“Well, then I am certain Lady Radcliffe can assist you, should you wish it.”
Harry was surprised when Lady Penny paused, a crowd of people still streaming around them as they stood near the refreshment table. “You referred to Lady Radcliffe as simply Julia earlier. Why?” It was an impertinent question and one she had no business asking, but Harry could tell Lady Penny was genuinely curious. “Forgive me. It is none of my business.”
Once more, Harry grinned. “Perhaps not, but I shall tell you anyway, especially as it seems as if Julia likes you and she does not take to everyone, especially strangers, straight off.”
Slowly, Harry pulled Lady Penny aside, so they were not being glared at as others attempted to make their way to the refreshments that Jane and her cook were so renowned for at the moment. Lady Penny went with him willingly. Given how often she had balked at being in his company so far, Harry would have thought she would have resisted more. It was another peculiarity to file away in his prodigious brain for later.
“I suppose it is because Julia and I have been friends for a very long time and she has simply been Julia to me far longer than she has been Lady Radcliffe. I have known her even longer than I have been a Runner, which is going on some twenty years now.” He paused and reached out to take Lady Penny’s hand in his, surprised again when she didn’t resist. “I have been friends with her brother, Lord Candlewood, since childhood as well and there are times when we forget that we are no longer back at Seldon Park, their childhood home, which was mine as well for a time. Our friendship is a long and complex story, but suffice it to say that when not many people wished to be Julia’s friend because they considered her a monstrosity, I was always her friend. Her scars, which seem so horrific to some, were always merely a part of her, at least as far as I was concerned. They did not define her. They simply were.”
“But Lady Radcliffe is beautiful!” Harry had the impression that Lady Penny’s outburst shocked her nearly as much as it shocked him.
“She is,” Harry agreed quickly, “but not everyone has always thought so and even now, she is still somewhat guarded around people she doesn’t know. But with me? To her, I am just Harry and have been since she was old enough to walk. Just as she is simply Julia to me. Our friendship is a bond forged a lifetime ago and, thankfully, neither she nor her husband stands on ceremony with me. Especially as I am not of their social class. But I am as tangled up in their lives and the lives of our mutual friends as they are in mine. It is simply the way we are, even though most of Society cannot understand our bonds.”
Harry could see a dozen questions or more burning in Lady Penny’s eyes. That was good, mostly because he was just as curious about her. However, tonight was not the time to press for more than she would be willing to divulge and scare her away. Tonight was the time to begin discovering this woman’s secrets, little by little. He had time to spare in that regard because at present, he had nothing better to do, what with the criminals of London being strangely quiet as of late. And because the Bloody Duke was otherwise occupied with God-only-knew-what.
“It must be nice to have that sort of bond with another.” There was an unmistakable wistfulness in Lady Penny’s voice.
“It is,” Harry confessed. “Without my friends, eclectic as we are, I would not know what I was about. I would also be extremely lonely.”
“I understand.” The words slipped out likely before Lady Penny knew she was speaking them. Harry could tell simply by the horrified expression on her face. “I am sorry. That was rude. What I meant to say…”
Shocking himself a little, Harry raised a finger to Lady Penny’s lips, silencing her and enjoying the sensation of pushing her just a little bit more off balance. Not to mention touching her, even through his gloves. “It is fine, my lady. I know what you meant and I know what you would ask next. Or at least I think I do.”
“And what would I ask, kind sir, since we are both being bold?” The flirting tone was back in her voice again, but Harry had the impression she didn’t even know she was doing it. This part, at least, might not be an act.
“You would ask why I did not wed Julia if we were so close and you would be right to ask.” Actually, Harry knew that wasn’t what Lady Penny would have asked at all, but that question would allow him to go where he needed to in order to uncover a few more of this woman’s secrets so he simply pretended.
After all, Lady Penny was not the only one here capable of playing games.
“So why didn’t you?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Because we are friends and, I am afraid that is all I am ever meant to be to a woman. I am not a passionate man, Lady Penny, but I am a protective man. And men who lack passion do not make good husbands. Julia and I would not have suited. Just as I have not suited with any of the women I have met in my six and thirty years.” Deciding to be bold and take a small risk, he turned her face toward his with the tip of his finger. “I know what it is to be lonely, Lady Penny. I know what it is like to look for someone on the Marriage Mart, even when I know I have no hope because I am not like other gentlemen, either in social station or in temperament. But I know what it is to look and wish and hope and desire just the same.”
Lady Penny’s golden eyes were wide, so wide that Harry could see the flecks of an amber hue in their depths. He could see her fear, too, but fear of what or of whom he couldn’t say. But it was there, that fear a living and breathing thing that might well consume her if she wasn’t careful. He also saw need and hunger and some other emotion that he could not quite define, which bothered him greatly. But more than that, he saw loneliness.
This woman was lonely. Not merely alone. And she was suffering because of it.
She also wasn’t the mastermind of whatever game she was playing. She was a mere pawn. But there was a game of some sort going on and it was a dangerous one. Harry had not managed to survive twenty years on Bow Street without being able to put all of the clues together successfully and he had seen enough tonight to know that Penny was part of a larger mystery. A mystery that Julia seemed concerned enough about that she asked for his help, however inadvertently.
He needed to uncover what this woman was hiding, both for his friends’ safety and his own peace of mind. He couldn’t afford to let down his guard around this woman. Doing so would be dangerous. She was dangerous.
Not physically. That was laughable, of course. But in other ways. Ways Harry couldn’t define, mostly because he had never felt this sort of physical reaction to a woman before. He had never felt anything quite so intense or so powerful. So yes, this woman was dangerous. And he needed her gone from London sooner rather than later. Before he did something stupid – like forget that he was Harry Greer, a man of intelligence, and not some randy, useless lord who took advantage of women and thought with his cock rather than with his head.
Harry and Lady Penny stood there, their eyes locked on one another, neither one willing to break away from the other. He knew his reasons. He did not know hers. And in the end, she was the one who flinched first, mumbling something about her aunt slash cousin as she turned from him and fled back toward the safety Julia and her friends offered.
However, as Lady Penny departed, Harry had the distinct impression that she was not accustomed to backing down and would hate to be thought weak. The next time they met, she would not likely turn away from him. She would probably even challenge him, likely afraid he would come to think he could best her all of the time in this new game they played – even if she didn’t know they were playing it quite yet.
But Harry would never presume to think he could always win with her, nor would he ever think her weak. For he had seen a hidden strength when he looked into her eyes just now. A strength that she likely didn’t even know was there. Lady Penny Marshwood was no coward and she was not weak. She had survived hell. He could see it in her eyes.
No, learning her secrets would be a challenge, but then, Harry enjoyed a challenge. He always had.
Chapter Th
ree
The rented and nearly empty town home in Mayfair was quiet and still when Penny finally returned late that evening. She had known it would be and for once, she was thankful for its cavernous silence, her encounter with Harry Greer leaving her shaken to her very core.
She had been right. He knew.
He might not know everything about her uncle’s plan, not to mention her part in it, but Harry knew Penny wasn’t in London merely to secure a husband. Somehow, the blasted man had figured out with a single glance that she was here for another reason, and she had a terrible feeling that he wouldn’t let the matter rest until he uncovered all of her secrets. Every. Last. One.
Before she left Cumbria, Uncle Charles had gone to great lengths to warn Penny about Harry, but she hadn’t listened, though it hadn’t been intentional. Instead, all Penny had heard was the price she would pay for her failure ringing in her ears that fateful day several months ago. So when her uncle had been warning her about those in London who both could and would derail his plans for retribution against Lord Fullbridge, Penny had only listened with half an ear, the whip marks on her back still stinging so badly that fear of enduring such a beating again was all she could think about.
So now as she slowly trudged her way up the stairs and into her empty chambers, her stomach grumbling because she had been too nervous to eat at Lady Covington’s, Penny did her best to remember something – anything – about the infamous Bow Street Runner that she might be able to use against him. She had to remember at least one small tidbit. Otherwise, her body would once more pay the price for her failures.
And then her cousin would pay an even worse price.
Penny couldn’t allow that to happen. Not to sweet, innocent Josephine. Shy and unsophisticated, and previously extremely ill, nineteen-year-old Josie would never be able to bear up under Uncle Charles’ torture the way that Penny could. She would also be beyond horrified that her beloved father would even contemplate doing such a thing to his own daughter. But Josie loved her father to a fault and, in the end, would do what he commanded, even if it broke her in the process.
There was no doubt in Penny’s mind that if she failed, Josie would be the one forced to take Penny’s place in this mad scheme. Her uncle’s threat in that regard had not been an idle one. After all, neither Penny nor Josie held any place in Lord Charles Marshwood’s affections. The place in his heart where love of any kind had ever lived belonged to Elizabeth and only Elizabeth. There would never be room for anyone else.
That was why Penny had to remember everything she could about Harry Greer, anything and everything she might use as a weapon to put him off of her trail. Penny could survive her uncle. She had survived worse. Josie? She wouldn’t. She was far too fragile. It was as simple as that.
Halfway up the stairs, Penny paused and looked backward. The foyer far below was a mix of marble and tile. How easy it would be to simply fling herself down the stairs and end this madness, allowing the part-time, rented staff to find her body when they arrived in the morning.
But Penny couldn’t, and she wouldn’t do such a thing. She would never make anyone else live with the pain of knowing she took her own life. Not that there would be anyone to care, really, but on the off chance that someone, somewhere did? Someone like Josie? Well, Penny would not inflict that sort of pain on them. Especially not on her cousin.
Blowing out a breath, Penny turned back to the stairs and continued upward and then down the long, chilly corridor that led to her suite of rooms. They would be cold. Frigidly so. They always were. The staff here at Willfield House arrived in the early mornings to give the appearance that the house was fully staffed. They would remain during the day to receive visitors and keep up the appearance that Penny and her unseen, fictional cousin or aunt or whoever she was, were occupying the rental property as was befitting women of their station.
However, when the sun began to set, Janie, the lady’s maid employed to assist Penny, would help her temporary mistress into her evening clothes and then, just like the rest of the Earl of Willfield’s rented and borrowed staff, she would disappear into the night, going home to Cheapside or wherever it was that the maid lived when she wasn’t here before reappearing the next morning.
Penny had never thought to ask Janie where she went each night, mostly because asking meant becoming close to these people and that was something she couldn’t risk. Penny couldn’t take the chance that anyone here was spying on her and reporting back to her uncle.
If Penny were going to endure this hell, she would do so her way. And that meant taking her time and enjoying the all-too-brief taste of what her life should have been like while she had the chance. Because once she was forced to put her uncle’s plan into motion, Penny would never be able to return to this world again.
London would become a distant memory. As would balls and museums and the theater. Shopping and walks in Hyde Park and afternoon tea. All of the magical things that Penny was just now learning to savor and appreciate – not to mention all the places she had yet to go and the things she had not tried – would be gone, stripped from her life when she was banished forever to the outermost reaches of England. Or farther. She had not discounted the possibility that her uncle might put her on a ship and send her off somewhere far away, on her own forever.
Therefore, Penny was determined to enjoy the moments that she could take for her own, insisting to her uncle that his plan would be more believable if she played the role of an innocent miss on the hunt for a kind and loving husband. Her uncle had thought that a stupid plan until Viscount Westerly had agreed with Penny, saying that the ton would more easily believe the events in Penny’s plan than in her uncle’s. And in this case, revenge was all about what people believed rather than what was the truth.
So Penny had been allowed at least a small measure of freedom. She went mostly to the modiste’s shop or another clothier of some sort, but also managed to sneak in a trip to the British Museum on occasion. She also took in the odd musicale or spent a night at the theater, always keeping to the shadows of course, but still simply enjoying herself rather than constantly being on the hunt for Lod Fullbridge – a man who wasn’t even in London anyway and a man Penny would have avoided forever if she could have managed it.
Penny had her freedom. For now.
Still, if Uncle Charles had his way, Penny would soon be shedding her clothes on Lord Fullbridge’s front stoop, crying that she was carrying his child after he had seduced her, and all but begging him to wed her. That had largely been her uncle’s original plan anyway. Thankfully, someone, likely her uncle’s good friend Viscount Westerly again – the same man that might also be Harry father, unfortunately – had talked some sense into his old friend and convinced her uncle that a more cautious and measured approach such as the one Penny had suggested might be more useful.
Which was how Uncle Charles had come to hatch this particular version of his already harebrained scheme, one which required Penny to essentially prostitute herself to Lord Fullbridge under the guise of proving to him that she could be a good wife and eventually – but not too “eventually” of course – become his wife in truth. After which, she would take all of his money, his heir, and leave him destitute and embarrassed.
Her uncle hadn’t been very clear on how she was to accomplish all of that, particularly those last few parts, but then, he was not a man known for his forward and clear-headed thinking. Likely Uncle Charles didn’t even know how Penny was to accomplish the so-called “easy” parts of the task he had set before her, including her seduction of the duke. All her uncle knew was that he wanted revenge against Lord Phineas Trew, the Duke of Fullbridge, however it happened to come about, with some specifics thrown in as a general guide for Penny to follow. The rest? Well, that was all up to her.
All her uncle cared about was the end result, which wasn’t going to be pretty – for anyone involved.
More than just revenge, Uncle Charles wished for Lord Fullbridge’s complete and utter ru
in and, oh yes, embarrassment with a nice dollop of humiliation as well. That was key, of course. And not just any embarrassment, but rather an embarrassment that, according to Penny’s uncle, would haunt a good and moral man like Fullbridge for the rest of his life. Uncle Charles was confident that his scheme would utterly destroy a man who prided himself of taking care of people, women in particular, and treating them like queens. Especially a man like Phin Trew.
For Lord Fullbridge’s exemplary treatment of women was a very large part of his currently pristine and somewhat renowned reputation. A reputation her uncle wanted to be torn to shreds, and then run over by a carriage and four for good measure.
Charles Marshwood wanted the duke to be saddled with a whore of a wife – again, that part fell squarely on Penny – who would become with child by another man. Or at least pretend to be increasing with another man’s child. Another man whose arms she would flee into after being abused by her brute of a husband, the duke. The abuse would come from her uncle’s hands and not the duke’s, of course, but in the old earl’s mind, who administered the beating was of little consequence. So long as the gossip sheets believed that Penny had come by her injuries at Fullbridge’s hands, that was all Penny’s uncle truly cared about.
Penny had never met Lord Fullbridge but she knew that no matter how awful he might be – and she suspected he really wasn’t that awful and was simply possibly unpleasant – he in no way deserved the madness and embarrassment that her uncle had planned for him.
However, in the end, Penny would have no choice. One way or another, she would have to trap Lord Fullbridge into bedding her, wedding her, and then? Well then after that, the rest was too awful to contemplate. As was the possibility that she might not locate Lord Fullbridge at all this Season, especially if the gossip she had overheard tonight was true.
A Lady for the Taking Page 5