A Lady for the Taking

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to parade herself in front of these people looking like some sort of desperate wanton, even though that was precisely what she was. She would rather have gone to the musicale and spent an evening of music and conversation with Lady Radcliffe and her friends.

  If Penny didn’t attend the theater, however, her uncle would eventually find out the truth. Perhaps not immediately, but in time and she still did not fully trust Lord Willfield’s staff. Any one of them could be spying on her and reporting back to her uncle, even Janie, much as Penny truly liked the maid and wanted to trust her. Or if not a member of Willfield’s staff, then perhaps someone who moved amongst polite Society that Penny didn’t even know could be the one spying on her.

  But someone was watching her. That couldn’t be denied.

  Because Penny had felt eyes watching her, more often than not. She had felt those eyes the other night at Lady Covington’s and again this morning in Madame LaVallier’s shop. Someone was watching her, and that someone was likely being paid to do so by her uncle. For him, revenge against Fullbridge was more important than whatever coin he spent achieving it.

  “Best we move along, my lady.” At Penny’s elbow, Miss Bridget gave her charge for the evening a gentle nudge. “The play will start soon and you won’t want to miss the beginning.” The older woman grinned. “Besides, this is the best time to crowd watch. It is the time to see and be seen. Everyone does it. I should think you might like to try it for yourself.”

  Crowd watch? See and be seen? Was Miss Bridget on her uncle’s payroll as well? Penny had no idea. Though she rather doubted it. The Gray Ladies did not seem the sort to employ spies, nor did the organization’s owners seem the sort to allow it. Penny had met Lord and Lady Berkshire earlier in the day and they had both seemed to be above reproach. Not to mention madly in love with each other.

  That did not mean they could not employ spies, of course. That only meant it was unlikely. However, Penny still wasn’t willing to take the chance. There was too much to lose.

  In fact, the only two people Penny was certain weren’t being paid a cent by her uncle were Lady Radcliffe and Harry Greer.

  Harry.

  The mere thought of him gave her pause. Where was he tonight? Was he working for Bow Street? Or was he with another lady? Was he paying her court? Charming her with that smile of his? Perhaps thinking about kissing her? Did he find this unknown woman beautiful, unlike Penny who was at best, plain and a bit bland?

  And why, oh why, did she even care?

  It shouldn’t matter where Harry was. He wasn’t for her. If her situation had been different, then perhaps. After all, she was more attracted to him than she had any right to be. And she wanted him. Even after only two meetings, Penny wanted Harry with a desperation she had not thought herself capable of feeling. A desperation that, in truth, scared her a bit, mostly because she could not explain it or rationalize it.

  So yes, Penny wanted Harry. She just couldn’t have him.

  Though all of that assumed he even thought about her at all – which he might, she supposed, given their conversation that morning. However, as long as she was under her Uncle Charles’ control, none of that mattered. Penny needed to do as her uncle commanded. Still, in the privacy of her heart, she could wish and she very much wished for a man like Harry, one who was honest and good. Kind and loyal. Passionate. And enchanting.

  Or maybe Harry was actually none of those things. Maybe he was no better than her uncle and she just wished he was those things because she found him so physically attractive.

  Still, he was not for her and Penny needed to remember that. Before she made a terrible mistake of some sort and brought her uncle’s wrath down upon her. Or upon Josie.

  “If that is what members of polite Society do, then I suppose I must as well.” Penny tried to look cheerful as she began to follow Miss Bridget up the grand staircase. “Especially as I suspect there are plenty of eligible gentlemen present.”

  As Penny had hoped, that comment elicited a laugh from the chaperone. “Ah, yes, miss. There are plenty of eligible gentlemen about. So you are on the Marriage Mart, then? Lady Berkshire didn’t say, though I suspect she didn’t know, what with your request coming from your household staff.”

  “I am,” Penny confirmed. She did not think her uncle could object to that bit of news leaking out. After all, wasn’t that her purpose here in London, after all? To find a husband? Even though it was supposed to be a very specific one?

  Miss Bridget nodded sagely, as if she had heard this story before. Which she likely had. “Then you have come to the right place, my lady. Balls and soirees are all well and good, but the theater? Well, here you can look your fill without anyone batting an eye or calling you out for improper behavior. Then, when you decide on a gentleman you fancy? Well, after that, it’s easy enough to find out where he will be next! Especially if you have a chaperone or a maid!”

  Such actions sounded more than a little unsavory to Penny, but she could hardly say that. While she doubted this woman was on her uncle’s payroll, it was her job to help unwed young ladies of the ton to secure husbands. As Penny had just announced that she was, indeed, on the Marriage Mart, it would not do to scoff at the woman’s advice.

  “Then lead on, Miss Bridget,” Penny insisted as cheerfully as possible, all while a feeling of dread knotted tight in her stomach. Oh, how she really did not want to do this! “The gentlemen await, do they not?”

  By the time Penny had been seated in Lord Willfield’s private box, however, she was already beginning to regret agreeing to this absurdity. With each step she took through the dimly-lit hallways, the sense of being watched had returned. Only this time, the watchers were rather obvious about their intentions. She was being watched and judged and likely being found inferior by just about everyone in attendance this evening. Which was hardly a surprise because she was inferior. She was four and twenty. A plain country miss. Hardly an elegant, sophisticated young debutante and also quite firmly on the shelf.

  Except that Harry didn’t seem to mind her age. Or that she wasn’t as sophisticated and worldly as the other young ladies of London.

  And there she went again, thinking about Harry Greer! She had to stop this insanity.

  Except that it was rather difficult when the gentleman at the center of her thoughts was seated just two boxes away and next to a man Penny quickly recognized as Lord Trenton Pike, who was heir to Viscount Marshfield and a distant cousin of Lord Fullbridge. The same gentleman Lady Radcliffe had insisted Penny waltz with the other evening. But nice as he had seemed during their brief encounter, Lord Pike still wasn’t the duke himself and that did Penny little good, drat it all.

  And, then, of course, there was the little matter of Harry seated right next to him.

  Which was just Penny’s luck. When things went wrong for her, they tended to go very wrong. And this? Well, this was bordering on disaster.

  Penny hadn’t even known that Lord Willfield owned a box this close to Fullbridge’s, but her uncle must have. Charles Marshwood left nothing to chance when it came to revenge against the duke, at least for the most part and save for the actual plan itself. That was why the theater tickets had arrived that morning. This was all part of her uncle’s plan, but that also meant he probably didn’t know the duke was still in the country.

  Her uncle also probably knew that Harry and Fullbridge were friends and they probably attended the theater together often. Was that why Uncle Charles had taken great pains to warn her about Harry? Did he know how close Harry and Fullbridge were? Likely so, for why else would Harry and Fullbridge’s cousin be attending the theater together if they were not all friends?

  Or was all of this just wild speculation on her part? So wild that it made her head hurt? That was more likely, she decided.

  Penny knew she should look away from the two gentlemen but she just couldn’t. In his well-tailored evening clothes, Harry was the very picture of masculine elegan
ce and virility. When he laughed at something Lord Pike said, his perfectly straight, white teeth flashed in the dim lights of the theater. A dimple appeared in his chin and his broad, muscular shoulders shook with laughter.

  He looked like a man any woman in her right mind might swoon over. Including her.

  Still, the knot in Penny’s stomach grew tighter. This was wrong. She couldn’t have him. She needed to trap Fullbridge. Except the duke wasn’t here and Harry was and simply looking at Harry made her stomach do odd, twisting, flip-flopping sort of movements that were not exactly unpleasant and altogether too appealing in some cases.

  Harry must have felt someone watching him (he was with Bow Street, after all) because before Penny could look away, he turned and looked directly at her, offering her a jaunty wave.

  Oh, dear, Lord above! He had seen her! He would likely think she was trailing him or worse, dangling after him despite what she had said just that morning, and she couldn’t have that!

  Somehow, Penny managed to tear her gaze away just as the house lights dimmed, indicating that the play was about to begin but she still couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. He was sitting only a few feet away from her. He knew she was here. He likely remembered their conversation from that morning and once more, Penny felt her face flame red. Lud, she had been such an idiot. She had accused an esteemed Runner of planting false stories in the Tattler.

  As if he would do such a thing and risk his entire career! For her of all people! Where had her head been? Not attached to her shoulders, clearly.

  This plot of her uncle’s was driving Penny to madness. She needed to be more careful. About everything. Including her reactions to Harry. Especially her reactions to Harry.

  For every time Penny saw Harry, he somehow ended up occupying more space in her brainbox. Space she needed to save for plans regarding how to trap Fullbridge into marriage so that Josie wouldn’t be forced to sacrifice herself. But the more Penny saw of Harry, the greater that flare of attraction became. Had it really only been a little over a day since their first encounter? And when had she turned into such a cotton-headed peagoose? Especially over a man who might not even like her all that much! What with her insulting him and all.

  By the time intermission arrived, Penny was so jumpy that even Miss Bridget suggested that if this play wasn’t quite to her liking, it might be time to leave since they had already accomplished their goal of being seen that evening. Penny was ready to agree, but first, she felt as if she had to make one last show of searching for the duke so that whoever was watching her could report back to her uncle that she was doing as ordered.

  While Miss Bridget left the box so that she could make arrangements for the carriage to be brought around, Penny lifted her opera glasses to her eyes and began scanning the crowd for anyone she might know – even though she knew precious few people here in London. When her gaze finally landed on Lord Fullbridge’s box, she was a bit disappointed to see that while Lord Pike remained, Harry was gone.

  “Perhaps called away on Bow Street business,” Penny mumbled to herself as she tucked her glasses back into her reticule and prepared to leave.

  “Actually, I came to see how you were fairing this evening, Miss Marshwood.”

  Penny let out an audible gasp and nearly dropped her fan when Harry appeared from behind the box’s curtain, a sly grin on his face.

  “Mr. Greer. You quite gave me a fright.” Somehow, she resisted the urge to clutch at her chest like a ninny or an over-wrought old woman. Or an absurd heroine in one of those gothic novels she read on occasion.

  “Apologies, my lady.” He dropped into a perfect bow, though that sly grin never left his face. “I merely wished to see if you were enjoying the opera.” He gestured to where Lord Pike was now speaking with another peer and a woman who looked to be that man’s wife. “My friend Lord Pike likes to conduct business on his uncle’s behalf during intermission and, well, I find my eyes glazing over with boredom. I’m not much for the running of estates and things. I’m more a man of action, though you would never know it by my life as of late.”

  Harry offered her a self-deprecating smile and Penny could not decide if he was being sincere or not. Still, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. “I am sure that, as a Runner, you have seen and done many more things than most of us could even dream of. Not all of them good. Why, in fact, I…” Unable to stop herself, Penny winced. “My apologies, Mr. Greer. I tend to ramble when I am nervous.”

  A curious light came into his eyes. One that spoke of interest. She hoped. And didn’t hope at the same time. “And I make you nervous?”

  “You do,” she sighed. Where, oh where, was Miss Bridget? “I have accused you of planting false stories in the press and I am afraid that you don’t have a very good impression of me, and well, I simply…” Finally, Penny faltered and, just like that morning, she wished the floor would simply open up and swallow her so that her mortification would be over.

  His smile changed then, from an almost wicked grin to something almost sad and remorseful. “It is I who should apologize, Lady Penny. I am well aware that I can be a somewhat intimidating man on occasion. It is the nature of my job, I am afraid. Though I did mean what I said this morning. You do not know me and, in your position, I can see how you might have made such a mistake regarding the Tattler article. I do have a certain…reputation.”

  “You mean for ruthlessness?” Oh, lud, could she simply not shut her mouth for once?

  “Yes. That.” Harry looked a bit sheepish now and once more Penny felt like a fool. How could this man tie her up in knots so easy? “I am very well aware that my reputation precedes me and that stories about my, ah, activities have appeared in papers all over England. But unless you are a criminal, I am not that frightening. I swear I am not. At least I try not to be. And the old tabbies of ton love me! I swear!”

  Once more, Penny felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Why couldn’t this man be a complete arse instead of completely charming? It would make him so much easier to avoid and make him that much less appealing to her. But he wasn’t an arse and he was appealing. More so than he should be.

  “It is me who should apologize again, Mr. Greer.” Penny waved her hand in the air. “It is just that this is all so…so…”

  “So overwhelming?” he supplied softly, surprising her with his understanding. “For a gently-bred country lass, I can imagine it is. You did spend most of your life in Cumbria, did you not?”

  “As of late, yes,” she offered cautiously. “Though my early years were in Cornwall.”

  Until my parents died and my life was turned upside down, she wanted to add, though she didn’t. The less this man knew about her past, the better. Though he could probably discover the truth of her past easily enough if he bothered to look. Therefore, she had to make certain she did not give him reason to do so.

  “In either case, London is likely a shock to you.” Like the gallant gentleman he was, Harry offered Penny his arm. “May I escort you to the lobby?” He inclined his head. “I encountered the enchanting Miss Bridget as I was entering the box, so I know you were about to depart. I assured her that I would see you safely to the lobby. You can trust me, of course. I am with Bow Street, after all. Highly reputable and all of that nonsense.”

  “I would like that.” Penny wanted to protest, firmly believing that no good could come from touching this man again, even though such a touch was strictly proper in this case. At least nothing good for her could come of it anyway. Not that Society would see his escorting her as a breach of etiquette, however. Nor would her escort, Miss Bridget.

  And Miss Bridget didn’t object because this man is a friend of Lord and Lady Berkshire, Penny mused silently as she took Harry’s arm a bit stiffly. And because this man is a Runner, everyone else we encounter will believe that I am perfectly safe. But I am not. Because I want more from this man than I should. Because I cannot save my cousin when all I can think about is this man.

  However, Penny said none of
that. Instead, she allowed Harry to continue to escort her through the convoluted halls of the theater. Odd. She didn’t remember them being this difficult to navigate when she and Miss Bridget had entered. Then again, since they were so late arriving, the hallways had been nearly empty.

  Now the halls teemed with people. Ladies in opulent gowns, dripping in jewels and doused in cloying perfumes. Gentlemen in well-cut evening clothes with pockets full of cheroots and wearing too much cologne. Theater staff doing their best to look unobtrusive and blend in with the gold brocade wallpaper as they scurried about with drinks and things she could not give name to. All of them a whirling, stinking, chattering mass of humanity. All of them pushing and shoving against Penny, threatening to wrench her away from her one bit of stability and sanity – the strength and safety of Harry’s arm.

  All at once, everything became too much for a woman like Penny, a woman not accustomed to such things. The crowd of people. The cloying scents of their colognes and perfumes all mixed together. The cacophony of sounds that suddenly seemed to echo through her mind.

  For the first time since the accident that had claimed her parents’ lives, Penny felt the old, familiar wave of panic well up inside of her and this time, she couldn’t push it back down as she had earlier. She needed to get out of here. Now. She needed to run. She needed to find some place where these people could not touch her, everything about them assaulting her senses.

  But where? Where would she go? She didn’t know this place. There was no Bridget to help her.

  But there was Harry.

  Somehow, he must have known she was having difficulty or perhaps he had felt her clutching his arm tightly, as if her very life depended upon it, for without a word, he whisked her into a nearby alcove that she hadn’t noticed and pulled her into a small storage room that held such things as extra chairs and broken opera glasses.