by Deb Marlowe
“Don’t.” He cleared his throat. “I fear we are out of balance. I shared a trifling reaction and you a deep-rooted experience.”
She tilted her head up at him. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t.”
“You’ll have to share something else, then,” she said with mock seriousness. “What is it that makes you uncomfortable?”
He did as she had and turned to face the window to make his confession. It felt easier to speak to the wind lashing through the trees than into her earnest face. And this way he did not have to see the rapid beat of her pulse at her throat and feel the matching rise of his own heart rate.
“Well?” she asked after a moment.
“Silence,” he answered her. “It is what unnerves me. The empty, ringing silence of a deserted house.” Or worse, the nervous, deadly quiet that reigns when all of the occupants are home. “That moment of mortifying silence at a dinner table when someone has said something unpleasant. Or the agonizing quiet that falls over two people who are distressed to find themselves alone together.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice and on a shaky breath. “I shall keep that in mind.”
“No.” He turned to her, moving sharply. Grasping her arm, he let his hand run along the narrowing sleeve of her damned, tempting pelisse. “Do not for a moment think that I meant you.” He held her wrist lightly. “That’s just it. It is different with you. We’ve had several enjoyable conversations and a couple of fervent arguments—”
“There were silences in there, too,” she said.
“Yes. And not one of them felt unpleasant, did they?” A flash of color rose in her face and brightened her eyes. He could not resist stepping closer. “That’s just it,” he repeated. “I’ve never once felt uncomfortable with you.”
“Nor have I, with you,” she whispered. “Not even when talking of badgers.”
He chuckled and she drifted closer still.
All the anxieties of the day, the worries about their mission, drifted away. It was a wonder—to feel so calm and so full of anticipation at the same time. Part of him wanted to take a step back, to examine the feeling and all of the excitement moving through his veins. It felt as if the lightning from the storm had invaded his body. The rest of him, though, very rightly told the scientist to shut up and kiss the girl.
His hand drifted upward. It smoothed over those teasing petals on her shoulder and traced a path along her elegant throat. He cupped her jaw and his finger came to rest just behind and beneath her ear, where her pulse pounded. He leaned in—
“Here ye are, sir!”
They jumped apart as the landlord eased the door open with his hip. He came in bearing a pitcher and a platter. “Your ale, and a plate of savories, sent by my wife.” He set everything down and looked up. “Oh! Shall I bring another plate?”
“No. Please don’t go to the trouble,” Miss Munroe told the man with a smile. “I just came for my notebook.” She took it up from where it was propped. “And now, I’m off to bed.” She moved away, pausing in the doorway. “Good night, sirs.”
Sterne nodded. Taking up his cup, he stared into it. “On second thought,” he said to the landlord. “Do you have something stronger?”
Chapter 5
“Why are you in such a hurry to get started this morning?” Hope’s reflection yawned at Penelope from the mirror on her vanity table, where the countess sat as her maid pinned the last few locks of hair into her fashionable coiffure.
Penelope set the tray she carried down on a small table and pulled a second chair closer. The countess’s rooms at Tensford House in London were soothing, all done up in greens, and cream and understated elegance.
“Because I’m starving, for one,” she said, seating herself and lifting the lid from a platter of bacon. “We skipped dinner in order to press on and arrive last night, if you’ll recall. And I did not wish to eat alone in the breakfast room on my first morning here. The servants were saying that Tensford is still abed.”
“He is, and let us keep our voices down so that we don’t wake him.” Her gaze rested fondly for a moment on the door that connected the earl’s suite. “And your other reason?” Hope came over to take the other seat. She poured them both a cup of chocolate and rolled her eyes in bliss at the first taste.
“You are the one who insists we must go to Lady Tresham herself, first,” Penelope reminded her.
“I do insist. I have known her a very long time. She is the sort who will not hesitate to steal a suitor out from under you, but neither will she deny or excuse her actions. She talks sense and she speaks the truth, especially with other women. If she is involved in this affair and we confront her, I’m convinced she will admit it.”
“Even if it might incriminate her?”
The countess laughed. “Ellie is one of the most intelligent and canny women I’ve ever known. If she is involved, there will be nothing to incriminate her and no way to prove it.”
“Well then, seeing as you know her so well, and having hosted her in your own home, you should know why we must visit her early. Even in the country, she was a very busy bee. She buzzed about from one social group to another, collecting gossip, knowledge and invitations like pollen, as she went. I doubt she is much different in Town.”
“And?”
“And she never starts all of her buzzing about before noon. It’s half past nine now. If we eat and call for the carriage, how long will it take us to reach her home?”
“Ah. We won’t get there before half past ten, or likely near eleven.”
“Exactly. She’ll be awake, but likely not ready for the day. She won’t escape us so easily.”
Hope spread butter over a warm roll. “What was I saying about clever and canny women?” She grinned at her. “Now, pass the bacon.”
A short time later, Penelope hustled out of the house and into the carriage. The countess followed at a more leisurely pace. She spoke to the footman who would be attending them and then climbed in after her friend, raising a brow as the door closed and they set out. “Here we are, then. Alone. Why don’t you tell me the third reason you were in such a hurry to leave this morning?”
Penelope merely gazed at her in innocence.
“You are trying to avoid Sterne, aren’t you?”
She sighed. “Am I so obvious?”
“You are both obviously prancing on eggshells about each other. I cannot decide if you are on your way to becoming enemies or lovers.”
“He cannot decide either,” she said bitterly.
The countess’s eyes lit up. “Oh! So, there is something there. I thought so.” She sat back. “Tell me all,” she commanded.
Penelope hesitated a moment, then she threw caution to the wind. She told her friend everything, right up to their encounter in the private parlor of the first night’s inn.
He’d been going to kiss her, hadn’t he?
He had.
She knew it. She’d felt it in her bones, in the warmth curling in her belly, in the tender expression on his face and the soft brush of his fingers on her skin.
He had definitely been about to kiss her.
“Wasn’t he about to kiss me?” she asked the countess. Hang deportment, she let her spine bend and threw herself back against the bench, staring at the ceiling past the brim of her bonnet. “I’m so confused.”
“It certainly sounds as if he meant to kiss you. Did you wish him to?”
“Yes. No?” Her hands lifted, then fell limply back to the seat. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm. You don’t know what you want from him.”
“I know what I don’t want,” she said, sitting up straight again. “I don’t want him to act like it never happened, which is exactly what he’s been doing!”
“Of course, you don’t,” Hope soothed. “It’s most disagreeable of him. But honestly, there is only so much you can expect of men in these matters.” Pursing her lips, she gave Penelope an extremely direct gaze. “Wha
t do you want from life, dear?”
She blinked, taken aback at such a question. What did she want? “I want someone who will look at me the way he does, when he comes upon me unexpectedly,” she whispered.
The countess’s expression softened. “He does rather light up when he sees you.”
“Yes, but then, after a few moments, it’s as if he talks himself out of that feeling, or perhaps he thinks better of it. The light always dims, and he moves away.” She gazed out of the carriage window. “I want someone who stays. Someone who wants to stay, alight and happy.” Closing her eyes again, she thought of her parents. “I have had quite enough, of not being enough.”
“Very good, Penelope,” Hope said with approval. “That was a very honest answer—and one you should keep in mind. But there are also other questions to consider.” She paused as the carriage slowed. “Ah, here we are.” She raised a brow. “We will talk more of this later.”
* * *
* * *
* * *
Sterne slipped his arms into his coat and let his man smooth the shoulders. He’d risen early to work on his latest article, but Derby had soon come in with a missive from his mother. A summons from his mother. He’d read it, tossed it aside, stood, and informed his valet/manservant that he was to have free rein this morning.
Derby was thrilled. The servant had done a fine job, too. Sterne eyed himself in the mirror critically. Shining boots, biscuit trousers, white linen and his favorite coat of deep, forest green. He quite looked the part of a man—
He paused and both men cocked their heads at the sound of booted feet pounding up the stairwell. A moment later, an insistent knocking started on the outer door of his apartments.
Derby tugged down his waistcoat and went to answer. The next thing, Sterne’s bedroom door flew open and a large form breezed in.
“Sterne!”
“Whiddon.” He grasped his friend’s arm and thumped him on the back.
“Stop dawdling about in front of your mirror, man. You were the one to embroil me in this search for your villain. Come on, then. We’ve work to do.”
“Work?”
“Yes. Appointments to keep. Skullduggery to root out—” He paused, suddenly, as a look of horror crossed his face. “Why, Sterne? Why are you dawdling about in front of the mirror?” His tone was one of deep suspicion. “That’s not like you. Why are you decked out like you are going to the bloody palace?”
“I—” Sterne stopped and shrugged. “Derby was sulking at being left behind. I merely turned him loose, to do with me as he would.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” He was growing irritable, now.
“Thank the heavens for small mercies, then. I was afraid they’d got to you, too.”
“Who?”
“Them! The women,” Whiddon said darkly. “Look, I know Tensford had to marry, but then Keswick got caught, too. Chester is in Wiltshire. He followed Lady Knelling to a house party.”
“He’s still chasing after her skirts?”
“Yes. I doubt he’ll stop until her husband finds out.” He threw himself on the bed and propped up against the headboard. “For a moment, I feared you’d gone over.”
“Over?”
“Yes. To the other side.” He raised a brow. “You’re sure this not about a woman?”
Sterne gave a bleak laugh. “You know my plans well enough.”
“Yes, yes. Travel far, study much, publish prodigiously. I daresay even Chester could recite it.”
“Yes, well, you’ll notice the lack of marry in there. I’m in no position to offer a girl any sort of settled life. Not yet.” He turned away from the mirror. “At any rate, can you see my father’s face if he heard I was going to marry?”
They both shuddered.
“I’m not sure whether it would be laughter or sneering, but it would be unending,” Sterne said quietly.
“Your mother’s might be,” Whiddon disagreed. “But your father? He’d start with disapproval, but soon enough, he’d be talking of your need to be a stable, steady influence and he’d sink his hooks in and start to reel you in. Six months and he’d have you running for a position as MP and after that he’d be dictating the speeches you were to give in the Commons.”
They both shuddered again.
“Fine, then. We’ve settled that.” Sterne sighed. And it was true. He’d decided to stop reliving every moment of that almost-kiss with Miss Munroe and just concentrate on finding Tensford’s damned fossil, so he could get on with the rest of his life. “Now, get off of my bed and let’s go.” He paused as they left the room. “Uh, just where are we going?”
“Tensford House.”
Derby stepped up and reminded him that it was his day off. Sterne gave him a few coins and sent him on his way. Locking the door, he followed Whiddon down to the street and they set off on foot.
“Honestly, when you first asked for my help, I thought this was going to be more exciting.”
“You’ve found no sign of Stillwater, then?”
His friend shook his head. “There’s no sign of him in the clubs or at any of the decent hotels. You’re sure he doesn’t own a house in Town?”
“Not that we’ve ever known.”
“Perhaps he’s staying with a friend, then.”
“Did you check in at the Geological Society?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I haven’t the first clue what you and Tensford are going on about when you talk deposits and layers and vertebrae and scales. I thought I’d let the two of you talk with those men—until I was at Whites and met a fellow who is one of the directors.”
“Yes?” Sterne waited.
“I tried. Honestly, I did. But I barely understood the fellow. Perhaps one sentence in ten! I did come to understand that he breakfasts at the club several days a week, so I managed to engage him. I told him I was close friends with Tensford.”
“If he’s at all interested in fossils, then that should have stirred his interest.”
“Oh, he is—and God’s teeth, yes—they are all keen to hear about his stolen specimen. I invited him to come to Tensford’s for breakfast instead and he could be the first to hear the story, from the horse’s mouth.”
“Good! And he accepted?”
“Instantly.”
“When is he coming?”
“Today.”
“Today? This morning?”
“Yes.”
“Have you informed Tensford?”
“No. Why do you think I’ve been hurrying you along? We really should beat the man, there.”
Sterne stood a moment and blinked at his friend. Shaking his head, he set off at a trot, watching the street for a sign of a hack.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Penelope took the footman’s hand and followed the countess out onto the pavement on Foster Lane. The house number showed stark and white against the brick of the terraced house. She shook out her skirts as the footman went to knock upon the door . . . and narrowed her gaze.
Before the next house over stood a gentleman. Actually, he was bent over, his hand wrapped around a girl’s arm. A maid’s arm, she saw. He was whispering in her ear and it was their attitude—and the hard look on the girl’s face—that caught her attention.
She reached out to nudge Hope. “Isn’t that—”
The man straightened, and she knew. “James!” she called. “James!”
He turned, clearly surprised to be addressed and let go of the girl.
It was him. Her cousin. Mr. James Lycett.
“Penelope?” He was all smiles at once—and his delight grew when he saw the countess. “And you, as well, my lady! Whatever are the two of you doing in Town?”
She hesitated, unwilling to tell him the truth. “I . . . it’s just a short visit,” she said lamely as he approached and bowed before them.
“I had some shopping to do,” Hope said
smoothly. “I thought it would be helpful for Miss Munroe to see the city, perhaps become accustomed to it, before her Season, next spring.”
“A good idea.” He frowned and looked at the row of modest houses. “But surely you will stay at Tensford House?” He suddenly looked startled. “Or will you open your father’s townhouse?” he asked Penelope.
“No. I am staying with the earl and countess. They are my chaperones.” She tilted her head. “Goodness, James, but you’ve lost a button from your coat.”
He flushed. “Yes. I’ve set my man to finding one to match, but apparently it is a difficult task. Still, I thought the coat fine enough to wear to these environs.” He gestured. “But what brings you two into Cheapside?”
“We are visiting a friend,” Hope answered.
Penelope craned her neck to peer past him, but the girl he’d been with had disappeared. “What are you doing in this neighborhood?”
“I am on the same mission,” he declared jovially. “A friend has been feeling unwell and I stopped in to cheer him.”
Penelope knew better. She’d never known her cousin to hold a thought for anyone beside himself. “Is it Lady Tresham? Is she the friend you are visiting?”
A peculiar look crossed his face. “Lady Tresham? No, indeed.” He looked back and forth between them. “Why ever would you ask such a thing?”
“It is she we are here to visit,” she said with a wave toward the house. “And I know you met her at Greystone. I thought perhaps you had continued the acquaintance.”
“Actually, I knew the lady before Greystone, which fact makes me doubtful that you would find her in such . . . circumstances, as these.” He looked up and down the modest street with a slight sneer of distaste.
“I know she resides here,” Hope told him. “I’ve taken tea with her here, myself. She invited me just after my betrothal was announced. That’s when we renewed our acquaintance.”
“Well, then, I must be wrong. Perhaps I shall tag along and bid my respects. I haven’t seen her since we all left Greystone, earlier this summer.”