Penelope's Ploy
Penelope could not believe her
ears! Gabriel was going to propose - on her birthday!
Her heart beat fast and her feet
moved even faster as she ran upstairs, rang for a maid and began to dress for
dinner.
The sea-green gown she chose was
one of Claudette's finest. The gathered bodice and cap sleeves were trimmed in
point lace, and a straight, silky skirt fell from the raised waistline to swirl
about her feet. The maid carefully dressed her short curls, and the overall
effect was feminine and elegant.
She practically flew downstairs,
but when she entered the drawing room sedately, Gabriel stood at the door in
evening dress and she almost turned around and ran - almost. Only her own sense
of self and the knowledge that his proposal was in her future buoyed her enough
to make a calm entrance.
"Good evening, Miss
Wade," he said politely, although his eyes glowed as he bowed over her
hand.
"Lord Jarrod..." She
swept past him to greet everyone, and then spent the next half hour chatting
amiably with her hosts under the warm gaze of her guardian.
It wasn't until they sat down to
dinner, though, and she found herself next to Gabriel, that she finally chose
to speak to him.
Under the guise of polite dinner
conversation, she apologized for her behavior in the library. For once, he
seemed to accept her apology; then he tendered one of his own. Penelope would
have been suspect if she hadn't had further knowledge of his intentions, but
then he went one step further.
"Your brother says you wish
to ride in the park. Might I send Homer over from my stables to be your mount?
Harry says you raised him from a colt, and although he is a fine addition to my
stable, I believe you both would be much happier if he were here, at your
disposal. Actually, he will be yours to keep."
Penelope's eyes shone and her
heart melted. Here was her unique gift! He was giving her Homer!
Her sigh was deep, and if she
had not been in the dining room surrounded by those she was fast recognizing as
her family, she would have kissed him.
She still might, she thought
slyly, wondering how she could separate him from everyone else so she could
express her love and gratitude in a more intimate manner.
Something of what she was
thinking must have been reflected in her eyes, because even as Gabriel covered
one of her hands with his, he leaned over and quietly asked her to save her
gratitude for a later date.
To his surprise, Penelope only
nodded. What did she suspect? What did she know, he wondered. He would worry
about that later. This totally feminine impulse to drag him off wherever,
however, intrigued him, and did he not have a definite goal to obtain, he would
have taken her up on her silent invitation. Two weeks was a damned long time to
wait.
The priceless gift of Homer
meant a ride in the park, but Penelope was more than willing to pass up that
pleasure when she realized the Triumverate was lined up ready to join her.
"Who needs a groom, Miss
Wade?" Lord Varney asked smoothly as Penelope came into the drawing room
in a black riding habit with white frogging, another Claudette original.
"Especially when we are escorting the loveliest lady in town?"
Lord Michael scowled, feeling it
his duty now to protect Penelope when Gabe was not present, and even Penelope
frowned. The man was too slick and practiced, she thought grimly, but she
allowed the three gentlemen to accompany her to the park.
Even as they rode easily down
Rotten Row, though, Penelope allowed Michael to pair off with Varney, leaving
her with the tongue-tied young Coddington. She did not view him as warily as
she did the other man. Coddy reminded her more of Harry than anything, and she
treated him as easily as she would her brother. That, unfortunately, was her
mistake.
"M-m-might I have a
w-w-word with you, Miss Wade?" Coddy stammered. "Shall we
dismount?"
Penelope agreed only because she
had seen Gabriel ride into the park and she wasn't sure how to greet him. It
was becoming difficult to talk to him at all. She was too afraid of giving
anything away.
The two strolled down the lane
as others rode by, horses by the reins, and when the viscount stopped walking,
so did Penelope. She did not see the man on horseback waiting patiently behind
them. Coddy's face was contorted as he swallowed nervously several times, and
she was much too arrested by his strange grimaces to notice anything else.
Quietly, so as not to disturb the moment, the marquess slowly dismounted and
stood patiently behind his ward's horse, listening to every word.
"I...I say, Miss Wade, you
are a pretty girl and all, and well, my mother has said it is time I found a
girl to court, and...and do you think Jarrod would agree...that
is...uh..." He fidgeted nervously with the top edge of his cravat. "I
should like to pay my addresses to you, Miss Wade, if Jarrod would give
his..." He caught sight of the marquess, squeaked and ran for his horse,
leaving Penelope to stand alone on the edge of Rotten Row.
Jarrod started when he saw her
shake and wipe tears from her eyes, but when she looked up into his green eyes,
he could see she was convulsed with laughter.
"That...was the
funniest...thing..." she gasped, holding her sides. "I..." She
accepted the square of linen he held out, and wiped her eyes. "Thank
you," she managed to wheeze. She tried to give his handkerchief back to
him, but he waved it away.
"Another proposal like that
and I shall have to buy you a box of them."
That set Penelope off again, and
when she tried to climb back into Homer's saddle, she slipped and held onto the
horn, shaking once more. "Another proposal like that and I will be ripe
for Bedlam!" she chuckled.
"Allow me," Jarrod
offered, and easily lifted her back onto her mount. He held her steady at her
waist until she was secure, and he was glad he had a moment later, when Homer
whinnied in protest and took off like a shot, Penelope clinging to the saddle.
"What the-!" Mounting
quickly, he took off after her, worried that she had not been able to right
herself yet; if she could not, there must be something seriously wrong.
In horror, he watched ahead of
him as her saddle came completely off to one side, the same side she sat on the
horse, and Homer ran ahead while Penelope and saddle lay on the ground.
"Penelope!" Jarrod
made quick work of the space between them, swung out of his own saddle and ran
to her side. "Penelope!"
"Ohhh!" she moaned.
"Michael, see if you can't
catch Homer!" Jarrod barked at his brother, who had finally noticed
Penelope's peril. "Varney, ride back to Rothwell House and order a
carriage for Miss Wade!" The two men accepted his orders without protest.
"Penelope! Are you all right?" he gingerly checked her for injuries.
"It hurts," she
complained, rubbing her hip and shoulder, which had taken the brunt of her
fall. Her habit was torn at the shoulder and there was a tear up the side of
the skirt, opening to reveal white petticoats underneath when she shifted. He
hastily pulled the habit back to cover her.
They sat there, Penelope bruised
and battered in his arms, until Michael returned with Homer.
"I wonder what spooked
him?" Penelope asked.
"I wonder who
spooked him," Michael said grimly, holding up her saddle and showing where
the strap had been cut almost completely through. "See, the cut is clean
on all but the edge, where it snapped once Homer was set in motion."
Jarrod nodded his agreement.
"Someone has noticed Miss Wade's return to town," he said. They
waited silently until Lord Varney returned with her grace's barouche, and then
Jarrod picked up a protesting Penelope.
"Put your good arm about my
neck," he instructed. He kept his face impassive, but Lord Michael stood
behind Penelope, a grin threatening to split his face. Penelope was too
concerned with her shoulder to notice anything. Once inside the carriage, the
marquess kept her on his lap and instructed they be returned to Rothwell House
at once. Michael was charged with bringing the saddle and the horses home, and
Lord Varney was left to fend for himself, with Penelope's thanks ringing in his
ears.
"Obviously, we are going to
have to keep an eye on Miss Ward every waking moment," Michael insisted
later that afternoon, meeting with his brother and Harry in the library.
"We cannot allow her to get hurt again." Penelope had been duly
fussed over by her grace and the dowager, a doctor had declared her nothing
more than bruised, and she had been put to bed for the rest of the day.
"But what about the
sleeping ones?" the marquess wondered.
"Harry can stay with her -
that would be proper enough as he will be her guard. She has that blasted dog,
too."
"Why can't we just tell
Penelope the whole truth and move her to Jarrod House?" Harry wanted to
know. "It's not as if you are truly our guardian anymore, Jarrod."
"I know," he said
softly, "but to tell Miss Wade of your brother's restoration and recovery
at this point will disrupt several plans, including one to expose whomever went
out of their way to have Stephen disappear. We cannot take the chance that
someone will discover his existence if she were to know differently."
"Why?" Harry wanted to
know.
Jarrod ran his hand through his
hair and sighed. Part of his continued deception included a reluctance for
Penelope to discover his birthday present before her natal day. It also stemmed
from a need to be able to continue to stay in close contact with her. He did
not doubt her independent nature would insist on her removing herself and Harry
from Rothwell House and returning home with their brother before Jarrod was
ready for her to leave.
"I do not want anyone
remarking on the difference in her actions," was his only reply to Harry,
who shrugged and let it go. "Tonight we leave Harry in her room and one of
us in the hall, should we be needed," he finally decided. "Michael,
you and I will take turns in the hall."
"Yes, sir!"
It was easy enough to have Harry
guard his sister. Penelope had been uneasy all evening and the duchess had
slipped laudanum into her tea, causing her to sleep dreamlessly through most of
the night.
Harry, however, was having a
difficult time staying awake, and nodded off in his chair about two hours after
midnight.
The little man slipping into the
bedroom window grinned as he watched the siblings sleep. Yes, he was going to
kill two birds with one stone this evening, and earn hisself a hefty bonus from
the lady. He made his way stealthily toward the bed, but did not know Lucky was
the fortunate canine allowed to sleep at Penelope's feet.
Lucky, alerted when he heard the
window open, watched carefully as a strange-smelling figure crossed the room.
As he drew nearer to Lucky and his mistress, however, the more the hair rose on
the dog's back.
"Nice boy," the man
tried to soothe as he got closer, hearing a low growl from the dog's throat.
Lucky wasn't taking any chances.
Rising up on the bed he began to bark, rousing Harry, and bringing in Jarrod,
who had been seated just outside the door.
The shadowy figure sprinted back
for the window, but Lucky was having none of that. He sprang into action and
clamped his jaws down on the man's bottom, sending him sprawling. Before the
man could get up, he was covered by both Jarrod and the dog.
Jarrod and Harry escorted him from the room, determined to receive some answers, and Penelope slept on, oblivious to everything. Lucky, tail held high, walked proudly back to the bed, jumped up and snuggled down next to his mistress once more.
Chapter 17
"Why should I talk, yer
lordship?" Ned wondered several hours after dawn, under interrogation in
the cellar at Jarrod House.
"Because you've already
been identified as the person behind the attacks on Miss Wade," Jarrod
said coolly, "and if you tell us more, I am in the position to make your
life less miserable then it is about to become."
"Let me give him a douse on
the chops!" Michael cried. Harry nodded.
"Let's dress his hide
neatly and then hand him over," he added.
"Perhaps I should
give you over to these two gentlemen," Jarrod mused. "Would save me
the trouble of summoning a constable."
"You don't has nuttin' on
me, yer honor!" Ned cried, even as he looked warily at the two younger
men. Harry was cracking his knuckles.
"I have a witness that
places you at the attack in the alley behind the brothel... and I have a dog
that will identify you in a heartbeat."
"Dog, pah!" Ned spit
out.
"I could arrange for that
dog to sit guard over you for a couple of days," Jarrod offered.
"No, no, no," Ned
pleaded. "Not the dog! It was her ladyship's idea, anyways..."
"Let's have that discussion
now, shall we?" Jarrod said grimly.
Penelope woke with a headache
that morning, in addition to her bruised muscles, and was rather confused to
find Lucky curled up close to her back instead of sleeping on the floor at her
feet.
She had the nagging feeling she
had missed something the night before. The last thing she remembered was
feeling like Homer had run over her, and the duchess bringing her a cup of tea.
There was a knock at the door
and a maid brought in a cup of chocolate and a roll.
"Her grace says for you to
stay in bed if you wish, miss, but a Lord Varney is in the drawing room, asking
after your health."
"I suppose I had better get
up then, before I harden in this position." She and the maid, who was
rather shy and sweet, laughed together and set about perfecting Penelope's
toilette.
"Good day," she called
as she walked rather stiffly into the drawing room, wearing the simple sprigged
muslin that was easily her favorite gown. "Lord Varney..." She
extended her hand and the duchess and dowager exchanged glances as the military
man bowed over it.
"I hope you were not
seriously injured yesterday, Miss Wade," he said. Producing a posy of
violets, he gave them to her.
"Hmmm," Penelope
murmured as she buried her nose in their sweetness. "I like violets."
She made a mental note to tell Gabriel she liked violets as well as roses.
"And I am still sore today, my lord, but I believe I will recover."
"That is good news, Miss
Wade. Is there...that is... is it possible that I could speak with you
alone?"
Penelope eyed him with some
dismay. Not again, she almost wailed. However, she was polite enough, and when
the dowager and duchess quit the room under the flimsiest of excuses, she
turned to Lord Varney with a fixed smile.
Out in the hall, the duchess
sagged against her mother-in-law with relief as Jarrod strode toward them.
"Oh, Jarrod! Just in
time!" she cried. "Penelope... stop... Varney... proposal..."
"She's trying to say Varney
is in there proposing to Penelope, and she thinks you should stop him!"
his grandmother said.
"I wouldn't dream of
interrupting a proposal," Jarrod said with mock severity. "A girl
should get as many under her belt as possible." 'Until the best one comes
along...'
"Jarrod!"
"Run along, mother. I will
take it from here. I have much faith in Miss Wade, and if for some reason she
accepts, her guardian still has the final say."
The duchess was much relieved,
knowing her son to be the guardian in question.
Amusement warring with
irritation, Jarrod went down the hall to the music room, which opened into the
drawing room from behind a painted Chinese screen. He opened the door discreetly,
pulled up a chair and settled down to hear the latest in a series of proposals
being made to his future marchioness.
"I have been an admirer of
yours for some time," Varney was saying.
"Yes... I am aware of
that," Penelope said rather rudely. Not only was Varney on one knee in
front of her, but he had kept her standing, and her body ached. Not waiting for
his reply, she decided to sit down on a sofa several paces away, leaving him to
crawl after her.
Penelope rolled her eyes. His
lordship would have looked a lot less foolish had he risen, walked over to her
and repositioned himself on that knee again.
Behind the screen, Jarrod could
hear a strange swishing sound, and he was bursting with curiosity.
"Miss Wade, I would very
much like leave to pay my addresses to you."
"Really? I'm afraid you
will have to petition my guardian for that right. I'm a helpless female
dependent on her male protectors..."
Varney made a rude comment under
his breath, but instead of being offended, Penelope only laughed. "Can you
not do better than that, my lord?" She repeated an expression that made
his hair curl, and then laughed with delight when he blushed.
"Miss Wade!"
"Lord Varney!"
"I am serious, Miss
Wade!" he protested.
"And I am not." She
rose from the sofa and began to pace near the Chinese screen.
"But it would be a good
match!"
"For whom?" she
wondered. "Me? No, I think not. I am not particularly fond of marriages
where the husband is totally in charge and the wife has no say in any matter. I
do not approve of marriages where the wife has absolute power and her husband
is constantly under cat's paw. I want a marriage where the husband and wife
have equal say in everything - everything of importance, that is. Where a
healthy argument produces a healthy compromise. Where there is much love and
affection between the two partners." Her voice had dropped to a soft
whisper. "And I know of only one gentleman able to give me that
life," she added. "So that settles it," she said briskly. "I
thank you for the kind offer, sir, but I do not believe we will suit. Good
day." She was pleased to note Gabriel was nowhere in sight for this
proposal.
She strode from the room before
Lord Varney could reply, and she did not see him take the bouquet of violets
and rip them to shreds before storming from the house.
Jarrod, from a vantage point
down the hall, saw the man leave, and wondered what men scorned did for
revenge.
He did not have long to wait for
Lord Varney's revenge. The duke and duchess were to escort Penelope to Lady
Smythson's musicale that next evening, to be met there by their younger son and
Harry.
"What a waste," Harry
murmured to Michael as they waited for their family to appear. "We could
be at Jarrod House blowing clouds with Stephen and fortifying him with port to
get his strength back."
Lord Michael shook his head.
"You know what Gabe said the last time we did that..."
"Oh." Harry shuddered
as he recalled the cold fury that was his former guardian. "I would not
like that to be inflicted on my person," he admitted. Lord Michael agreed.
What Gabe had proposed to do to them should they corrupt Stephen's recovery did
not bear repeating.
Oddly enough, that same threat
had not worked on Slippery Ned the other morning. Only the threat of Lucky had
seemed to turn the tide. Now they had hard evidence against Lady Wade, and he
was waiting eagerly for them to put their plan into action. Gabe had said it
would be soon.
"Lord Varney does not look
pleased to be here tonight," Harry noted as that gentleman came into Lady
Smythson's drawing room. "He has been remarkedly absent from Rothwell
House since Penelope's accident."
"But he seems to have
zeroed in on the lady now," Lord Michael added, watching as Varney made
straight for Penelope. "I wonder where they are going?"
The two young men watched as
Varney and Penelope strolled off into another room, where refreshments had been
laid out for the guests.
"Should we alert
Jarrod?" Harry wondered.
"Not just yet," Lord
Michael advised. "Let the man have his say. Perhaps he is tendering a
proposal..."
"Ahhh, then it would not do
to interrupt the blistering set-down Penelope is sure to give him. I don't
believe she likes him above half."
"Exactly!"
"I wish to apologize, Miss
Wade, for springing my proposal on you in such a havey-cavey manner yesterday.
Please accept my apology."
"Accepted," Penelope
agreed.
"But I would tell you of
something important while we are alone, Miss Wade, and I do not know how to say
it, as it concerns your guardian, Lord Jarrod."
"Jarrod?"
"Believe me, Miss Wade, I
do not say this lightly..."
"Pray continue." She
was curious to hear what he would say.
"As you are well aware,
Jarrod has long worked with Whitehall in the recovery of soldiers missing in
battle, trying to account for those we could not confirm as dead or
injured."
Penelope did not know this, but
it did not surprise her. Especially after the guilt he had displayed over
Stephen's disappearance. She nodded, allowing him to continue.
"Last spring, we were
visited by Lady Wade, your stepmother, I believe, looking for information on
your late brother."
"Oh?" Penelope knew it
well; it had been she who had visited Whitehall that day.
"Yes. By coincidence,
Jarrod was in my office that day, when word came that she had called. He and I
discussed how your brother had vanished off the face of the earth, and then he
ordered the case closed."
Penelope gasped. "He can do
that?"
Varney nodded. "He is in
charge of the project to account for these men, so I imagine he can do whatever
he wishes. The fact remains, though - Jarrod ordered your brother's case
closed, just when there was hope he might be found."
"I don't believe it!"
Staggered, Penelope groped for a chair and sat down. "I...I thank you for
that information, my lord."
"Can I get you something to
drink, Miss Wade? You do not look well," he said somewhat insincerely.
She waved him away and Varney,
with a smug smile on his face, bowed and left her to her thoughts in the
refreshment room.
Lord Michael and Harry came
rushing in, immediately concerned as they took in Penelope's pale face. Without
question, they made her excuses to their hostess and the duchess, giving her
recent accident as a reason for leaving, and bundled her into the Rothwell
carriage.
Penelope allowed them to move
her about like a large rag doll, the implications of Varney's tale vivid in her
mind. Jarrod ordering the case closed at the time of her arrival in London was
no coincidence. Was it possible he had lied when he said he had been consumed
by guilt over Stephen's death? For the thousandth time since she had met him,
Penelope's extra sense failed her when it came to her guardian.
He was going to hear about this!
Penelope got her chance to
confront the marquess when they returned to Rothwell House.
"Master Gabriel is in the
billiard room, Master Michael," the butler told his employer's son as they
entered the house.
"I need to speak to
him," she told Lord Michael and Harry. "You two run along to your
club, or wherever you are headed this evening. I wish to speak to him
alone."
The two gentlemen resisted the
urge to nudge each other and wink suggestively, but nodded and excused
themselves as quickly as possible.
Penelope walked slowly into the
billiard room, where her guardian was reading a book, a cigar and a glass of
claret at his elbow.
"Care to join me?" he
asked. When she nodded, he lit a small, thin cigar for her and poured her a
glass of wine. She settled down on a sofa opposite Jarrod, took a sip and blew
a cloud.
"I missed you this evening
at Lady Smythson's. It was deadly dull without you there..." she all but
purred.
He glanced warily at her over
the rim of his glass.
"I believe you had
sufficient entertainment in our brothers."
"Not for the type of
entertainment I'm thinking of now..."
"Penelope? Are you
feverish?" He stood up and leaned over, putting a hand on her forehead.
"You feel flushed. Perhaps you are trying to do too much too soon?"
"I think this is a case of
too little, too late, my lord," she hissed, jumping to her feet and rounding
on him like a tiger. "Do you deny closing my brother's case at Whitehall
at the same time I was making enquiries into his existence?"
"I do not deny that,"
he said stiffly, knowing all too well whom would have been responsible for
giving her this information. Revenge, indeed.
"I don't believe
this!" she railed. "I thought you felt guilt over his disappearance!
I thought you were doing everything in your power to locate him. I thought... I
don't what to think anymore! This entire time you had his case closed and were
sitting back, leading me on, making me believe... Ooooh! I thought I loved you!
I thought... You don't even want to know what I think right now! I..." She
continued in this vein for some minutes, punctuating her tirade with strings of
unmentionable words and phrases.
Jarrod stood by and let her. It
would be so easy to take her in his arms and offer an explanation, but he could
not, not when word of Stephen's existence might get back to Lady Wade and tip
her hand. He would have gladly revealed her brother's existence but for that
fact.
"I hate you!" she
finally screeched and threw her claret in his face. "Now get out of my
sight!" she demanded. "I never want to see you again!" She was
hanged if she was leaving first. She lived there, he did not.
With a heavy heart and no reply
to her accusations, he left the room and the house.
Penelope sat down on the sofa once more, and cried.
Chapter 18
With a week to go until her
birthday, Penelope threw herself into plans for the ball. No task was too large
or too small, however, to keep her mind off Jarrod's perfidy. Of all the things
he had done to her - and there had been plenty - this is the one that put Pen
in a bad loaf. How the devil was she supposed to love him now, when she hated
him so much?
Fortunately, Jarrod was avoiding
her. Only once did they find themselves in a room together. Penelope had sat
down for breakfast one morning, with the duke for company, only to hear the
marquess announced. She excused herself immediately, even as a footman served
her a cup of tea and a brioche; she was never so glad to see luncheon served
later that day in all her life.
To their credit, both Lord
Michael and Harry tried to help. Unaware of the particulars, only knowing that
the two had been in another altercation, they spent several days trying to
cheer Penelope. For their pains, Harry received a kick in the shin and Michael
was threatened with Penelope's fives.
By the day of the ball,
Penelope's bad humor had begun to fray even the duchess's nerves, and she found
herself armed with solitary tasks that did not require supervision. She was in
the music room that afternoon, cleaning harp strings, a large pinafore tied
about her day dress of pale blue muslin, when Jarrod came in.
"What do you want?"
Her tone was surly and she plucked a string, making a sour note.
"I wish to talk to you.
First of all, happy birthday, Miss Wade, and many happy returns this day."
Jarrod looked immaculate in a bottle green coat, tan inexpressibles and a snowy
white cravat, whereas Penelope felt hot and dowdy next to him, her hair about
her face and dirt smudges on her cheeks. She didn't know the marquess found her
absolutely adorable.
Penelope said something
insulting under her breath and continued running her cloth along the harp
strings.
"I wish to present your
birthday present before the ball, Miss Wade," he continued, as if she had
not said a word, "but first, a few explanations. It was not my intention
to deliberately conceal your gift from you. I would have given it to you
sooner, but it was not my decision to make. You will understand in a
moment."
His penitent attitude caught her
attention and she ceased dusting.
"But even before that, I
have a confession to make. It is one I want to make now, because it will either
clear the air between us somewhat or make it worse, but I cannot, in all
conscience, continue without an admission."
"Yes..."
Jarrod, who was still standing,
began to pace back and forth in front of the pianoforte. "When you were
masquerading as Mr. Wade, I thought you to be an adventuress of the worst
sort."
"Oh? Really...I had not
noticed," she grumbled.
He laughed, but it was not a
humorous sound. "You don't miss a thing! You know damn well, Miss Penelope
Wade, how I treated you - like a woman of easy virtue! I was even to the point
of offering you a carte blanche when I discovered you were my own ward!"
"You were?" If he
thought to anger or frighten her, he was mistaken. She was actually pleased.
"I'm flattered," she said. "I thought you were only interested
in exposing me as female. What were you going to do?"
"I had a little house in
Chelsea lined up for you, as well as servants, and a hefty bank
account..."
"And once you realized I
was your ward?"
"I canceled the account and
found new positions for the servants."
"And the house?"
"The house I signed over to
Claudette, so that she might have a place to live and work from while she
searched for a shop location," he admitted. "I did not need it, and
she did. I told her to consider it an investment from a business partner. My
only relationship with Claudette has been one of a true business nature."
"I knew that," she
said softly. "You didn't need the house? Why not? You could always find
yourself another mistress..."
"At that point I knew there
were not going to be any more mistresses, Penelope."
She did not miss his use of her
Christian name. "I see... Gabriel. Is this your only confession?"
"No. I wish to clear the
air on the matter of your brother Stephen. It is true that I officially closed
the case, but only because you were becoming too inquisitive, and I did not
wish my private investigations to be compromised. Even before you came to
London, Michael was in Belgium, ferreting out soldiers who had been left behind
for one reason or another, all the while trying to locate your brother."
Penelope gasped. "Is this
true?"
"Ask Michael if you do not
believe me, and at this point, I would not blame you for not trusting my word.
I can in all honesty say I have bungled and mismanaged this entire situation
from the moment I met you. But yes, I have been searching for your brother for
months. When you thought Michael and Harry were in Scotland, I had them on the
continent... I did not like deceiving you, but the fewer people who knew
everything, the better. Especially when... No, I will take you to your present
now, and then answer more questions later. I am not the only one with answers,
as you will see. Will you come with me?"
A curious Penelope ripped off
the pinafore and threw it over the harp before taking his offered arm.
"I believe you will find
this present to be unique, and at a price far above rubies," he quoted.
A unique gift? She stopped before they reached the
connecting doors between the music and the drawing rooms. "This is my
unique gift? I thought that was Homer!"
Jarrod looked down in surprise
and his eyes narrowed in thought. "You knew?"
"Well..." Penelope
actually blushed, and urged him forward once more. "I had come back
downstairs that day to apologize and, er, the door was open, and - and you have
been known to eavesdrop on me!" she insisted. "You overheard your
brother's proposal, and Coddy's, too!"
"And Varney's," he
admitted.
"What? There was no way
in..." They had reached the doorway, and when Penelope saw the screen, she
realized how he had managed to listen to that third proposal, and started to
laugh.
"I always enjoy hearing you
laugh, Penelope, my love," a familiar voice said from the drawing room.
"STEPHEN!" Penelope
shrieked. Dashing around the screen, she found her elder brother seated on the
sofa, and threw herself into his arms. "Stephen!" she repeated, and
promptly burst into tears. "Where have you... I knew you weren't... I've
missed you so much!"
Penelope never realized there
were other people present in the drawing room, but it was a moot point, as the
marquess ushered everyone out, leaving her alone with her brother.
"Shhh! It's all right now,
Pen, it's all right," he soothed, stroking her hair as she sobbed quietly
on his coat.
"Oh, Stephen! It has been too
long! What happened? I've been so worried... And Harry knowing these last few
months! Imagine that!" Stephen chuckled.
"Probably the first time in
the lad's life he has been able to keep a secret!"
"But where have you been?
Have you been in London long?"
"I've been at Jarrod House
since the end of August. Before that I was at first a captive and then ill, and
then recovering in Belgium."
"Captive?"
"I was kidnapped, actually,
in the midst of the battle. That was why Jarrod was not able to find me. I was
held in a barn for a number of months, while my captors negotiated for a
ransom. It wasn't until I overheard the order to kill me that I knew I had to
escape."
"When was this?"
Penelope demanded, knowing the answer before he even spoke.
"Last April..."
"I knew it! Stephen, I felt
it! I knew you were alive! Who in the world would want you..." Again, she
knew the answer to her own question. "Lady Wade!"
"Exactly. It wasn't until I
discovered I was to be snuffed out that I heard her name spoken. I don't
believe she ever meant to pay ransom - it was all a ruse to get me out of the
way. I knew I had to get word to you and Harry, fearing for your lives as well,
but after my escape, I fell ill and was unable to send a warning."
"But Stephen, what are we going
to do? She can't be allowed to continue, and there is a man out there somewhere
who keeps trying to kill me." Stephen frowned.
"Didn't Jarrod tell you
what happened? They caught him last week and he has already been
transported."
"They did? He was? No one
told me..."
"Fools - did they think
they were trying to protect you?" Stephen laughed. "Don't any of
those clodpoles know you better than that?"
"I suppose not,"
Penelope said with a smirk.
"But there is one who would
like to get to know you better..." he teased. "All through Belgium,
all I heard was 'Penelope this' and 'Penelope that,' till Harry and I had to
threaten to drown Lord Michael." He watched as his sister's face fell.
"Oh, I've already turned
him down," she said, recovering her composure.
"Good for you. He's a nice
lad, I grant you, but not exactly your style."
"Oh? Have someone in mind
for me, then, oh, guardian?"
"Happy birthday, dear
sister," he said with a quick kiss to her forehead. "Which means I am
no longer your guardian. You are free to choose where you will. However, should
you make the wrong choice..." He left it at that, but she only laughed.
"I don't believe my choice
will disappoint you."
"Have one in mind
already?" he asked, surprised.
"Perhaps. Now, what are we
going to do about Lady Wade?"
"Unfortunately, although
there are general plans, we do not know when she will force our hand. We hope
it will be tonight. Word has already gone out that I am alive and back in
town."
"I'm so glad you are!"
Penelope cried, throwing her arms about her brother's neck.
The duchess came in quietly at
that point and beamed at the siblings.
"I hate to interrupt, Sir
Stephen, but it is time for Penelope to prepare for the ball."
"Of course, your
grace."
"Yes, your grace. I shall
be up momentarily." Giving her brother another hug, she rose from the sofa
and headed for the music room door. "I have to remove my cleaning supplies
first," she told her brother and rounded the screen.
The connecting doors were
closed, but when she went in for her dust rag and pinafore, Gabriel was seated
at the harp, running his fingers down the strings. Her pinafore was lying
across his lap.
"Gabriel!" she
exclaimed. "You should be preparing for the ball!"
"I could say the same of
you," he replied, rising from the instrument.
"I just came in to..."
Suddenly shy, she ducked her head and snatched the pinafore from his hand.
"I must be going now, or your mother will have my head." She did not
see the tender expression on his face.
"Penelope..."
"Yes?" She refused to
look him in the eye, but she allowed him to take her hand.
"Happy birthday. Will you
open the ball with me?"
"I...yes."
"And will you save the
supper dance for me?"
"I...yes."
"Good. I will see you
later."
Flustered, Penelope ran upstairs
and reached her bedchamber before she realized she had not thanked Gabriel for
her gift. Her unique gift. The gift she was to receive before his proposal.
Would that proposal be tonight at the ball?
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author.