The fact that Harry found her the most fascinating and beautiful lady he had ever laid eyes upon? Well, that was entirely beside the point and did not signify in the least. Or so he wanted to believe.
Maybe he wasn’t old after all. Especially not if there was a beautiful and mysterious woman lurking about. One who just happened to make his blood pound in his veins as no other woman ever had.
Standing next to Lady Darby, Penny was beside herself and wished to bite at her nails. Thankfully she was wearing gloves to prevent such a thing. But at home? Her nails would have been bitten to the quick long ago. Then again, if she was still at home, none of this would be happening. Not to mention that, if she had been back in Cumbria, she likely would still be in that wretchedly restrictive boarding school, so there was that to consider as well.
Still, that boarding school, however oppressive, might have been the preferable option just then.
This evening was all going terribly wrong and now, Lady Darby had latched on to Penny’s arm like a barnacle. How was she to find the Duke of Fullbridge in this crush if the woman clinging tightly to her arm kept introducing her only to Society matrons? Penny had overheard at a musicale just last night that the duke would be here at Lady Covington’s this evening. Now, however, a rumor she had overheard in the ladies retiring room a few moments ago suggested that he had been delayed in the country at his impromptu house party for a few more days.
Something about his sister, one of her old paramours, a missing heiress, and a disreputable rogue turned spy. The conversation had been so convoluted that Penny hadn’t been able to follow it, but she had heard enough to know that it might be several more days – possibly even a week or more – until Lord Fullbridge returned to London. If he returned at all.
Meaning the rumor of his presence here tonight was wrong.
And that the rumor he might not return to London at all was quite possibly right.
Oh, the duke must return! If he didn’t, Penny’s fate was sealed.
He uncle would banish her to India – or worse, America – if she didn’t succeed. Penny needed to meet the man. She had to meet him! There was no other option and no other gentleman would suffice. She needed to take action! Now! She simply could not stand here all night and be introduced to all manner of proper ladies who would likely faint dead away if they knew why Penny was really in London.
Then again, perhaps this woman standing so regally before Penny wouldn’t, at least not if she knew Penny’s reasons.
It also might not hurt to have this woman as an ally. The elegant lady now chatting easily with Lady Darby was the Duchess of Radcliffe and she was hardly known as the meek and retiring sort, what with those scars on her face that somehow only made her more beautiful rather than less. Lady Radcliffe was also the Bloody Duke’s sister, and the Bloody Duke knew everyone who was anyone, at least in one way or another. Such a connection might help Penny’s cause rather than hurt it – even if Lady Radcliffe had been pushing Penny to waltz with Lord Pike not more than five minutes ago.
Just then, the duchess laughed and Penny had to swallow a wistful sigh, all thoughts regarding Lord Fullbridge momentarily. The woman was truly beautiful, no matter that her face was no longer perfect. She was also poised and composed, elegantly attired without being ostentatious, and she belonged here in this ballroom. From what Penny knew, Lady Radcliffe had a husband who adored her, two lovely children at home, and, according to Penny’s rather thorough research via old issues of The Town Tattler, a vast circle of friends that she could always count upon for support.
In short, Lady Radcliffe was everything Penny wished to be, and everything Penny never would be, at least not once her uncle’s plan came to completion.
Not that she had ever truly had a prayer of being anything at all like Lady Radcliffe, but it was still nice to dream. No, Penny was alive, she was in relatively good health, and if all went to plan, she would remain that way until she was old and gray. Even if she lived out the rest of her days far away from here.
Once more, Penny had to remind herself that her lot in life had been cast long ago. Now she was only a means to an end and, if she succeeded in her task, she could live the rest of her life in peace, perhaps even serving as a governess somewhere that her forthcoming infamy would not reach – if such a place even existed.
She wouldn’t have to return to that wretched boarding school or her uncle’s home. That was her ultimate goal, even though deep in her heart she wished for so much more. Still, Penny would never truly belong here in this ballroom and amongst these glittering, glamorous people. That wasn’t her path. This was not her world. It was best she if remembered that.
This life was not for her. Not forever, anyway. The fancy gowns and sparkling jewels were only temporary. She could not forget that either.
Doing so was difficult, however, especially when the orchestra was playing a waltz and couples dressed in the finest silks, satins, and wools spun like brightly colored children’s tops across the dance floor, dipping and twirling in time with the music. When the candlelight caught the sparkle from the gems at ladies’ throats and the sounds of gentlemen’s laughter mixed with birdsong carried on the spring night air, it was easy to get lost in the fantasy of what her life could be like.
If only she were free to choose.
But Penny wasn’t free and she hadn’t been since her parents had passed away.
Instead, she now lived only to serve her uncle and his twisted plans of revenge. She was his instrument and she had no will of her own. Or at least that was what he told her. At present, she wasn’t inclined to disagree with him.
Disobedience brought punishment and in various and wide-ranging forms, each crueler than the last. Penny had learned that lesson the hard way. After her last beating at her uncle’s hands, she no longer rebelled but simply did as she was told. It was easier that way.
But she still wished things could be different. Especially when the whole of London was spread out before her like a fantasy world, tempting her in a way that she had never imagined it might.
Movement to her left now caught Penny’s eye and she quickly became aware of a gentleman quickly approaching the small cluster of women where she stood. He had the look of a dangerous rake and immediately, her senses went on alert. Unwed gentlemen that were not the Duke of Fullbridge were dangerous. Men like that wanted things, things she could not give them. Not even if she wanted to.
And with this man? She might want to. Oh, yes. She very much might want to.
In a word, Penny was captivated by this man striding toward her. And entranced. And inflamed. All in the space of one short breath. If it had even taken that long.
If Penny could have described her perfect gentleman, her white knight in shining armor who would ride in and sweep her off her feet and carry her to safety? He would look exactly like the man approaching them, his eyes steadily fixed upon her the entire way – as if she was the only woman he could see.
He was tall. Much taller than any man she knew, including her uncle, and Penny estimated that he might measure around six feet and five inches, if she had to guess, or perhaps an inch taller. His sandy blonde hair was close-cropped and not at all fashionable, and yet it gave him an air of both mystery and danger that she found strangely attractive.
The mystery man was also big and muscular, but he moved with a grace and confidence that seemed to come easy to him, as if he had been born to power. He also seemed utterly at home in this high society crowd, his vivid blue eyes dancing with delight and warmth as he looked at Lady Radcliffe now.
But he wasn’t of the Quality. He was among them but not truly one of them. Penny couldn’t say how she knew that for certain but she just did. The same, but not. Usually, that meant danger and once more, Penny went on the alert.
“Your grace. It has been far too long.” The stranger offered Lady Radcliffe a low and almost exaggerated bow as he bent and kissed her hand.
“Harry.” The duchess was almost grinnin
g now as she smacked him lightly on the wrist with her fan. “I saw you only last evening.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her, suddenly all charm and sweetness. “That was still far too long, my dear.”
For a moment, Penny thought his overt flirting might offend Lady Radcliffe, but instead, the duchess burst into peals of laughter, causing a fair number of people to stop whatever they were doing and stare. “And you, Harry, have been associating with my brother for far too long! Rogues! The lot of you!”
The man inclined his head, his eyes still dancing with delight. He liked this woman. He truly did. Suddenly, Penny had the most ridiculous urge to see him look at her that way.
That was not good. Not good at all.
“You should talk, your grace. You married the biggest rogue of them all.” The man paused, as if deep in thought. “Well, almost the biggest.”
“That I did.” A dreamy smile passed over Lady Radcliffe’s lips and Penny had no doubt that the woman was still very much in love with her husband.
Penny did her best to tamp down another flare of jealousy. Such things were not for her. That sort of future was not for her. She knew better than to even wish for something so ridiculous!
“And who might your enchanting companions be?” the man seemingly named Harry asked, yanking Penny back to the present once more.
The duchess laughed again, lighter this time but just as cheerful. “Come now, Harry. You remember Lady Darby, don’t you?”
“Lady Darby? Is that truly you? I swear you haven’t changed a bit! And here I thought you might be your daughter! Or grand-daughter, surely!” Harry smiled again, and for a moment, Penny wondered if he was sincere, since the compliment was so outrageous. Then she saw the merry twinkle in his eyes and decided that he was. The man was an incorrigible flirt, but he meant no harm. He really did like these women and enjoyed flirting with them.
“Oh, you. Go on with your silly talk.” Lady Darby blushed furiously, even though she was clearly pleased by his words. “You know very well I don’t have a daughter, you rogue. Only three sons and they give me more gray hairs than I deserve! Thank you for the compliment, though. It does an old woman good to have a handsome young man flirt with her.”
Penny would agree with the handsome part but she wasn’t certain about the young part. Penny herself was four and twenty, and this man looked to be at least ten years her senior, if not twelve or more. Then again, in comparison to Lady Darby who was in her seventh decade, this man probably was young.
Then, Lady Radcliffe gestured toward Penny, and Penny felt as if her feet had turned to stone when the man in question now looked at her with those mesmerizing eyes that she could now see were a bright, vivid blue. Looked at her and knew. The teasing light was gone from his eyes when his gaze met hers. Instead, there was a dark, probing look, as if he meant to pry all of her secrets from her. And if he tried? Lord help her, but she might allow him to try. Especially if he kissed her – which was all she could think about just then. Even though that was highly inappropriate. Not to mention highly improbable.
“Lady Penny, may I present Mr. Harry Greer of Bow Street. He is a dear friend of mine as well as a famous and successful Runner.” Lady Radcliffe cast the man a small smile as she slid her index finger down the length of one of her facial scars that wound beneath her chin, which Penny found a bit odd but promptly forgot about. She had more important things on her mind – such as the man in front of her. “And Harry, I would like you to meet Lady Penelope Marshwood. She is the daughter of the late Earl of Telford and now the ward of her uncle, Lord Charles Marshwood, the current earl. She is in London for the Season, her first in many years. She spent quite a bit of time in Cumbria as of late, from what I understand.”
Penny should have been upset that Lady Radcliffe had mentioned Cumbria and her uncle as possible clues to her true purpose here in London, but she wasn’t. In fact, she had barely heard that part of the introduction at all. All she could hear was this man’s name rushing in her ears. Harry Greer. The Harry Greer! Oh, Lord! She was done for! No wonder he had been looking at her so strangely!
“Miss Marshwood. I am delighted to meet you.” Mr. Greer took her hand and bowed over it as was proper, but just then he wasn’t looking at her very properly. If anything, he was looking at her as if he wished to devour her in one bite. Which might not be a bad thing, for it would save her from her uncle’s wrath when she failed in her task.
Or that might have simply been her overactive imagination. At this point, she could no longer tell.
“Mr. Greer.” Penny’s tongue felt thick in her mouth and she had trouble forming even the simplest of words. “I am delighted as well.”
Except she wasn’t delighted. Not at all. Because this man was famous. Or infamous, according to her uncle. He was the most famous, respected, and successful Bow Street Runner still alive and had been at his craft for nearly twenty years or more. More than that, he was notoriously relentless in his quest for the truth and had assisted many people at the highest level of the aristocracy – including Prinny himself. And then there was that whole business with the Bloody Duke… And how could one forget the Devil Duke…
And, well, there were quite a lot of dukes and earls and other members of the nobility who owed this man favors. A great many of them, in fact. Possibly even Lord Fullbridge himself.
Mr. Greer was also rumored to be the bastard son of Viscount Westerly, a man who was a good friend of her uncle’s. If Harry Greer should show so much as a sniff of interest in her, word would likely be sent straight back to her uncle and then where would she be? Beaten again, most likely. If not locked away in that so-called finishing school for the rest of her life.
If not any of that, then Penny would probably be cast out on the streets or forced to work in a brothel or sent to America or…or…or… Well, there was no telling what her uncle might do to her if she failed! If she allowed Harry Greer to get close enough to her to uncover her plans.
No, this was the last man on the entire planet that Penny was delighted to meet! Not if she wanted to keep her life and her sanity.
No matter how handsome he was or how charming he seemed. And especially no matter how much she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. And maybe even do…more.
What on earth was wrong with her?
She shouldn’t be thinking that, not any of it! Not even the good parts. So instead, Penny smiled and prayed that the esteemed Mr. Greer would not notice anything was amiss with her.
Except the feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach as he regarded her with those magnetic blue eyes told her without words that he likely already knew. If not everything, then enough to be suspicious. And that he was storing that information away for later. Probably to be used when she was the most vulnerable. Just as her uncle would have.
Just then, Penny couldn’t decide, between the two men, who was the more dangerous to her health and well-being. Though if she was a betting woman, she probably would have placed her money on Harry Greer.
Chapter Two
“Do I hear another waltz? Yes, I believe I do! Oh, that Jane! She does so like to flout convention, and I adore her all the more for it.”
Harry saw the unbridled mirth mixed with a touch of suspicion glimmering in Julia’s eyes as she looked at him, the first strains of music beginning to waft across the ballroom. She was just like her brother – far too interfering and nosy for her own good. Not to mention far too suspicious. And, of course, in turn, Harry adored her all the more for it.
As the sister of the Bloody Duke, Julia was also no fool and she had likely been able to tell that something was not quite right with the delectable Lady Penny almost upon introduction, just as Harry had.
It hadn’t been lost on Harry that Julia, normally the consummate and perfect Society hostess, had deliberately bungled the introductions just a bit by referring to the newcomer as “Lady Penny” at first, rather than by her proper name, and had, at the same time, provided him wit
h enough information so that he could begin investigating the lady as soon as he liked. Harry had also watched Julia quietly signal Jane to request the orchestra play another waltz.
Or at least that was what Harry assumed the signal had been meant to convey, though it could have been something else, such as “create a distraction” or some such. He really didn’t know. Julia and her friends had a seemingly endless array of unspoken signals that anyone in the Home Office or on Bow Street would envy. And likely wish they had devised themselves.
Julia’s stroking of one of her scars hadn’t been an accident or a nervous tick. It was a signal of some sort, one developed after a lifetime of insecurity regarding her appearance, to alert her friends that she needed assistance. In this case, the playing of another waltz. Though how Jane had known that was what Julia was asking for was beyond Harry.
Then again, most things about women were often times beyond him, even when it came to the women he knew well.
It was also very clear that Julia expected Harry, with his notorious charm and penchant for flirting, to dazzle the newcomer into confessing all of her secrets immediately. He was good, of course, but he wasn’t quite that good, and Harry had the impression that the luscious Lady Penny would not be so easily swayed by his charm – especially if she had a secret or two that she wished to hide. That did not mean that he wouldn’t try to charm her into a full confession, however.
He also thought he might enjoy every moment of the attempt, as well.
“My lady, may I have the honor of this waltz if your dance card isn’t already full?” Harry knew very well this dance wasn’t even on the bloody card so it couldn’t possibly have been claimed. From the look of panic in Lady Penny’s eyes, she probably knew that as well and couldn’t think of a way to refuse that would not be seen as the height of rudeness.
A Lady for the Taking Page 3