by Devon, Eva
The immaculately polished door opened again, and a woman came out with Royland. An absolutely beautiful woman with dark hair. She was considerably older than Penelope herself, but still probably one of the most beautiful women that Penelope had ever seen.
The Duke of Royland and the lady interchanged a few words, nothing apparently amorous, and then he was back out onto the alley. She, Mary, and the footman, like absurd fish in a barrel, kept themselves into shadow, hoping that he wouldn’t see them.
Miraculously, he didn’t.
Royland took long strides, his demeanor dark. He seemed much perplexed, thinking heavily on some subject or the other. He strode out of the alley and back onto Fleet Street.
“We’re not going to keep following him, are we?” Lady Mary asked, but she didn’t seem nearly as put out as one would have thought she’d be.
Penelope studied her new friend. Perhaps she shouldn’t, but she found that she couldn’t stop herself. She gave Lady Mary a determined smile.
“Oh, dear,” groaned Lady Mary. “You really are in for trouble.”
Penelope winced but asked, “And you don’t mind joining me?”
Lady Mary laughed. “Oh, I’ve already known a great deal of trouble, my dear. So, no. I don’t mind. Not a jot.”
Penelope nodded, having sensed such a thing to be true. “Right, then. Let us go.”
The footman, being a good footman, said absolutely nothing as they moved forward.
Now, the honey-haired young man did look a wee bit worried, but there was really little he could do as long as they weren’t behaving in a totally indecorous state.
He simply had to follow them.
So, as they wove around the many people crowding Fleet Street, keeping Royland in view, Penelope wondered what the devil he could be doing. To be fair, she also wondered what the devil she was doing.
What was the point in any of this?
Finally, after several minutes of pursuit, he turned into another building.
It was a tall building, narrow and old, probably as old as the time before the Great Fire. He darted into the place with a great deal of purpose, and then she found herself entering too. Lady Mary suppressed a laugh.
Penelope tried to ignore it, but the Duke of Royland was striding through the busy foyer and heading for the stairs as they lingered in the doorway.
It was a news sheet office.
The realization hit her the moment she smelled the ink. There was the sound of the printing press, working away at present in some back room, and there were several gentlemen bustling about, discussing words that must be written for the day.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the foyer. Once she had made it halfway across, the Duke of Royland suddenly stopped on the stairs.
Penelope’s heart froze.
It would’ve leapt into her mouth if she weren’t so entirely startled. And then, much to her horror, he turned slowly and spotted her.
“Were you going to follow me all day?” he asked, more bemused than angry.
Relief flooded through her. She had not considered what she would do if he were furious. She’d simply followed, as though her legs had complete control of her actions.
She cleared her throat. “It is possible,” she said. “I’m not entirely certain what I was doing.”
“You, young woman, are an enormous headache.” He sighed, a long, laborious sound. “You’re causing a great deal of trouble. Trouble I haven’t time for.”
The words hit her with surprising force and were shockingly painful.
She swallowed. Was she really so little to him? An annoying chit of a girl?
In all her life, she’d never considered herself such a thing. It was galling that he might find her so.
“You haven’t time for me?” she queried, perhaps foolishly.
Hand on the walnut banister, he stared down at her for a long moment. Some great battle took place behind his eyes before he finally said tightly, “Come on. Come on, then, and Lady Mary, you too. Your footman can go find himself a cup of tea in our kitchen.”
Lady Mary just smiled, clearly amused by all this.
Penelope felt herself leap with a dangerous joy. It was a ridiculous thing, but there it was. She was thrilled that he hadn’t just cast her back out onto the street.
Perhaps they’d get to have a conversation again that allowed her to be herself. Perhaps. . . he’d remember that he desired her too.
He marched up the stairs, not waiting for them, which was a terribly ungentlemanly thing to do. She followed quickly, and as they climbed higher and turned down a hall, he went into an office.
There were several books lying about on a large mahogany desk. Printing type and sheaves of paper were strewn around the books in piles.
This was his office.
Her jaw all but dropped.
“You work!” she exclaimed.
His brows rose. “I work every day,” he said. “I’m a duke. Dukes work all of the time.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but that’s not entirely what I mean.” She gestured to the printed paper, scanning the words. “You work here?”
“I confess I do come and work here whenever I’m given the opportunity, which isn’t nearly often enough.” He smiled, but there was something guarded there. “You’ve figured out my secret, which very few people have done.”
Lady Mary grinned again. “She’s quite good at that kind of thing, you know.”
Penelope smiled. “It is hard to keep a secret from me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why that’s a good thing, Miss Finley. Secrets are meant to be secrets for a reason, and you shouldn’t go about trying to figure out what other people are doing. If I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”
She cleared her throat, sensing that they had struck a sensitive chord. “You mean you don’t wish me to know that you work in a newspaper office?”
“I own the newspaper office,” he corrected.
“Oh, I see. I do love to read news sheets,” she said honestly, once again skimming the pages atop his desk. Several words popped out at her, and she felt her excitement building.
He stared at her grimly. “Yes, we do have sections for ladies.”
“I don’t care for those.” She pursed her lips, much more interested in what she had just gleamed. “Does anyone really like to read about hair ribbons and wig powder?”
“You’d be surprised,” he replied.
“Well, I will confess to reading the gossip section,” she admitted.
“Those aren’t for ladies,” he said. “Everyone reads those.”
“Glad to hear it,” Lady Mary said.
“I couldn’t have imagined otherwise,” Penelope said, grinning. “But I thought you would have at least said that it was for ladies.”
“No,” he said. “I completely understand the nature of humans, male and female, and we all like to know things.”
“You see? That’s why I’m able to find out secrets,” Penelope said. “Because we all like to know things.”
As if to dismiss this line of discussion, he said abruptly. “Would you like a tour of the office?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said.
“Good.” He nodded. “I will call my—”
“No, no, no,” she protested. “I don’t wish someone else to give me a tour. I wish for you to give me a tour.”
“I have far too much to do, Miss Finley.”
Just as the duke was about to almost march herself and Lady Mary out of the office, she spotted another piece of paper on his desk.
It was a freshly printed article, and she spotted several lines which intrigued her.
“I say,” she declared, “are you going to publish that?”
He stopped, staring at her. Slowly, he looked down and spotted what she had seen.
“Yes,” he replied, even as his gaze narrowed ever so slightly.
“That’s very daring of you.”
His eyebrows lifted
. “And what do you know about what news sheet dares?”
“Well, I do read them every day,” she began, feeling a jumble of excitement building within her. “Several of them, point of fact, and I read a great many books on this matter. And from what I’ve gathered, a good many an Englishman won’t enjoy those words.”
“I’m not really interested in what my readers enjoy,” he said tightly. “I’m in the business of exposing things and putting out news.”
“You don’t care about profit?” she queried, astonished, and feeling ridiculously proud of him.
“Of course I care about some profits,” he said. “I would like this to be a sustainable business, but I’m not really interested in making profit at the point of deceiving people. No, I’m going to say things exactly how they are.”
“I admire you for it,” Penelope said. “It will be no easy thing.”
“No,” he agreed. “I’m surprised that you’re—”
“You’re surprised I’m aware of the subject?” she cut in. “Because I’m a lady?”
“No, not because you’re a lady,” he countered, “but because most aristocrats can’t give a fig about what’s happened to these people.”
“I’m not an aristocrat,” she reminded. “And by these people, you mean freed Africans?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s much larger than that, as you seem to know. Aristocrats don’t seem to care about the slave trade either. But at present, I’m particularly concerned with the free people in London being picked up and sold into or back into slavery.”
“How terrible,” she said. “I had no idea such a thing was occurring in London.”
“Then, you’ve been kept naive in this,” he said.
She exchanged glances with Lady Mary, who though an aristocrat, did not seem as surprised.
“Unfortunately, it’s true,” Penelope agreed. “I haven’t been exposed to what’s happening in the city. I can only know it exists if I read about it.”
“Good,” he said. “You shouldn’t be exposed to it. It’s damn dangerous, and I don’t want you trooping about the city, looking for such things.”
“You needn’t be concerned for my safety,” she assured. “I promise I am not generally given to foolhardy action.”
His brows arched, skeptical.
“Miss Finley,” he said, “I’m concerned for the safety of any person who has no idea about the dangers of London. It is not a safe place to be gadding about.”
“Well, as you see, today I wasn’t gadding,” she protested. “A footman accompanied us. And Lady Mary is more than capable of keeping me from getting into trouble.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Lady Mary with good cheer. “You’re a rather independent person.”
Penelope shot Lady Mary a glare. At present, Royland seemed to have a fairly low opinion of her, and Mary’s comment might not help.
“Lady Mary, I admire you for attempting to keep Miss Penelope out of trouble, but I have a strong feeling you’re absolutely correct.” A muscle tightened in his hard jaw. “She does seem to be determined to do whatever pleases her.”
“Whatever pleases me?” Penelope echoed. “That makes me sound terribly selfish.”
Royland merely stared at her as if confirming her statement.
“Forgive me if that is how I seem,” she said, her cheeks burning. He really did seem to wish to have nothing to do with her.
She cleared her throat. “But I will say I admire the work that you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” he said after a long pause with surprising sincerity. “It means a great deal to me.”
“As it should,” she replied, folding her gloved hands. “It’s the lives of many people at stake, is it not?”
“Yes,” he agreed firmly, “and their freedom, which is a damn scarce thing these days for many.”
Her heart swelled. Even if he wasn’t drawn to her the way she was to him, she was glad to know him.
Royland wasn’t just a beautiful man. He was a man with a heart, a man with intelligence, and a man with integrity, though he tried to pretend otherwise. He was no simple rake.
“Do you know,” she said, “I think that I should like to write about this.”
“Then, do,” he said as if completely ignoring her. “Now I have things to do, and off you go.”
Quickly, he scribbled a note. “Hand this to the boy outside. He’ll see someone shows you about.”
“But—” she began as she took the note.
Their fingertips met, and his eyes flared for a moment.
Yes. It was there.
A spark of desire.
Something wild.
But then it was gone as quickly as it had shown itself. He pulled his hand back quickly and returned to his desk.
“Alas,” he cut in, gesturing to the door. “I have a great deal of work regarding said subject to complete. I will see you at Drake’s wedding, no doubt.”
He bowed ever so slightly. “Lady Mary. A pleasure as always. So glad to have seen you.”
Lady Mary grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“I can trust to your discretion? The both of you?”
Penelope nodded, as did Mary.
It was terribly aggravating! She longed to stay, to ask more questions, to know more about his thoughts about the world, and he? He could not wait to be rid of her.
Really, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t force him to give her a tour of the offices or to share his thoughts with her.
So, she and Lady Mary did as instructed. Once they’d headed back into the hall, she gave the note to a young boy who looked like he knew how to run most of London, and certainly the building. He gave her a devilish wink as he went off to find whoever was to give them a tour.
It was tempting to cause more trouble, but she didn’t want to seem a petulant child, stomping her foot and insisting that the duke give her the tour.
Besides, if he really disliked her company so much, she wasn’t going to force him to be near her.
A handsome young man with fiery hair joined them, bowing.
Though her heart ached at the way the events had turned, she and Lady Mary went off into the fascinating world of the printing press.
As they strode down the busy hall, her mind turned to the subject of freedom. She hadn’t been boasting. She really did think she wished to try writing an essay about the injustice and horror of it.
She would as soon as she got home. She’d always had a great passion for writing in her journal about all the books she’d read. At night, she’d share what she’d put down with Persephone and her father.
Perhaps more serious writing would give her purpose in a world where she was expected to do little except for eat at dinner parties, dance at balls, and wear pretty hair ribbons.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind the Season and she quite enjoyed London, but the more she thought about it, the more she knew that what she liked was the bustle of the city. The humanity. The story unfolding every day. And she wanted more people to know the hidden tales.
People like her, tucked away in the country. Or people who were shielded in their pristine homes in private parks.
Such a thing was astonishing to her, but there it was. She and the Duke of Royland, whether he realized it or not, had far more in common than she or he had likely ever considered.
And somehow, that gave her hope.
Chapter 9
Rafe grabbed the newspaper article and read it again, searching the words to see what had so deeply inspired Miss Finley. Bloody hell, the woman was driving him wild.
What the devil was he going to do?
Where ever she popped up, she always said things which put terribly tempting thoughts into his head.
Yes, tempting thoughts of taking her into another room, mussing her perfectly coiffed hair with his hands, of taking her skirts and sliding them up her legs.
And worse still. . . devouring the thoughts of her mind. The mo
st tempting of all, teased him with images of them entwined before a fire discoursing philosophies regarding life whilst drinking wine into the wee hours of the morning.
She was not the usual type of woman that he allowed himself to contemplate. No, he was used to having affairs and being done. Of course, he always had affairs with intelligent women.
He couldn’t bear a fool, but she was different, entirely different.
She was simply more.
Miss Finley cared deeply about the affairs of the world. Not only did she care, she wished to do something.
She wished to write something about it?
How many wished to rush home and write about the injustices of the world so that they might be exposed?
He could almost count them on his fingers, and there she was, declaring just that in his office after barely reading the article that he had written.
Admiration for her swelled in his heart.
Yes, he had to avoid her now at all costs.
It was imperative that he do so for there was the dangerous fact that he liked her far too much.
Damnation, not only did he like her, he wanted her.
It was a bloody inconvenience. If he was alone with her, he didn’t know how he would stop himself from taking her mouth with his and causing the spark that was between them to fan into a blazing fire.
It was going to be bloody irritating, Drake’s wedding. There was little he could do about it except he was going to have to build a rather large barricade between himself and Penelope Finley.
Perhaps, he would do his best to annoy her and prove to her that he was quite an arrogant fellow. . . Except he wasn’t entirely sure she would believe him. He’d seen it in her eyes, that leap of mutual admiration.
He wanted to curse himself. The last thing he wished was her admiration.
Truly.
Frankly, he needed her to stay far away lest he give in to the friendship and temptation she clearly intended to offer him.
Friendship, what a word for it.
They had shared the most passionate kiss he had ever known, and now she was appealing to his mind in the sort of way that he never suspected could happen.
He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his desk.
That kiss.
It had been life changing, and now this meeting of the minds?