by Abigail Agar
Making her way towards the less crowded nooks of the house, Penelope sought a crisp breeze. She rounded a corner to see a tall man enter. His dark hair caught her for a moment. For just that second, she thought it was Jules. Then he turned, and she saw he was a stranger.
Shaking her head at herself, Penelope carried on down the hall where she found a bench to sit for a moment. The Duke had sent her father a letter, which by itself meant nothing much. Yet, he had also seen fit to let her know his reasons for not attending the party.
The reasons might fill her with disappointment, but Penelope knew she should be grateful that he had thought to include her at all. Perhaps the man did hold some interest in her, or perhaps she was just not aware of how his particular brain worked. All she did know was that every time the front door opened, or a guest was announced, she kept waiting to see, or hear the Duke of Richmond.
This was not the showing that Penelope had promised her mother. She stood up and took a deep breath. She could never claim her place in this world if she let every setback get her out of sorts. Surely independent women had to deal with these sorts of things all the time.
She took a deep breath but found she only made it another few steps before Miss Lorraine called over to her. “Sweetie, there you are.”
Penelope stopped and waited on the woman to hurry over in her flowing skirts. “You look very pleased.”
“I wanted to introduce you to Captain Ralston,” Miss Lorraine said with a lift of her eyebrows and a sparkle in her eyes.
That was one introduction that Penelope had no intention of missing, and she beamed at the woman. “He came,” Penelope whispered in excitement.
“Well, of course, he did,” Miss Lorraine said with a little wink just for Penelope. She looped her arm through Penelope’s and led her back down the hallway.
When they approached a group of chairs that were arranged in a corner for quiet conversation, a tall man with braided hair and tri-corner hat stood up. His hair was a most lovely deep red that Penelope found quite fetching. Miss Lorraine smiled at the man. “This is Lady Penelope Withersfield, my charge. Well, she is not really my charge anymore. I hear tell she probably will be wed soon.”
The man’s sharp accent sounded oddly Irish, but with some other accent mingled in with it, probably from his years in far-flung ports. “Aye, I can see why. She’s a lovely lass, Lorraine.” The man shook his head and gave Penelope a smile. “I forget myself in the gentle company of women. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lass.”
Penelope had taken no offence to the man’s directness. She gave him a curtsy just as her mother had taught her, and she saw Miss Lorraine beam with pride at her much as if Penelope were her own daughter. “I have wanted to meet you for some time, Captain Ralston. Miss Lorraine has told me about you and your adventures.”
“Oy, I hoped she did nae tell ye much of them, or you’d think me a right rake,” the man said with obvious embarrassment.
Penelope giggled despite herself, and this seemed to please Captain Ralston all the more. Miss Lorraine hit him on the arm. She shook her head. “I told you that he can be a rogue sometimes,” Miss Lorraine said in conspiracy to Penelope even if the man could plainly hear her.
Despite her best efforts, Penelope found it impossible not to laugh at the couple’s antics. They were two of a kind, and Penelope was convinced by the time she bid them goodbye that Captain Ralston would have Miss Lorraine talked into travelling the seas with him before the end of the night. She thought that might be a lovely thing for her governess, even if she would miss her terribly.
Penelope was just turning the corner into the foyer when her mother’s voice called over to her, “Penelope, darling, come here a moment!”
Her mother stood next to a tall man, not quite as tall as the Duke, but tall enough to tower over Penelope at her petite height. The man stood taller than even her statuesque mother which her mother seemed pleased by. Lady Winchester waved her hand at Penelope and said to the man, “This is my daughter, Lady Penelope Withersfield.”
The man dipped his head to her and extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you already that I feel intrigued.”
“Oh?” Penelope asked curiously as she placed her fingers in the man’s hand. He bent over but stopped short of brushing his lips against her gloved fingertips.
Lady Winchester smiled at Penelope. “Penelope, this is Lord August Portland, the Earl of Portland.” Her mother added the last title with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. Penelope knew that her mother wanted her to make an especially good impression.
Penelope was struck by the name. Did she know this man from somewhere? His name sounded familiar to her. She gave him a bright smile. “How lovely to make your acquaintance, Lord Portland.”
“She is as mannered as she is beautiful,” Lord Portland said to Lady Winchester who smiled in her agreement.
Penelope felt decidedly like an object for sale as the Earl let her hand drop. She just stopped herself from wiping her hand off in offence at the way the man looked upon her. Perhaps making a good showing would be a bit more work than Penelope had anticipated.
Lady Winchester looked pleased, however, and Penelope decided she could make the best of it. Penelope enquired, “What is it that you do, Lord Portland?”
The man looked pleased that Penelope was interested and gave her a warm smile. “My main enterprise is in the shipping industry. I run a fleet of ships that cross the oceans to deliver goods. Are you interested in trade?”
“I have never really learned much about it,” Penelope admitted. “My lessons were more on the arts.”
Lord Portland gave her an encouraging smile. “I think that is a reasonable thing. Women are artistic creatures by nature, and I find that the more technical aspects tend to bore them very much.”
“That might very well be true,” Penelope said even if she did not particularly care for the sentiment. She had studied the sciences and found them very interesting, but she had no doubt that Lord Portland would not find that aspect of her very appealing, so she kept it to herself.
Lady Winchester suggested, “Perhaps we should get something to drink while we wait on the dances to begin?”
“That is an excellent idea.” Lord Portland boldly offered Penelope his arm, which caused her eyes to dart to her mother. Lady Winchester merely smiled, and Penelope accepted the arm the man offered.
They made their way through the crowd. Lord Portland seemed to know as many people as Lady Winchester did, and he certainly needed very few introductions. Penelope had to admit that the man was charming and even humorous in his observations of the people they passed. Still, there was something about him that just did not sit well with Penelope.
He got both Penelope and her mother a glass of the wonderfully sweet punch that the kitchen staff had made especially for the party. Penelope had always been fond of the punch that Cook made, and she was quite content to sip on the sweet concoction while Lord Portland and her mother discussed trade routes or some news.
Not that Lord Portland allowed Penelope to be left out. No, the man seemed determined to make sure that Penelope did not lag behind in the conversation. If she seemed confused, Lord Portland explained what they were discussing until Penelope could follow along with it well enough.
Though the man’s smile seemed open, and his eyes seemed to only hold flirtations, Penelope was too good at reading people to take the man at face value. There was something more behind the man’s words than what he was saying. It was not until Lady Winchester mentioned the Duke of Richmond in conjunction with one of the trade routes that Penelope remembered what it was her mind was screaming at her about.
Had not the Duke said something about Lord Portland being involved in his parents’ deaths? Penelope eyed the man carefully. Was this man a murderer? What about him had called to the Duke so that he had singled this man out?
***
While her mother and Lord Portland talked, Penelope bega
n to plot. She owed Jules nothing, perhaps, but she felt that she could not bear to let this opportunity pass her by. If only she could somehow let the man know that the quarry he had sought was right here. Yet, there was no way to do that.
She could, however, perhaps get the truth that so tormented the young Duke. If she could do that, then perhaps she could free him and herself as well from this horrible cycle that Jules seemed caught up in. Penelope sighed and interrupted her mother with a frown. “Forgive me, but I am feeling a bit faint. I think I shall go to the resting room for a moment.”
“Do you need assistance?” Lady Winchester said as she turned to find a servant.
Penelope waved off her mother’s question. “No, no,” Penelope said with a smile. “I just need a moment to catch my breath. I fear it might have been stolen by our guest and his way of making me laugh far too often.”
Lord Portland put his hand over his heart. “My heart would stop if I knew I had caused you pain.”
“I think you have nothing to fear in that case,” Penelope assured the man. She gave him a smile and cut her eyes ever so slightly towards the door to the next room. “I shall see you in a bit.”
Lord Portland dipped his head in a bow to her as Penelope gave her mother a smile. Once she was out of sight, Penelope took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. She wondered if the man had caught onto her intention, and if he did would he be brash enough to risk his reputation for meeting up with her away from her chaperone?
Penelope looked around to see if anyone was watching her before she slipped up the stairs which were just behind her. They were a back set of stairs that mostly only the servants used. It was a good way to get away from the crowds, and she hoped the man would catch on. As she waited just out of sight at the top of the stairs, she spotted Lord Portland exiting the doorway she had come out of a moment before.
His eyes seemed to go up and down the hall. Penelope made a movement with her hand that drew his eyes up to her. A smile spread over his face. Penelope gave him a smile in return before she turned and walked down the hallway towards one of the empty servant rooms.
Lord Portland’s footsteps behind her made Penelope look up. “Lord Portland, how nice to see you again,” Penelope said with an amused smile.
“Did I read your intention wrongly?” Lord Portland said as he came to within a few feet of Penelope.
She shook her head. “I just thought you might like to stop talking about trade for a bit. My mother is always on about my father needing to branch out. She thinks it would be good for his wealth.”
“Ah, so you wished to save me from her schemes?” Lord Portland’s face lit up in a grin as he rocked on his heels. His long coat accentuating his slender, tall frame. “What shall we talk of instead?”
Penelope shrugged and backed up to the door behind her which she opened with a coy smile. “I feel that we shall have no trouble with words.”
Lord Portland seemed pleased by her answer and followed her into the room. Penelope swiftly lit a candle. Lord Portland nodded at the candle. “Feel safer?”
“The light always shines on the truth,” Penelope bantered back. “I actually just do not fancy falling down and ripping my dress.”
Lord Portland accepted the excuse with a chuckle. “I hear you had a rather startling run-in with the Duke of Richmond.”
“Oh, is that all you heard about me?” Penelope asked with a laugh. Her face grew solemn, and she nodded. “Actually, it was rather altering.”
Lord Portland shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Did you really rush into a dark alley?”
“It was not my brightest moment,” Penelope admitted. She crossed her arms and enquired, “How did you hear about all that anyway?”
He chuckled. “I think most everyone has heard some version of your misadventure.” He frowned and added, “You really should be more careful, though. Rushing into situations like that could get you harmed.”
“Is that a threat?” Penelope asked with a smile.
Lord Portland laughed and clapped his hands. “I can see how you would get into situations such as that now that I have met you. You are quite headstrong. I would wager that you would go against an army if someone gave you poor odds and discouraged it.”
“You might be right,” Penelope said as she leaned back against the bedpost. “To tell you the truth, I have regretted that moment of rashness.”
Lord Portland raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”
“The Duke is a singular sort of man,” Penelope said with a frown. “I think he will not be happy until he ends up right back in that alley.”
If this information surprised Lord Portland, he did not indicate it with his face. He sighed and walked over to where Penelope stood. “Your mother did mention that you had some fascination with the Duke.”
Penelope knew from the moment the man said the words that they were lies, but she had no reason to call him out on them. She merely shrugged. “He is nice to look upon, but a dead man does a girl no favours.”
“You sound like the type of girl that does not mind getting her hands dirty just a bit,” Lord Portland said carefully.
Penelope lifted her shoulders. “It is more that he frightens me. He pulled me into a room and scared me so. I fear his mind is playing with him.”
“He hurt you?” Lord Portland looked absolutely astounded.
Penelope sighed. “More just scared me than anything. I fear he is not well.”
“I have thought the same,” Lord Portland admitted. He was close enough now that Penelope could smell the scent of leather that clung to him slightly, and the smoke from the cigar that the man favoured.
Penelope leaned her head to the side, more to get her nostrils further away, but the man did not have to know that. “He told me things about you. Things you ought to know.”
“Oh?” Lord Portland sounded distracted, and Penelope noticed then that he was looking not at her but down at the bodice of her dress.
Penelope shifted and watched how the man’s eyes followed her. “He said you were mixed up in his parents’ deaths. Said you murdered them.”
“Guilty men will rave,” Lord Portland mumbled.
Penelope pursed out her lips. She reached out and tapped one of the buttons on the man’s shirt. “So will sane ones. I just want to know the truth. The truth, I can work with.”
“The truth?” Lord Portland’s eyes snapped up to Penelope’s own blue eyes. Penelope eyed him steadily as if challenging him to tell her what he had done.
She licked her lips and whispered, “Everything in society is whispers and truths. That’s the only power there is. I can help you, and I think you know that.”
“And if I were to admit something?” Lord Portland ventured. “How do I know that you will not use it against me?”
Penelope shrugged. “You do not, but if we were wed, we could be stronger together. If your aim were really to be cruel to the man, then perhaps the cruellest thing of all would be to steal me away?”
“He is that enamoured with you, is he?” Lord Portland asked with a grin.
Penelope smiled. “There is only one way to find out.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Lord Portland said. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lady Withersfield. Leander did that all on his own.”
Penelope’s heart went cold. “Leander? The footman?”
Lord Portland nodded his head. “Yes, he told me about it later. He tried to blackmail me.”
Penelope frowned and shook her head. “I feel so odd. Excuse me,” Penelope said as she put her hand on the man’s shoulder as if to ask for room to get by. “Lord Portland, I must insist that you move. I came in here in good faith that you were not some rogue.”