The Midnight Rake. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ For a city-placed townhouse, this presented a grand lifestyle. How very different than the indigent rented cottage she and her sister had called home since their father’s death left them heartbroken and penniless. Without a doubt, Penelope shouldered blame for every problem chasing at their heels since she had brought about the ruin of her family. What a mess their lives had become, all because she’d foolishly believed herself in love.

      A light knock on the door adjoining her bedchamber with her sister’s roused Penelope from her melancholic thoughts. At the sound of Aubry’s call, she gladly bade her to enter.

      Aubry, younger by five years, looked almost her twin. Slight feminine women by design, they’d lost weight since falling into their penurious situation. Laying their father to rest and relinquishing their childhood home to bankers, diminished Penelope’s usual enthusiastic approach to eating. It had yet to return. Instead, regret and guilt gnawed at her conscience. Penelope gave her head a purposeful shake.

      “Are you rested? Lady Fenhurst said you were taking a nap. If you’d slept when I did in the carriage earlier, you might not have−”

      “Solved one of our biggest problems?” Aubry slipped into the room, a tentative expression on her face. “You aren’t angry with me, are you? I know I did an unexpected amount of talking and may have got carried away revealing things we decided to keep private, but ultimately by my sharing a small piece of our plans, I gained this excellent opportunity to pursue our goal. Not to mention, the security of Lady Fenhurst’s protection. You cannot argue with that.”

      “Had the Countess not proved so kind and generous, I would be angry. You must remember to be more prudent in the future.” Penelope softened the stern reprimand with a smile. Having had to surrender so much control since her father’s passing, any unexpected change in plans unsettled her. “I’ve rung for tea if you’d like to join me.” She forced a cheerful tone while Aubry settled on a corner of the bed. She watched in mild amusement as her sister stretched with languid enjoyment.

      “It is amazing. I will be forever grateful to Lady Fenhurst if by allowing us to accompany her to social events, she enables me to find Simon. Her assistance is more than I ever hoped for. More than I deserve.” She muttered the latter comment under her breath, a lugubrious admittance meant to punish.

      “For the one hundredth time, it is not your fault.”

      “Oh, you will defend me without end, when I alone am responsible for leading our family into ruin and our father to his death.” Despite Penelope’s immediate objection, Aubry’s voice held such conviction she was terribly tempted to accept her sister’s words. The tea arrived and she set about pouring two cups, forcing herself to change the subject. “I met Viscount Fenhurst below stairs.”

      Aubry’s eyes flared as she accepted her tea. “Did you? Is he handsome? Charming? Is he a sharp dresser? Whenever Lady Fenhurst spoke of him during the carriage ride, he sounded more than wonderful. Is it all true?”

      Aubry’s persistent questions dispersed Penelope’s thoughts of regret. She stirred her tea with vigor while considering how her sister tendentiously romanticized every situation. “You can get that twinkle out of your eye. And why, good heavens, would you wish to know if he is a sharp dresser?” Her words came out in a rush of sisterly protectiveness. “You are only seventeen years old. Let’s not forget the image of a comely gentleman led me to believe Simon would invest our entire savings, my dowry, and father’s accounts in a successful venture that turned out to be nothing more than a self-interested escapade to line his own pockets.” She sipped her tea as if to wash away the taste of bitter medicine. “How I ever agreed to marry such a blackguard without seeing his true character is an insult to my intelligence.”

      Penelope’s voice softened throughout the flow of her discourse, and she lowered her eyes to the bottom of her teacup wishing she could read the few leaves settled there. If only she could turn back time and remedy her decisions.

      “You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Aubry’s voice was all concerned whisper. “Neither one of us could have predicted Father would fall into sharp decline.” She paused for a long moment. “And truly it was wrong of Father to aspire to elevate his own status through our upward marriage. That alone explains his forthright enthusiasm in accepting Simon’s offer for your hand.”

      Again, the familiar temptation to forgive herself and accept Aubry’s words as truth wriggled to the surface. Her sister was indeed insightful, but then she’d been forced from her gilded world into reality by Penelope’s fateful mistake.

      As a baron by tenure with no life interest entailed to his property, their father viewed Simon’s attention as an immediate vault into higher circles and Penny was too naïve and too entranced with the image Simon presented to suspect he played her false. While well-meaning, her father’s aristocratic focus placed happiness as second to title. Penelope didn’t agree with that order, believing true love the most honest emotion.

      If his theft hadn’t proved scandalous enough, her duplicitous bridegroom left her standing at the altar in utter embarrassment, the laughing stock of the Cotswolds, not only wronged in love but pushed into a penurious state by the end of her wedding day. Gossip of their ruin spread like wildfire stoking her father’s depression to a crippling state. The realization that she brought about his end, when she only wished to make him proud, created a well of despair buried so deep, Penelope dared not consider it or else she’d never stop crying.

      Her contemplative silence fueled her sister’s loyal defense.

      “And those heartless bankers, how dare they demand immediate payment? Their relentless attempts to collect funds nipped at the heels of our tragedy. It is no wonder Father was devastated by the social scandal and sudden threat of poverty. His loss of the barony was a crushing blow, his hope for the future, and entire lifesavings gone in one swoop due to the greed of unscrupulous investors.”

      Penelope refused to consider how modestly they’d laid their father to rest. They’d eschewed black gowns and worn mourning ribbons as a pitiful compromise, with not one penny to spend. In little over a year, everything had fallen apart quicker than a house of cards because she believed the lies of one dishonest man.

      “Only I can shoulder the blame.” Penelope released a disheartened sigh and replaced her cup on the tray. “I accepted every lie Simon Maddock told.”

      “Simon swore his love to you. We all thought him true,” Aubry continued with pique. “We had no idea he’d lied about his finances, station, and influence.”

      Her sister’s rationalizations did little to soothe Penelope’s regret. On a good day she regarded Simon with angry disdain for what he’d stolen was worse than her heart, he’d destroyed their future. On most other days, she wondered if he’d ever harbored feelings for her and if she’d ever trust affection again or forever be alone with her regrets. Unable to formulate a suitable response to her sister’s argument, the silence in the room became deafening.

      “When we find him, we will report him to the authorities. We will see the devil punished for his deceit.”

      Penelope remained silent, her sister’s words nothing more than a child’s innocence although at present they had no choice.

      “It will be no easy task, but I vow to see it done.” Penelope’s answer hardly disguised her promise full of doubt. How could two gently bred ladies, two impoverished gently bred ladies, somehow locate, ensnare and report the blackguard when few resources and little proof of his deception existed aside from a collection of false promissory notes and a few poorly written love letters? The tightly bound pile of papers caused her distress СКАЧАТЬ