Penelope Page 2

  The dowager frowned, “You are going to stay right here. I had promised your mother that I will take care of you. I will provide you with as many seasons as required until you are wed, and to the right man.”

  Penelope smiled gloomily, not really believing that the dowager could follow through on her promise. She did not expect more than one season and doubted if she could intrude on the dowager’s hospitality any further than that. Besides, if Finnshire men ran the other way whenever she approached, then what chance did she have with the polished London men?

  “Tell us of the adventure,” Lady Radclyff said soothingly.

  Penelope took a deep breath and pushed away her unhappy thoughts. She once again assumed her storyteller pose and said, “Yes, the adventure … Where was I? Oh yes, so I said goodbye to my sisters, and accompanied by my uncle, an armed guard on horseback, and my maid, I set forth in the post-chaise to London. It is but a trifle few hours journey and I assumed it would be a simple, uneventful ride. The day was hellishly fine, with a bright shining sun and not a cloud to be seen for miles. I had set off feeling melancholy, but the thought of seeing London for the first time in my life soon had me thrilled. We stopped at an inn, The Golden Pass, and had a spot of lunch. It was far from golden, let me tell you. Why, I think the chicken they served me was, in fact, a poor crow that the sour-faced innkeeper shot down in his backyard. My appetite thoroughly ruined and with all of us feeling decidedly nauseated, we set off once more towards London. We bounced along comfortably lulled by the trotting horses when all at once our post-chaise shuddered to a halt. A shout by the driver had my uncle poke his head out of the window. When he turned back in, his face was ghostly white.”

  “No, what was it?” Lady Radclyff asked in a hushed voice.

  “It was … the Falcon.”

  The dowager let out a small scream and Lady Radclyff grabbed Penelope’s hand and said, “Oh dear, not the … not the Falcon.”

  “The very same,” Penelope said, nodding sagely. “He had at least ten men with him and we were dreadfully outnumbered. He ordered us to get out of the carriage and we had no choice but to comply. Our lone gunman was completely surrounded, and my poor uncle trembled so. My maid Mary swooned and lay prostrate on the ground as soon as she saw him. I almost joined Mary as well when I spotted him. The Falcon, let me tell you, cut a remarkable figure.”

  “What did he wear?” whispered the dowager.

  “He wore a black mask, a scarlet suit with a long satin black coat, and his hat was made of pure French lace.”

  “His stockings?” Lady Radclyff asked breathlessly.

  “White silk,” Penelope promptly replied.

  “Then what happened?” Lady Radclyff asked, now sitting at the very edge of her seat.

  “I was pale with fright, and my uncle stood mute in terror. The Falcon ignored us, and flinging his cape across his shoulders, he ordered the men to bring out our trunks. He kept his pistol trained at Uncle and asked one of his men, Terrible Tim, to break open the locks. He soon had one of the trunks open and its contents displayed. Imagine my horror when I realised that the trunk was no one else’s but mine. I fairly shook in indignation. Imagine going through a lady’s unmentionables in such a manner. My anger gave me the strength to object and I said to him, ‘Sir, that is my trunk. How can you go through a lady’s belongings with no shame whatsoever? What would your mother say?’

  He paused and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. His black eyes flashed behind the mask.

  I stared right back, refusing to drop my lashes. I had found the courage to speak and I refused to be cowed.

  He then said to me, ‘My dear lady, my mother threw me out when she caught me stark naked with the milkmaid in the barn.’ ”

  “No, he didn’t say that!” Lady Radclyff exclaimed in shock.

  “Oh, he did and more. I can admit to you now that I was frightened and horrified, but I composed my face and said coldly, ‘Shame on you, sir. It is not seemly to be unclad in the presence of a woman. Your mother was right in showing you the door. Instead of repenting, you have taken to robbing innocent travellers. Have you no fear of God?’

  He seemed taken aback at my boldness for he replied more respectfully, ‘I do beg your pardon for robbing you, ma’am. It is but misfortune that makes me do so. I promise to leave you enough to see your journey through. I always apologise to my victims after disposing them of their worldly goods. As for God, if he existed, then I wouldn’t be married to that milkmaid today. She was so fair when we tumbled in the hay, but as soon as the banns were read, she showed me her true colours. She has already born me eight brats, and I am not even sure which ones are mine. Yet I need to feed them and do my duty by my family.’

  I truly melted at his plight. I softened my tone and said, ‘How sad. Eight is a very large number. I am pleased to hear that you apologised to your victims. Still, I think you should stop being a highway robber. Can’t you find some honest work?’

  ‘Oh, but this is just a side job. I am a burglar of some note, a deer stealer, and a horse thief. Highway robbery is just a side profession,’ he replied proudly.

  I pulled myself up straight and addressed him thus, ‘Then you do not need our shillings and our pounds. Unhand us and let us be on our way. It is getting late and we still have a three hour journey. We cannot afford this diversion. If I had not been in a hurry, I would have taken the time to visit your wife and tell her of your doings. I am sure she would not approve.’

  That seemed to do the trick, for the poor Falcon visibly quaked with some unknown emotion. His eyes moistened and his bottom lip, which was visible beneath the mask, trembled ever so slightly.

  He finally got himself under control and said, ‘It has been a long time since a woman scolded me thus. The last time … last time it had been my sister berating me for leaving home. She begged me to change my ways, but I was so full of pride that I ignored her words. My wife is too busy tending the children to bother telling me what to do. I admit I do miss my mother, and my brothers and sisters … to have them scold me once more ….’ he trailed off.

  My heart wrenched in pity, and I approached him and asked softly, ‘What is your sister’s name?’

  ‘Penelope,’ he answered.

  ‘So is mine! I too am Penelope. Penelope Fairweather,’ I said curtseying.

  Now let me tell you, Lady Radclyff, my curtsy had the oddest effect on him. Since I treated him like a gentleman, he felt it was his duty to respond in kind. His chest puffed up and he eyed me so fondly that I felt a twinge of affection for the poor beleaguered soul. ‘Jimmy Grey at your service,’ he replied, bowing back with such flourish and elegance that in my place even King George would have been flattered.”

  “Jimmy Grey?” Lady Radclyff interrupted in astonishment.

  “Yes, doesn’t sound so fearsome now, does it? After learning his name, I lost some of my fear as well and I smiled at him and that seemed to break the ice. It seemed that I reminded him a lot of his sister and his honour did not allow him to rob us anymore. He quickly had our trunks locked and placed back in the carriage.”

  “How nice of him,” Lady Radclyff said pleased.

  Penelope nodded. “I thought so as well. Jimmy is a good man, and he was extremely apologetic of his chosen profession. Why his apology was almost poetic, and I learned he is a tad partial to Wordsworth and Byron. He is quite the thing …”

  “A well-read highwayman, who would have thought?” the dowager commented.

  “Oh, he absolutely adores books. He plans to retire when he has enough money and furnish his library with hundreds of books. He has already started a collection by stealing all he can find off lords and such. A truly bang up fellow. He was absolutely marvellous, even helping to put Mary and my uncle at ease. He insisted on accompanying me all the way to London to ensure my security. He wanted to make sure his rival the Cobra didn’t halt our carriage and steal our things. Apparently the Cobra has no honour.”

  “The Cobra
?” Lady Radclyff asked horrified.

  “Yes, he is new at the job, hasn’t learnt the nuances of highway robbery yet. Jimmy said the man has a cruel streak and I should warn all my friends of his presence. His territory is Wikhinshire and thereabouts. Jimmy was true to his word. He came with us all the way and told us some remarkable stories throughout our drive to London. It was highly entertaining and cheered me right up. I don’t think he was bamming me.”

  “Oh, do tell us one of the stories, Miss Fairweather. The whole thing sounds positively romantic,” Lady Radclyff pleaded.

  Penelope smiled and said thoughtfully, “Let me think … Ah yes, this is a good one. He told me that one time he stopped the carriage of an earl. He didn’t tell me the earl’s name … wanted to protect the privacy of his victim. He is, after all, an honourable robber. Anyhow, this earl was ancient with white hair, sideburns and knobby knees. Jimmy most respectfully searched through the old man’s belongings, but try as he might, he could not find anything in his trunks or in his coat pockets. But Jimmy is a very intelligent man. He knew something was up. The man was hiding something of great value and was twitching most suspiciously. He searched and searched, and sure enough he spotted a diamond pasted in the earl’s ear.”

  “In his ear?” Lady Radclyff enquired doubtfully.

  “Yes, in his ear. You know this bit where your ears curve. The top bit … right here,” Penelope said, tracing Lady Radclyff’s left ear to demonstrate.

  “How can you stick anything in there, it’s so small,” the dowager asked, poking around in her own ear.

  “Maybe because you are a woman. Men have larger ears … Ah, here is a man,” Penelope said staring at the door which had just opened. She got up and approached the gentlemen who had entered the room.

  “Can you please lend me your ear?” she asked politely.

  “Excuse me?” the man said in confusion.

  Penelope impatiently reached up on her tippy toes and taking hold of his ear tugged firmly.

  The man didn’t have a choice but to stoop.

  “Oh, bend a bit … My goodness you are tall … A bit more … Ah yes, see his ear is a fine specimen, large enough to demonstrate. See this shell here. One can easily stick a diamond in here and no one would know.”

  She turned to smile triumphantly at the ladies present who were looking at her with shock and horror etched on their faces. Her smile fell and she turned to survey the man whose ear she was currently holding.

  He was bent over from the waist wincing, since she still held his ear. Yet In spite of his awkward position, she couldn’t help but notice how terribly handsome he was. His face was a little harsh, while his eyes were a deep dark blue, almost piercing in their intensity. His hair was jet black, and he was so close that she could see the individual hairs of his fine stubble. She took a delicate sniff and the masculine scent hit her right in the pit of her stomach.

  Her heart thundered in her ribs. She had a feeling that the man was not a butler as she had first assumed.

  She had also started feeling a tad dizzy.

  “Can I have my ear back?” he asked irritably.

  She blinked.

  “Mother, can you tell this creature here to loosen her hold?”

  “Mother?” she squeaked. The hand holding the ear trembled.

  “Yes, my dear. You see, this is my son, the Duke of Blackthorne,” the dowager said faintly.

  Chapter 3

  The Duke of Blackthorne, Charles Cornelius Radclyff, was famous as all the dukes, viscounts, marquises and members of the royal family are bound to be. But he was especially famous because he was mysterious.

  The various lords, ladies, maids, fisherwomen … Basically the whole of Britain considered it their duty to gossip about the aristocracy as if it was their birth right. The Viscount of Warwick— the stablehand assured his gaping fourth cousin’s children— was like a lion and currently warming the bed of the famous Venetian opera singer, appropriately named, ‘The Kitten’. The delicate Countess of York was cursed— the shopkeeper assured his customers— for she bought shaving cream every fortnight to shave of her thick wiry beard every morning.

  Now, the Duke of Blackthorne annoyed these well intentioned folks. Oh, everyone knew he was grim, powerful and wealthy enough to rival the maharajas, but apart from that they knew diddly-squat. This irked the women all the more because he was devilishly handsome, unattached, sporting the right number of toes and fingers, with not a limp and nary a flaw. It was their right to learn his past, dissect his personality and gossip about his latest attachments.

  He might have confided his deepest, darkest secrets had someone enquired, but of course no one dared to ask him.

  Penelope now stood holding the same dark, brooding and very powerful duke’s ear. She had seen the inside of his ear, which she learnt was squeaky clean. The ladies of the ton would be jealous. She now knew more about him than they did.

  It would have been ideal if she let go of his ear right about now. She didn’t because for some reason her brain refused to let her release him. She didn’t want to face what happened once she did give him his ear back. She emitted a sound, a cross between a whimper and a squeak.

  The duke, tired of waiting for her to act, took her wrist and extricated himself.

  “Who in the world is this, Anne?” he asked his sister, gesturing towards Penelope in disgust.

  “Err … you recall Mamma told you that Mrs Fairweather’s daughter was coming to visit us for the season? This is she. I mean, this is Miss Fairweather,” Lady Radclyff replied in distress.

  “Indeed,” he said coldly, his eyes examining her from top to bottom.

  Penelope knew what he saw, an unremarkable girl with dull brown hair and brown eyes. Her dress, which was also unfortunately brown, had pink flowers embroidered all over. She was conscious of the mud stains and a few large damp patches from the rain.

  The Falcon had been delighted with her dress, remarking that it exactly matched his curtains at home. She didn’t think the duke found her dress delightful.

  In fact, he was looking at her as if she was a particularly hideous rodent.

  “Mother, how in the world will you present this … this thing to society? She obviously lacks manners and has no looks to speak of. Does she at least have a good dowry?”

  “Charles! How can you?” the dowager said indignantly.

  “She grabbed my ear and then refused to let go. How is that ladylike? I doubt she has ever met a duke in her life. From the state of her dress, I am convinced that she is not only a clodhopper but she is also impoverished. Mother, send her packing, she will never catch a man.”

  “That’s enough, Charles,” the dowager snapped.

  Penelope stood staring at the duke in shock. He was horrible, she thought, glaring at him.

  It was true she didn’t have a dowry. Her father was landed gentry, and the only connection they had with the aristocracy was her dead mother’s cousin twice removed, who was third in line for an impoverished kingdom. That cousin was now … also dead. They made just enough money to live comfortably but not luxuriously. It was why the dowager had insisted that she pay for her season in London.

  Still, the duke had no right to speak about her so disdainfully. Her face flushed in embarrassment. He had made her feel like an unwanted charity case. She blinked rapidly to dispel angry tears and then took a deep breath. She would not let this man, duke or not, make her feel so awful. She had, after all, faced the Falcon.

  According to Della, her cook back home, a lady’s best defence is her modesty, cheerfulness and an elegant countenance when faced with a brute. Della had managed to vanquish the crude butcher, who used to trick his customers by packing more bones than meat, with politeness. The butcher was now on board a ship to India in search of spiritual guidance.

  Therefore, Penelope squared her shoulders, grabbed her skirt and dipped low in an awkward curtsy.

  “I apologise, your grace,” she said in a voice that only slightly
shook.

  He stared at her for a moment searching her face for any sign of mockery. Finding none, he gave a brief nod and then turned his back on her.

  “Anne, I wanted a word with you about Lady Hartworth’s ball. I would like to accept ….” He trailed off staring at the corner where Penelope had been originally sitting.

  Lady Radclyff glanced worriedly at her mother, and then attempted to fling out her skirts to hide the spot from the duke’s view.

  “Your skirts can’t hide it. I can still see the thing, Anne,” the duke remarked, staring at the three of them.

  No one dared to reply.

  “I see … I have to state the obvious and ask the question it seems. We are in the Blue Room and, Mother, you seemed to be entertaining a guest for tea. Now, I am confounded and curious to learn as to why you have a goat eating what seems to be a lettuce leaf sitting in that corner by the Chippendale chair.”

  The goat in question looked up from its plate of lettuce sandwiches and baaed.

  “Lady Bathsheba doesn’t like being called a goat …,” Penelope muttered to herself.

  The duke turned to look at Penelope, and her next statement died on her lips.

  “Lady Bathsheba is it?” he asked softly.

  Penelope clutched her skirts and tried to bite her tongue. Her unfortunate habit of babbling when nervous and spewing nonsense reared its ugly head. She avoided his eyes, digging her nails into her palm.

  It was no good.

  She could feel the words bubble up inside her, and she finally gave up the battle and let her tongue have its way, “Well yes, you see we have an aunt called Lady Bathsheba, and my younger sister Janet is very fond of her, and when she left for the Americas, Janet wouldn’t stop crying. I had to do something, and finally I told her that the baby goat was really Lady Bathsheba, who had been transformed by a magician whom she had slighted. Lady Bathsheba is really very gentle and has been my companion for a while. She is used to being around me at all times, and the only time she misbehaves is when someone calls her a G-O-A-T and—”