The Midnight Rake. Anabelle Bryant

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      Her delicate brows drew together as if she wished him to know something he did not.

      “Should I? You mentioned your father was a baron with holdings in the Cotswolds. I am afraid I never made his acquaintance.” He couldn’t know she meant because of scandal, instead the silence stretched on before she spoke again.

      “Have you met Lady Elizabeth Bretton? In our correspondence she mentioned becoming enmeshed in London society. Do you think she exaggerated?”

      The humor in her voice allowed his smile freedom.

      “She may view her entrée in such a manner. I, for one, cannot recall having an introduction, although I’m not one to linger with the debutantes. The name sounds vaguely familiar. Were my sister here we could solve the problem. Julia memorizes the social register.” He glanced out the window at the passing coaches. Myriad stars winked overhead. Such a clear night. A rarity for London.

      For several breaths they heard nothing but the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels.

      And then, “I met a friend of yours today at the modiste shop. Lady Alexandra Ravensdale. She spoke of you with fondness.”

      Excitement punctuated the retelling and he turned his head in surprise. “Did she? Her husband, the Duke of Wharncliffe, and I are great friends. I have known Devlin for nearly my entire life.”

      “Alexandra helped me select this gown.” Her eyes flittered to her silk skirt before rising to hold his gaze. “It is the loveliest dress I’ve ever worn.”

      The honest excitement in her voice entranced him. Lord, his sister possessed dozens of gowns and complained regularly she had nothing to wear.

      He attempted to occupy himself with examining the carriage interior, his eyes hungrily returning to Penelope nevertheless. She should feel special this evening. Each time he glanced in her direction it became more difficult for him to tear his eyes away. She looked exquisite, as tempting and delicate as a French dessert, draped in smooth silky frosting with the promise of a warm, sweet center. The thought of indulging caused his mouth to water, his fingertips to itch with the desire to glide over every curve of the shimmering fabric caressing her delectable body. He swallowed nervously and readjusted himself on the seat.

      “Her Grace is so beautiful.” She sounded a little in awe with the statement.

       Good lord, so are you. Breathtaking, actually.

      “Devlin and Lexi married a short time ago. They are well matched and genuinely happy.” Phin smiled at the remembrance. What were the odds of finding someone to cherish? One hundred? Two thousand? One million to one?

      “They seem exorbitantly so. It’s easy to see she holds his heart.”

       Who holds yours, Penny?

      “Yes, their story is an interesting one. Mayhap there will be a day when we’re kept indoors by the weather or have run out of things to say and I can retell it to you.” His voice dropped to a low tone as if he shared a secret or did not know what to expect in her reply.

      “I am sure I would enjoy hearing it. You make it sound very intriguing.”

       Oh no, it is you who remains intriguing. A beautiful little mystery.

      He studied her profile with intense interest. The picture he’d drawn with his words hinted at a long, satisfying relationship and he could not fathom why he’d suggested such a thing, most especially while he knew the circumstances surrounding her visit. Nevertheless an exhilarating thrill shot through him at the anticipation of a future with Penelope present. That is, until he solved her problem and said his farewells.

      “I would like that.” She smiled and he returned it with one of his own.

Chapter Six

      Penelope was becoming adept at keeping secrets. When she’d arrived to the city with its expensive avenues and properties, she harbored heartfelt gratitude for Lady Fenhurst. Less than a week ago, her life was at its bleakest. Now the last few days had transformed into a fairytale from a humble country cottage to a lavish London townhouse. And she was on her way to a function of the haut ton. The tumultuous series of events spun through her head with unbridled excitement.

      Still the true impetus of her exhilaration sat across from her. She appreciated the perfection found in Phineas this evening, waiting across the drawing room unbelievably handsome in his formal attire. She liked him well enough in a linen shirt on the picnic blanket. She never expected him to exceed her wildest imaginings by appearing heart-stoppingly handsome in a cutaway tail coat and cravat.

      He’d smiled at her when she’d come through the doorway, a devastatingly rakish smile, and his hair caught a warm gloss from the firelight. She would always remember his image and the invigorating rush of her heartbeat in that moment.

      Now, ensconced in comfortable silence within the carriage, her pulse thrummed in her ears begging her to produce a scrap of clever conversation. But did it even matter? Phineas belonged to a highly respected family favored by the good ton. Why would he give her a second thought? Likely every flirtatious debutante in London offered him their adoration.

      She stole another glance beneath lowered lashes. His wavy brown hair was combed away from his face to lend him a boyish look, while broad, strong shoulders filled his navy blue waistcoat marking him all man. Penelope averted her eyes to where a perfectly folded cravat brushed his chin. He had the nicest cleft there. If only she could reach across and touch the indentation, feel the roughened dip of skin, appreciate the strength of such a sturdy attractive chin. It somehow made her feel safe. Could a facial feature do that? His amber eyes glistened in the lantern light whenever he turned to speak. She blinked hard to stifle her preoccupation, then recited a silent litany of self-admonishment to quiet the bevy of butterflies come to life in her stomach.

      It was all for naught, to notice and memorize each of his features as if it would matter in the end. How wonderful to live in his home and become acquainted with his family, and to stop worrying about the rent or sufficient food for their meals. Oh, it was the least she owed Aubry. But in regard to Phineas, she squelched any hope. She was nothing more than the eldest daughter of a country baron and penniless to boot. Once the extent of her mistakes became known, he would be forced to distance himself or run the risk of shameful embarrassment. The realization that she might cause the Betcham family discomfiture threatened to surface but she declined to let it take hold.

      “Do you think it will be a large crush?” Her voice broke on the words. She hoped her tangled rush of emotions didn’t show in her eyes.

      “I am sure of it and that reminds me.” He picked up the split seat of the bench, removed a small box and opened it to reveal several masks and dominoes.

      “I wasn’t sure what color you would be wearing this evening so I purchased one in every hue.”

      He offered her the box and she took it to her lap. Every mask appeared lovelier than the next, the decision difficult, until she selected a gold and green pairing accented with peacock feathers. With the patterned silk of her gown, she knew it presented the perfect match.

      “Which will you wear?” She handed him the box and waited for his answer. He chuckled, a warm rich sound, much like the hot chocolate she drank СКАЧАТЬ