The Midnight Rake

by Anabelle Bryant

  In the parlor, they reposed in comfortable chairs around the marble table closest to the rear windows. A casual air enveloped the room and Phineas noted how perfectly Penny fit into his life. The pleasing thought entertained him until Harry caught everyone’s attention with an enthusiastic announcement.

  “I’ve come with an invitation for this evening. I know it is short notice, but I’ve organized a splendid gathering.” Harold leaned forward, anxious to extend his news. “It will be an excellent way for Penelope to form new acquaintances within the social set. Besides,” Harold paused, a good natured smile across his face, “who wouldn’t enjoy an evening of frivolity and parlor games?”

  Phin halted his ready retort, not one to find amusement in charades and other games bandied about during the season. Many an evening had been ruined when his insistent sister beleaguered him into participating in one of her socials. More the pity he’d had to play endless games of Lookabout and Blindman’s Bluff. He once tripped over a misplaced bootjack while blindfolded and swore he’d never be convinced to engage again.

  But now Penelope’s feelings were involved. He did not want to see disappointment in her sparkling jade eyes and while the room grew silent waiting for his response, one look at her expectant gaze convinced him he would happily play the fool all night if it brought her pleasure.

  “Sounds like grand fun.” Achieving a tone of enthusiasm for Harold’s benefit, he eyed Constantine in warning. His friend chuckled on the heels of his answer. In truth, no matter how much they dreaded Harry’s idea of willful stupidity, they were all good friends. At least Devlin was not present, or the jibes would never cease.

  “So which games will we play?” Con’s tone revealed his intent to instigate trouble, unfortunately Phin had no real way to stop him.

  “Whist? Faro? Vingt-et-Un? Maybe not cards at all?” Con paused for dramatic effect and Phin drummed his fingers against the chair arm waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

  “Perhaps a friendly game of Le Baiser à la Capucine?”

  “There’ll be none of that.” Phin’s loud objection prompted Penelope to question the meaning of the words and Harry, unable to display poor manners, translated the French as Guess the Kiss. Penny flushed a fetching shade of pink. Consequently, Phineas escorted his friends to the door.

  “Intriguing title for a game.” Penelope played with the collar of her day gown, her fingers flitting from one side to the other. “Whatsoever is involved?”

  “A great deal of kissing, I would imagine. Not that I’ve played myself.” He advanced across the parlor in two strides and eyed her with lively interest.

  “But how would one know?”

  “How would one forget?” He pushed back the lock of hair that fell forward on his brow, appreciating the delightful shade she’d colored with his question and then leaned against a nearby bookcase, his arms crossed over his chest. “The right kiss has the power to imprint one’s heart and ignite the blood, so little else matters until the taste, touch, secret of that kiss can be satisfied again.”

  Penelope’s eyes flared with his description and her fingers found her collar again. “I see.” Then the vaguest suggestion of a smile washed over her lips, as if his words struck home but she refused to acknowledge them. She excused herself and rushed from the room and Phineas could not contain his mirth, a satisfied chuckle escaping as she fled.

  When they arrived at Harry’s gathering, cards certainly signified. At least forty guests imbibed wine and supped on delectable morsels in the lush Russell Square townhouse. If Harry’s elderly aunts weren’t avid Faro players, the entire scene could be considered unseemly, but with the older chaperones participating in the gambling games, no one could turn an accusatory eye in Harold’s direction in reference to etiquette.

  Phineas introduced Penelope to as many of his acquaintances as possible. He towered over her petite frame, guardian and avid observer, yet her eyes remained clear without the slightest indication of recognition whenever she met someone new. Had she forgotten about her search for the unknown man? Had his kisses driven it from her memory?

  Despite the threat of parlor games, they settled in a corner near Devlin and Lexi, intent on enjoying the evening. A few words were exchanged and then Lexi looped arms with Penny and whisked her away before Phin had the opportunity for a lasting look.

  He frowned and cast his eyes from one side of the room to the other. Harry’s party proved just the thing. The guests appeared in high ropes. Julia would have enjoyed such a carefree night of amusement. He vowed to settle all issues with Daniel Winton and convince his sister to return home. The notion prompted his question to Devlin.

  “Were you able to discover anything further concerning Winton? I know of only a wager to be resolved in the next few weeks. I otherwise have no way to find the man.” He spoke in a low tone, his friend close enough to discuss his concern without the likelihood of being overheard.

  “We need to discuss the matter. I assumed here would not be the place.” Devlin nodded to a passerby in greeting, waiting for Phin’s permission to proceed.

  “This may be as good a place as any. It is unfair that Julia need leave during the season when Winton should be run out for his lack of decorum.” Disapproval for the man tainted his words.

  “Precisely, and you’re not going to like what I have to tell.” Devlin hesitated.

  “Go on.” He barked the order before continuing in a lower tone. “You may as well tell me the worst of it.”

  “Winton is currently on his wedding trip. His grandfather threatened to disinherit him. The old bastard arranged his marriage years ago without Winton’s knowledge. When faced with his grandfather’s ultimatum, he made a feeble attempt to amass his own fortune, but with four sisters to see married, he held little hope of accomplishing his goal. I’m reluctant to admit while all accounts confirm Winton cared for Julia, his affection for money won his heart in the end. Apparently the thought of living purse-pinched with a lady of his own choosing was not an option Winton would entertain so he bent to his grandfather’s wishes.”

  Phineas considered the news. Julia was better off without the malodorous man though revealing the information to his sister would be extremely unpleasant. Julia struggled with insecurities. This new development would do little to banish her demons. As he digested the revelation, he realized it confirmed what Arlis Ridley had suggested only a few nights earlier. How the newcomer had come by such accurate information was disconcerting.

  His displeasure evident, Phin dismissed the topic. “I understand his responsibilities, but it does not exonerate his behavior.” He would send Julia a note in the morning explaining the unwelcomed bit of news.

  Harold and Con joined them soon after and the small corner where he hoped to continue his quiet discussion grew considerably smaller. He sidestepped to allow his friends ample room, but then reconsidered and changed position so he could keep a close eye on Penelope’s whereabouts.

  “As loathe as you are to play at parlor games, I’m surprised to find you in attendance.” Phin passed a glass of brandy to Devlin as the footman could not reach each of the four men without tilting his tray and causing a spill.

  Devlin nodded his head in appreciation of the drink. “Lexi set her heart on it, and I can’t say I mind the evening overmuch. You have incorrectly concluded since we’ve had a child, Lexi and I no longer wish to mingle in society. While I could never admit to enjoying the celebratory status Con sustains, a night amongst friends now and again is tolerable.”

  Devlin had barely finished his last syllable before Harold objected.

  “Tolerable? You make this evening sound as if it’s punishment.” Harry signaled a passing footman and instructed the servant to return with the silver bowl from atop the grand chiffonier in the entryway. “I plan on enjoying myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect names for the charades tournament.” Without sparing a glance, Harry followed the footman at a brisk pace.

  Phin’s exp
ression mirrored his abject revulsion upon hearing the word charades. Stifling a chuckle, Con swiftly changed the subject. “Not my favored pastime either, but while we’re here we may as well enjoy ourselves. It would appear everyone else is.” Con surveyed the room with a quick sweep of his eyes. “Perhaps I should have feigned a bout of pregnancy sickness in kind to Isabelle’s and stayed at home, yet she would not hear of it and accused me of hovering.” He huffed an annoyed breath with the admission. “At least Harry proved smart enough not to invite that mutton-headed Ridley into his home.”

  Phineas noticed the ladies making their way toward the corner. His temper eased. Funny, how one glance in Penny’s direction usually set his mood to rights. With languorous ambition, he assessed the lovely smile gracing her face and then moved his eyes downward, stalling on her perfectly sized bosom. He fisted his hands to keep them at his sides.

  Con tapped him on the arm, interrupting his pleasurable daydreams as a silver bowl was thrust in his direction along with a short pencil and several pieces of ivory foolscap.

  “Here you go.”

  Constantine’s words danced with mirth and he released the bowl so quickly, Phineas almost dropped it. He glared at his friends, not bothering to ask if they’d written their names on the scraps of paper, folded and tossed into the bowl for teams during the schedule of games Harry arranged with enthusiasm.

  Devlin stifled a chuckle. Suspicious, Phineas opened his mouth to question why both friends viewed him with humor, but the ladies returned and he forgot what he meant to say as soon as his arm rubbed against Penelope’s shoulder. She looked absolutely enchanting this evening. Her eyes never left the parlor, viewing each guest as they walked past. The unpleasant realization she sought so eagerly to find her beau and hardly spared him a glance prompted a return to Con’s earlier remark.

  “Ridley has caused me nothing but unease and aggravation. London will be a better place when the disrespecting blackguard takes his leave. He’s a scourge on good society.”

  Penelope snapped her eyes to his. “Oh, the man sounds dreadful.”

  Devlin shot him a pointed glare. “Not in front of the ladies. I wouldn’t want anyone to worry.”

  He apologized, noting Penelope’s shudder. She appeared pale, and even though she recovered her jovial countenance soon after, he cursed himself for speaking so callously. He’d grown tired of hearing reports of Ridley’s iniquitous behavior. Something needed to be done about the situation, but tonight was not an evening designed for problem solving.

  As if sensing his mental musings, Harold called the guests to order from where he stood at the mantel clutching the silver bowl filled with names.

  He instructed the ladies to choose a paper slip from the bowl. The gentleman’s name written upon it would be their partner for a series of games beginning at midnight. Phineas exhaled a huff of impatience. He hoped Penny didn’t wish to stay for the schedule’s entirety. He had somewhere else he needed to be.

  He viewed her in front of the room standing in line with the other ladies and smiled at her loveliness. Surrounded by several women who prided themselves on being the height of fashion, Penelope appeared undeniably pristine and alluring. However would he let her go when the time came to say goodbye? However would he forget their kisses? The intrusive thought chased his smile away and he cursed out loud.

  “Is something amiss?”

  He pivoted to face Devlin, his friend’s attention focused on the front of the room. The ladies began to pass the silver bowl and draw names. When he did not reply, Devlin continued.

  “Are you worried you may get paired with Lady Bensly? You know with her hair arranged in that fashion, she no longer resembles a trout.”

  The remark was intended to bring humor to their conversation, but Phin remained so muddled with his thoughts concerning Winton and Ridley, he hadn’t considered Penelope would now be matched with some random stranger for hours of game playing. Away from his side and out of his view. Possibly charmed into distraction. By damn, he despised parlor games.

  The ladies continued to announce their partners, pair up quickly, and conspire in low whispers about their gaming strategy.

  “At least I’m assured the company of my beautiful wife during the melee.” Devlin smiled with wolfish guile.

  “What do you mean? How can you possibly be guaranteed to match with Lexi?” Phineas objected and Con turned, equally anxious to hear Devlin’s response.

  “It was not so hard to achieve, gentlemen.” Devlin took a long sip of brandy, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “I simply folded my paper in fours and bent the outward corners down. It’s a manner Lexi and I arranged beforehand. If we’re to endure a night of parlor games, we mean to enjoy it together.”

  “That’s cheating,” Phin muttered with disgust.

  “I know. What’s your point?” Devlin’s expression sounded anything but deprecatory and worse, Con laughed at Phin’s stricken reaction.

  Phin swallowed further objection, acknowledging his friend’s sharp perception of the evening’s droll entertainment and keen intelligence to prepare ahead of time. On the other hand, he held such a profound respect for the principles structuring his personal code of conduct he would never have chosen to cheat even if the notion occurred to him. All things considered, the alternative offered a dismal resolution.

  Two ladies waited to draw slips before Penelope took her turn, the line extending for at least ten more participants. She could choose any name from the bowl. With a look of tolerant anger, he viewed the men left unmatched. Harold was one of them and damn it all to hell, Harold already shared a dance with Penelope. That night he’d needed to leave the ballroom to ensure he didn’t introduce his friend to his fist. Harold was actively pursuing a wife. At times it was damned infuriating.

  Penelope walked to the silver bowl and his attention sharpened. Harold made a grand show of looking in their direction. Phin sent him daggers in return. His heart thudded in his chest and he cursed at his own foolishness in allowing his emotions and the evening to get away from him.

  She opened the scrap and turned toward the room, pausing for no apparent reason as she stared at the paper. She took several breaths, an unreadable expression upon her face.

  Phin took a small step forward, clenching his drink as Penelope spoke.

  “Viscount Fenhurst.”

  Surprised to hear his name announced, he almost dropped his brandy when Con slapped him on the back.

  “What are the odds? Good fortune smiled upon you this evening. Considering the amount of gentlemen in attendance, it’s incredibly good luck Penelope chose your name. The odds must be forty to one.”

  “More like an impossibility,” he muttered, surprise and appreciation clouding his thoughts. Perhaps the evening would not be a total disappointment.

  “Not an impossibility,” Devlin joined with a chuckle. “Penny announced your name.”

  Phin turned to face his friends, a flick of his fingertips revealing the scrap of foolscap he’d tucked into his waistcoat pocket earlier. “No. An impossibility without a doubt. I never put my name in that blasted bowl.”

  He didn’t wait to hear their remarks. He was needed at the front of the room as a midnight round of charades held an all new appeal. Uncanny, how the evening could turn around so swiftly. He reached for Penelope’s gloved hand and winked at her clever maneuver, much to her delight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Penelope adjusted the skirt of her muslin day gown a second time and attempted a smile. She reclined in the salon with Lady Fenhurst ready to accept callers although she did not feel well. Dark smudges showed beneath her eyes revealing the evidence of a night spent tossing and turning, her tumultuous emotions torn between the exhilarating remembrance of Phin’s kiss and her dire responsibility to find Simon. No matter how often she told herself to stop considering Phineas in romantic terms, her stubborn heart remained deaf to the instruction.

  And too, all through the ridiculous schedule of parlor game
s last evening, he was outright charming and breathtakingly handsome. How could she not want to spend every waking minute with him? Would everything begin to unravel like the first time she dared risk emotion on a man’s affection?

  “Mon dieu, what has you so discomposed? You haven’t spoken a word this morning.” Lady Fenhurst moved from the windows and sat on the end of a chaise near the fireplace. She reached for Penelope’s hand and nodded her head, her eyes soft with concern. “What troubles you, dear? You’re not yourself. Are you unwell? Shall I have Jenkins summon the physician?”

  “Forgive me. I’m merely tired. I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to late-night functions and the whirlwind of responsibilities of such gatherings. I met dozens of people last night, but not the one individual I seek. I’m beginning to think it is hopeless.” She forced another tight smile.

  “Au contraire. You’ve experienced a rich evening and feel overwhelmed, that is all. I would never have expected Lady Livingston to visit before calling hours, but it is her way. She’s eccentric and at times unexpected, but she’s also a dear friend who knows everyone who moves within the ton. I thought it important you meet so she may assist in locating the gentleman you wish to find.” Lady Fenhurst’s face displayed true maternal concern.

  “Oh, yes. I do wish to meet her. Please don’t think otherwise. I am fine.” She managed a stronger expression in hope of dispelling any worry although her heart ached. If only she could locate Simon and recover her mother’s cameo. She doubted he would return all the funds he’d stolen, but if he’d relent concerning that one piece of jewelry, she would not complain. That is, if he’d held onto the jeweled piece. A lick of despair threatened tears. It meant so much to her. As time dragged on, the chances of finding Simon grew more and more dismal.

  “I understand. I too had much on my mind as I returned from my social call last evening. Some dreadful gossipmonger mentioned seeing Phineas embraced in a servant’s alcove with an unknown woman. Quelle horreur! My son would never do such a thing. I raised him to be the cut of decorum and he always behaves with savoir faire. Detestable gossip, it will mar his reputation.”