“Be happy, Phineas. You deserve to be.”
Penelope smiled shyly and accepted the message Jenkins delivered to the morning room. Phineas was full of sweet surprises and sentimental expressions. For such a large man, who enjoyed earthy occupations and a solid boxing routine, romance owned a piece of Phin’s soul as much as his hearty appetite.
Returning to her bedchamber, she settled on the corner of the mattress and with delighted anticipation, opened the sealed envelope, her heart dancing a giddy beat; although as her eyes scanned the words, the message threatened to stop her heart altogether. Simon wanted to meet with her. Little other information was shared aside from location and time. She’d be every kind of fool to believe he could be trusted, but perhaps she could persuade him to return her mother’s cameo. The loss of that piece caused her heart to ache more than any financial hardship or social embarrassment.
She should leave Phineas a message or ask Aubry to intervene once he arrived home, but with all likelihood he would be angry she pursued the matter and might even come after her, ensuring Simon would be outraged that she hadn’t followed the note to the letter and arrived alone in secrecy. Hadn’t she burdened Phineas enough with her troubles?
A knock on the door interrupted her considerations as a maid brought in a breakfast tray. Penelope needed to make a decision and the comfort found in a cup of tea was just the answer, although she hadn’t much time. Simon’s note demanded she come at once.
Later that morning, Phineas and his friends gathered at Richmond Park to avoid alarming the ladies. He wanted to keep Penelope as far from the possibility of danger as he was able, and Isabelle and Lexi were included in his concern. The air was thick with tension more than mist, as the sun had risen hours before. Phin’s patience wore thin as each minute passed, his comrades aware conversation was the last thing he desired. The two dueling pistols resting on a blackthorn stump bore evidence he meant to get on with his end of the challenge. Still Ridley had yet to show and no apology had been forthcoming.
A sudden rustling of undergrowth from the copse of trees where they stood drew the attention of all four men, their senses acutely attuned in wait of Ridley’s approach, yet two squirrels playfully on the chase proved all that came to bear.
Phin let loose a string of curses and turned to his friends, all acknowledging the same conclusion and not at all happy with the result. If no pistol was to be fired on this morning, Phineas hoped Ridley had left England, beaten at his own game and never to be seen again, but one could never be sure. The Trumpington issue remained unsettled and rumors concerning Ridley’s poor behavior continued to circulate. They needed an efficient plan in case the cur’s disrespectful actions persisted.
“We know of Ridley’s licentious behavior and multiple identities.” Con stopped pacing and waited for his friends to engage the conversation. “I dug a little deeper and reclaimed a few favors. It has not been hard to discover Ridley’s trail of lies. The women he deceived in the past suffered in shame, unwilling to come forward or otherwise helpless to reclaim what he’d stolen.”
“That speaks well of Penelope’s courage in attempting to seek Ridley after his fallacious misdeeds. She is uncommonly brave.”
Phineas nodded his head in agreement of Devlin’s remark. “Penny is anything but faint-hearted. She has suffered greatly because of Ridley’s perfidious actions.” He punched his fist in blatant agitation. “I’ve already shown extraordinary patience.”
“I don’t know how any individual could behave so duplicitously and manage to sleep at night.” Harold expressed disgust and slashed his arm in a wide arc as if to be rid of Ridley’s wrongdoings.
“Regardless of his past, he’s stolen everything from Penny and I intend to hold him accountable even if I have to beat each penny out of him.” The statement was spoken with an odd note of pleasure.
“Fists will get you nowhere if we can’t first determine if he possesses enough money to repay the debt.” Devlin took up Con’s previous motion and paced before the dueling pistols. “In regards to Trump’s grey, there are dozens of stables where Ridley may have hidden the horse. That is, if he has it.” Devlin paused as if reconsidering what he’d said. “If Con’s information is correct, Ridley is running out of time faster than funds. I don’t doubt he’ll soon be running altogether, most especially now that you have bodily harm on your to-do list.”
Phineas turned toward his friends, his tone low and even. “That may be true, but I’m not satisfied with some decorous resolution. There must be something I can do on Penny’s behalf. And what of everything I’ve told you about the cameo? My trip to Rundell and Bridge yesterday confirmed my suspicions. The brooch is a Dilgano and worth a handsome fortune. Whether or not Ridley knew what he stole remains a moot point. Considering his cupidity in misleading females and bilking them of their savings, I suspect he’ll never be able to resist pursuit of the treasure.” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “And that puts Penelope in danger.”
She wept openly when retelling him of her past. The least he could do in the name of honor was beat Arlis Ridley to a bloody pulp. He didn’t care about the money. He would happily replace every shilling she’d lost, but for the simple fact she and her sister shared a multiple of desperate days because of the despicable individual’s ignominious deeds, retribution was in order.
“So then what is our plan?” Harry stepped closer, anxious to lend himself to the task.
“Perhaps we can appeal to his greed. Lure him into some type of trap. He had the Dilgano in hand and didn’t know what he’d possessed. Now lost, he has no method to regain it, unless we offer him one.” Devlin’s suggestion garnered no comment, but Phineas snapped to attention.
“I’d rather offer him my left hook.”
Harry interjected with a thread of rational thought. “If you seek to regain Penelope’s savings and heirloom jewelry, but Ridley has no money and has sold off all of the jewels, it seems little is left to be done.”
“Aside from making him miserable with a thorough beating.”
“I find this intense preoccupation with fisticuffs distracting.” Harold looked decidedly appalled. “What happened to your sense of honor?”
“I will never have behaved more honorably,” Phin persisted undeterred.
“This is a waste of time,” Con interrupted. “If you want to find the man and beat him senseless then go ahead. It’s not as if London will miss the bastard when he sinks into obscurity and departs under the cover of night.” He pivoted in Phin’s direction. “At least you’ll feel satisfaction at having defended Penelope’s honor. Otherwise if you prefer to pursue a more obtund resolution I can supply the names of several excellent Bow Street Runners. They can arrest and incarcerate Ridley, but no matter how discreetly they operate, Penelope will be questioned and if I know you at all, her involvement is the last thing you wish. It’s your choice. I’ll back you no matter what you decide but waiting here and debating is nothing more than futility.”
Devlin nodded, acknowledging the conversation had come to an end. “I agree. Your procrastination will lead you to naught but regret and the last thing you want is remorse as a bedfellow. Take it from someone who knows that well.”
They all fell silent, perhaps in wait of Phin’s decision.
“I need to confront Penelope to tell her about the cameo and danger it presents if Ridley pursues the matter.”
“Then do so at once.” Devlin punctuated his suggestion with a wave toward Abacus. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances. The opportunity to adjust Ridley’s appearance remains ever present.”
Approaching his horse with anxious strides, Phin reached into his pocket to confirm the cameo remained safe before mounting. Abacus welcomed the challenge and galloped at breakneck speed, accomplishing the greens of Richmond Park and maneuvering through the crowds shopping the busy streets. He arrived home in less than sixty minutes.
Tossing the reins, he leapt from the saddle determined to find Penelope at once. Everything balanced on their conversation and telling her he possessed the cameo and Ridley might seek to reclaim it, burned with intense urgency. He almost collided with Jenkins as he rushed through the front door.
“Where is Miss Penelope? I wish to speak with her straight away.”
“The lady is not in house. She left over an hour ago, anxious to be on her way.”
“Left? To go where? Not visiting the Bretton’s? I forgot about that little troll.” Phineas eyes swept the foyer from wall to wall as if understanding would dawn sooner than Jenkins could reply. A shadow of ill-ease took hold.
“She did not inform me. Shortly after you left, your packet arrived and I delivered it to her. She returned to her chambers—”
“My packet. What packet? I did not send a packet.”
Jenkins leaned closer, securing they spoke confidentially. “No one can hear us, my lord. You need not pretend for the lady’s behalf—”
“I’m not pretending.” He took the foyer steps two at a time, barking questions at the butler left behind in confusion. “From where did the delivery come? What did she say about it?” He nearly reached the top of the staircase and paused in hope of hearing an answer to shed relief on the fact he’d left Penelope alone and unprotected.
“I am sorry, my lord. I do not know.”
His strides ate up the carpet as he rushed into Penelope’s rooms, the lingering scent of vanilla in the air notching his anger higher, an insistent reminder of how precious the cost of losing her.
A quick survey of the room confirmed Jenkins’ statement. The bureau doors stood ajar. A cup of tea and half eaten slice of toast remained on a tray near the bed where a littering of objects lay strewn atop the coverlet. His fingers brushed through the ribbons, papers and baubles. A wooden trinket box had been unceremoniously emptied. There was a short pile of letters, a packet of promissory notes and a man’s pocket watch within the mix. A small velvet bag rested beside the letters with a miniature portrait of a woman who possessed Penelope’s profile. As he moved to the window to examine it, he dropped the black bag to the floorboards, but as he stooped to retrieve it, he found his lucky penny and slipped it into his pocket without pause.
Running his fingers through his hair in frustration, he reached for the pile of letters in hope it would provide a much needed clue. His anger built, as time wasted, no further along in determining Penny’s whereabouts. He opened the first envelope from the string-tied pile and read a few sentences before tossing the entire packet into the fire with a curse.
Ridley’s days were numbered.
He pushed aside a few articles to uncover a single piece of foolscap buried beneath the other items. The note was written in the same hand as the letters he’d just incinerated. His eyes scanned the message and the world stopped.
His heart lurched and he was all motion. Seething anger took hold as he crossed the room in two strides, bellowing for his horse and demanding co-operation.
“Jenkins, I need Abacus. Have the grooms removed his saddle?” He bounded down the steps to pause near the entryway lowboy and scribble a missive while he questioned the distressed butler.
“No, my lord, I will call for your horse at once.”
“And have this dispatched.” He thrust the folded foolscap toward the servant and took firm hold of the door.
“Phineas!” His mother’s voice rang through the foyer. “What is all this commotion?”
He could see Maman leaning over the top balustrade, her expression grave with concern.
“Nothing to worry about.” He strove to produce a steady tone, though his mind raced in a myriad of directions. “I will explain later.”
He spared not another minute, angry at the thought of wasted time. About to take his leave, a young boy appeared on the doorstep, out of breath as if he’d run a long distance.
“I have a message,” The lad pitched his arm forward, a white note clutched in his hand. “For Viscount Fenhurst.”
The urchin, reluctant to release the paper until Phin produced a shilling, flew from the steps as Phineas tore into the envelope. “Damnation, he means to bargain with me for Penny’s return. The devil take him before I see her hurt.” He issued orders, the butler dodging his heels, as he grabbed the reins of his horse. “Have my note sent to Wharncliffe with expedience. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Twisting her gloves in nervous contemplation, Penelope waited on the corner where the hired hackney left her. Her eyes scanned the road for Simon’s carriage. So far, everything proved true to his word. The hack showed at the Fenhurst townhouse as the note stated and when the driver reached the center of town, she had no choice but to follow his directions and disembark to wait for another conveyance. Had she made a terrible mistake by agreeing to meet Simon? Misgivings shivered down her spine.
When she’d received Simon’s note and saw the waiting hack outside the window, she’d acted without pause, overcome by the goal of recovering her mother’s cameo and recouping her father’s savings. She realized now she should have practiced more coherent reasoning and left word for Phineas. The urgency of Simon’s note and his insistence she come alone set her into motion, but no one knew her location and that realization instigated ill-ease.