by Ava Rose
"Come, let's have breakfast. You must be hungry." She pulled away and offered Mary a clean handkerchief from her dress pocket.
"Yes," Mary replied, cleaning her eyes and nose.
They walked arm in arm to the dining room where Mrs. Faulkner had breakfast waiting.
"How is your mother?" Anna asked as she took a seat.
"I have not seen her this morning, but she was doing better last night after the physician’s visit. She is not taking this well." Mary reached for some toast and jam.
"Understandably." Anna gratefully accepted a mug of chocolate from Mrs. Faulkner and began adding milk and sugar. "I will see her again as soon as I can."
A sip of the warm chocolate and a piece of toast calmed her nerves. The warmth of the liquid flowing down her throat into her stomach gave her some comfort, though the effect was far too brief.
"Where are you going today? And where did you go yesterday?" Mary bit into her toast with a loud crunch.
Anna felt she should leave out some details so as not to further upset the girl. "We are following a lead. A place in Cambridge...a carriage crossroads, to be exact."
"Can I come with you?"
"I am sorry, but that’s impossible. It's not altogether safe."
"I can't sit here and do nothing," she whined.
"Christiana needs you, now more than ever. That will be more help than anything, in the situation."
She paused as if considering Anna’s words. "You're right. I should be with my mother."
Anna smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Good advice," an unmistakable voice drawled from the doorway.
CHAPTER TEN
The catch in her breath, the flutter in her stomach and the clenching in her chest were entirely unexpected. Anna never thought that one person—one man—could arouse such feelings, and all at once.
Penforth was a sight in a dark gray coat, matching trousers, and a black vest that fit his form with sartorial perfection. His black hair was damp, either from a bath or the light rain outside.
His color choice matched hers, but then, he always dressed in dark colors.
As he walked into the room, Anna noticed he favored his healthier leg, and his face held a grimace when he sat in the chair opposite theirs.
"Mary," he greeted gently.
"Penforth," she returned, avoiding his eyes.
Tension thickened the air, making Anna very uncomfortable, like a cord had been wound tight about her.
"What would you like?" she asked Pen. "Coffee, tea, or chocolate?"
"Coffee would be fine." He picked up a slice of toast and began buttering, a question burning in his eyes; impeded by his sister's presence.
Anna signaled for the footman to serve coffee. She was dying to occupy herself, to avoid the pull of Pen’s presence.
"Anna told me the two of you will be heading out to continue the search for Libby," Mary said.
Very briefly, his affection for his sister shone in his eyes before it was concealed by a cloud of indifference. Affected indifference. "Yes, we'll leave shortly."
She nodded. "I judged you too harshly. I am sorry," she said quietly after a moment, her eyes glued to her half-eaten toast.
Anna smiled to herself. Mary was reaching out, extending the proverbial olive branch. It was up to Pen now to accept it and repair their relationship.
"I should be apologizing to you for being so aloof all these years."
"You're making amends now, aren't you?"
"I’m trying."
She finally looked up at that, and gave him a tentative smile. He returned it with one of his own. Anna felt a sense of pride, as if she had somehow played a hand in their truce.
When they finished eating, Pen stood, circled the table, and held out his hand to Anna.
"There's some business we have to take care of before we leave," he explained to his sister.
"I shall go see if Mama has woken."
"Yes, good idea." Pen pulled Anna to her feet. The gesture, coupled with his strong masculine energy, warmed her cheeks and called to the fore those feelings of affection swirling inside her.
To get away from him and the emotions, she pulled Mary out of the dining room and back to the drawing room to retrieve her cloak.
“Eva will accompany you home,” she said, helping the girl adjust the heavy wool about her shoulders. “I don’t want you out by yourself again. It’s not safe.”
“I won’t do it again.” Mary’s expression softened. “Thank you, Anna. For everything.”
Anna pulled her into her arms. “Always. I see you as family.”
Mary pulled away with something like an impish grin on her face. “Are you and Pen…?”
Anna shook her head. “No. We’re not.”
The young girl sighed. “That’s a shame, for I would love to have you as a second sister.”
So would Anna, but she didn’t want to dwell on impossibilities now. She had too much to think about and much to do.
“Give my best to Christiana.”
After Anna had seen Mary off, Webb approached. “Mr. Graves is here, my lady. He waits in the blue drawing room.”
“What’s going on?” Pen asked, his impatience palpable.
In her note, she’d made mention of a new development in Libby’s case without going into detail. She’d also asked Pen to send for Mr. Graves.
“One of our footmen, Van Daal, was ostensibly hired by a man named William Singer to watch Libby,” she explained, and saw his expression turn murderous.
“Where is he now?” Pen asked through clenched teeth.
“Detained in the cellar, sir,” Webb replied.
“Show me.” He turned to follow Webb and Anna grabbed his arm.
“Pen, wait. Don’t be rash.”
He yanked his arm from her grasp, the hardness in his gaze now directed at her. “You think me a heedless brute.”
“I—”
“You think I am going down there to beat him up.”
He was right to some degree; a part of her thought he’d throttle Van Daal on sight. But Pen was not a violent man, despite his possession of a mercurial temper.
“Get Graves,” he commanded over his shoulder.
She led the puzzled police officer to the cellar and remained by the doorway at the top of the stairs, watching the scene unfold. It appeared Pen had already questioned the man.
“Take him away and lock him up,” Pen said to Mr. Graves.
“May I ask the reason you want him locked up, sir?”
“Tell him,” he ordered Van Daal.
“I was hired by William Singer to watch Lady Elizabeth and report her movement on the night she disappeared.” He sounded sullen now, and had a belligerent look in his eye. Clearly, a night in the cellar had not shown him the error of his ways.
The police officer nodded, and heaved the man to his feet and up the stairs. Anna stepped aside to let them through.
“Perhaps you were right and the lady truly was abducted.” Grave whispered to Anna as he passed, his eyes darting in Pen’s direction. The man at least possessed enough wit to be aware of the dangers of speaking to Pen about this. “Shall we resume the investigation, Your Grace?”
“I am not the one you should be asking.”
Pen joined them. “Why are you tarrying?” he asked Mr. Graves.
“Nothing, si—”
“Mr. Graves was just suggesting he resume the investigation.”
Pen gave an intimidating smile. “Oh, you want to help now?”
“Yes, of course.”
Pen looked as if he was about to censure the officer, but changed his mind and instead said simply, “Search for Singer. The duchess and I will return to Cambridge shortly to question a carriage driver named Arthur Pelham. He might have a lead about Lady Elizabeth.”
Mr. Graves bowed. “Forgive me for doubting this case, sir.”
Pen’s upper lip curled derisively. “Get to work.” He looked down at Anna. “I am
certain you’re pleased I’ve not pulverized the footman’s face.”
“It was wrong of me to make such assumptions. I am sorry.”
He shrugged and brushed past her.
***
Pen pondered what Anna had said to Mary to calm her down. She was not the easiest girl to deal with and that was one of the reasons he avoided her. After last night, he didn’t think she’d ever speak to him again, but she had…and even apologized.
He turned his gaze from the carriage window to the woman in front of him. He could ask her what she’d said, but that would be admitting his own failure.
As though she felt his gaze on her, she raised her blue eyes to his.
“Nothing,” he answered her silent question.
She turned to look at the passing scenery. They’d hardly spoken since the beginning of their journey more than half an hour ago. The pattern of their communication puzzled him. Sometimes it appeared they were friends and could talk about anything and everything; and sometimes, the air around them seemed wound tight with tension. He didn’t know which of them was responsible for such inconsistencies.
Something was happening between them. There was no denying it. And the sooner they confronted it the better. He wanted to know what she thought of him and where he stood in her life. He’d occasionally caught her looking at him with something akin to fondness in her eyes. Pen couldn’t let her continue to harbor such feelings. Not for him.
There was no room for romance in his life.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“I am not at liberty to share that with you,” she replied, shifting slightly in her seat.
“They’re thoughts of me, then,” he declared with a smirk.
The blue flame in her eyes began to stir. “Why would I be thinking of you at this time?”
“Why not? We’re alone in a carriage.”
“Are you always this egocentric?”
He shrugged and then leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “Something is happening between us. I can feel it.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands on her lap. “I don’t believe I understand your meaning.”
“If I proposed marriage to you, would you accept?”
She appeared to take affront at the question. “What?”
“Would you accept?” he asked again. He was not sure where he was going with this. It didn’t matter, as long as they got him the answers he wanted.
“No,” she snapped.
“Why not?”
“We would not suit.”
“I am not asking you whether we would suit or not. I am asking whether you could ever see me as your husband.”
She sighed. “Fine. I have several reasons why not.”
He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. “Go on.”
She began ticking off on her fingers. “Point the first: I am not in want of a husband. Point the second: your brooding would drive me to distraction. Point the third: you don’t consider me your equal, and if you can’t do that, then you can never truly respect me. Point the fourth: you are not romantic.”
He’d hoped for rejection, so why now did her answer sting this much? He had thought he didn’t want her to want him. Apparently, he didn’t know what he wanted.
“And how do you feel about me despite these reasons?”
He caught a shadow in the depth of her eyes before she quickly recovered and shut him out. “We’re here,” she said as the carriage rolled to a halt.
He was not done with this conversation.
They headed straight for the cluster of carriages where they’d spoken with Clayton yesterday. True to his word, he was waiting for them when they arrived, despite the fact that the Van Daal incident had made them somewhat later than expected. He removed his cap, revealing a greying bald head and tapped the tall, thin man next to him.
“Sir, I did as you asked. This is Arthur Pelham.”
“Thank you, Clayton,” Pen said, handing him a wad of money.
His eyes bulged out in surprise. “T-thank you!”
Pen turned his attention to Pelham who looked at him with distrust. “Did he give you our message?”
“Yes,” the man replied warily. “Said I’ll be in trouble if I don’t wait for you.”
“Yes, you could be if you don’t comply. Can we step aside, please?” They moved away from Clayton and the other drivers.
“We’re looking for two people you may have transported two days ago. This woman.” He showed Libby’s portrait. “And a man with light hair and a scar on his temple.”
Pelham nodded. “Ah, yes, I remember them. A very pretty girl and a very handsome man. I conveyed them some days ago. They were going to be wed.”
Pen felt an icy chill run through him. He could not believe Libby would marry that easily and without any word to anyone. At twenty-two, and a year younger than Anna, Libby had stated she would never marry. He’d spent the better part of four years trying to persuade her otherwise, to no avail.
“The lady looked worse for wear and very drunk.” Pelham chuckled. “I don’t blame her. I mean, who wouldn’t drink to celebrate their upcoming wedding? She must have been happy to be marrying the gentleman.”
“This can’t be true, Pen,” Anna whispered. “Libby would never get married in such a manner. Not without telling me.”
“I know,” he murmured, his hand finding hers and holding tight. “Where did you take them?”
“I took them to Lexington.”
“You’re going to take us there,” Pen said.
“I will be happy to take you, but I have passengers…” Pelham scratched his head and Pen got the sense that he wanted to bargain. He was looking to gain from this.
“Which one is your carriage?”
“That one.” He pointed at the shabbiest carriage in the cluster.
“Do you have passengers waiting inside?”
He shook his head.
“Good. We are your passengers now. You don’t have to worry about payment. You will gain from both the information you’ve given us and by taking us to Lexington.”
The man’s eyes sparkled capriciously as he motioned for them to follow him to his carriage. Pen put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. There was no way he was going to allow Anna to ride in a carriage like that. She was not just any lady born with privilege, she was a duchess. And a good friend of his family.
And what is she to you? His mind’s voice asked.
No, he would not go there. Not now.
“We will follow you in our carriage,” he said to Pelham.
The man shrugged. “Whatever pleases you, sir.”
After handing Anna into his own carriage, he walked back to Pelham. He could have just instructed the man to ride beside his own driver and footman, but he felt this way was better.
“Stay close,” he said, before handing over some coin. It was enough to light the man’s eyes and ensure his cooperation. “You will receive more when we reach our destination.”
“Yes, sir!” Pelham grinned.
Pen rejoined Anna and knocked on the roof of the carriage to signal the driver to get moving.
“Do you believe that bit about Libby marrying?” Anna asked. She seemed very worried.
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She seemed receptive to Sir Anthony, based on those letters.”
“But she would never marry him, not like that. I know Libby and—”
“You have a pact,” he finished for her.
Her mouth fell open.
“How do I know about it?” He shrugged. “I overheard you making promises to each other to die as spinsters if you don’t find men who support your cause for indepedence.”
She pressed her pretty lips together and glared at him. He smiled at how delectable she looked. Flushed with anger? Embarrassment? It didn’t matter which. She was stunning and he could not fathom what she was doing to his mind. One moment he thought her obstinate to the point of exhaustion, and
the next, he wanted to dance with her in the moonlight.
Dance with her in the moonlight? What was that about?
“Finding such men is an ordeal. Perhaps even more trouble than it’s worth,” she argued, drawing him out of his foolish thoughts.
“Oh, but it appears Sir Anthony supports her cause. He said so in his last letter.”
Her cheeks took on a bloom. This time it could definitely be annoyance.
“That is still not enough reason for Libby to do something like this voluntarily.”
“Because you know my sister so well.” He meant for that statement to provoke her and it worked.
“Are you so desperate to marry her off that you are not abhorred by the notion of her marrying a man who abducted her?” She raised her voice a notch.
“Are you so insecure that you do not want to become a spinster alone? That the idea of your best friend getting married willingly and leaving you is unthinkable?”
The broken look in her eyes told him he’d hit a nerve and perhaps stepped out of line.
“You have no right to say that,” she ground out.
“You’re right. I apologize.” And he truly was sorry.
“Is it bad to want something better for her? You look like you would not be too bothered if she married Sir Anthony.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Anna.”
“Then explain yourself,” she seethed.
“The heart of a woman is malleable. That man could easily make her fall in love and want to marry him by presenting himself in the image of her dream. Most women have dreams,” he held up a silencing finger, “and don’t tell me that Libby is different. I may not know much about her, but I’ve seen drawings she made as a child; of herself being rescued from a monster by a prince, receiving flowers from an admirer, dancing with an admirer. I’ve seen them all. She had fantasies.”
Anna looked away like a petulant child. “I’ve never seen those drawings.” She folded her arms across her chest. “She could very well have outgrown them.”
“You may be right. She could have, but I need you to keep an open mind.” He took her hand and said gently, “I want my sister to be married but not to just any man. If we are too late and she has married this scoundrel, I promise you I will do everything I can to have the situation annulled.”