Charles glanced at her, then directed a look of mild inquiry at Arbry. He was a peer in line for a major title, appeared hale and whole, and looked to be about Charles’s age; if Charles should be in London getting himself a bride, so, too, should Arbry.
Arbry hesitated, then said, “I act as my father’s agent-there were aspects of the estate here that needed attention.”
“Ah, yes, there’s always something.” Charles darted a look at Penny. She’d managed the Wallingham Hall estate for years; if there was anything requiring attention, she would know, yet not a hint of anything resembling comprehension showed in her face.
Arbry was frowning. “I vaguely recall…I met your mother and sisters last time I was here. They gave me to understand you would be marrying shortly, that you intended to offer for some lady this Season.”
Charles let his smile broaden. “Very possibly, but unfortunately for all those interested in my private life, duty once again called.”
“Duty?”
The question was too sharp. Arbry definitely wanted to know why he was there. Charles glanced again at Penny, but she was watching Arbry; she wasn’t giving him any clues.
She was protecting someone. Could it be Arbry?
“Indeed.” He met Arbry’s eyes, dropped all pretense. “I’ve been asked to look into the possible traffic of military and diplomatic secrets through smuggling channels hereabouts during the late wars.”
Arbry didn’t blink. Not a single expression showed on his pale face.
Which gave him away just as surely; only someone exercising supreme control would be so unresponsive in the face of such a statement.
Still blank-faced, he said, “I hadn’t realized the…government had any real interest in pursuing the past.”
“As certain arms of the government are controlled by those who fought, or sent others to fight and die over the last decade and more, you may be assured the interest is very real.”
“And they’ve asked you to look into it? I thought you were a major in the Guards?”
“I was.” Charles smiled, deliberately cold, deliberately ruthless. “But I have other strings to my bow.”
Penny glanced around, desperate to break up the exchange of pleasantries. Nicholas might be good, but Charles could be diabolical. She didn’t want him to learn more, guess more, not yet. God only knew what he’d make of it, or how he might react.
Her gaze found Millie and Julia, both with faces alight, hurrying as fast as they decorously could to join her. And the two handsome gentlemen she’d somehow acquired. For quite the first time in her life she thoroughly approved of their blatant curiosity.
“Penelope! We were just coming to join you.” Julia beamed as the three of them turned. “We got held up in the apothecary’s.” She directed her gaze to the gentlemen; Millie did the same. “Lord Arbry, isn’t it?”
Nicholas had met them before; he bowed. “Mrs. Essington. Mrs. Essington.”
Charles turned fully to face them. He was taller than Nicholas; Millie’s and Julia’s gazes rose to his face. They both blinked, then delighted smiles lit their countenances.
“Charles!” Julia all but shrieked. “You’re back!”
“How delightful,” Millie cooed. “I had thought, from what your dear mama let fall, that you were quite fixed in London for the Season.”
Charles smiled, shook their hands, and deflected their questions. Penny heaved a sigh of relief. Now if only Nicholas would grab his chance and escape.
She was turning to nudge him along, when Julia gaily said, “You both
“Oh, yes!” Millie’s eyes shone. “We’ve booked a private parlor-do join us.”
Charles glanced at Penny, then at Nicholas. “Indeed, why not?” His smile as he gazed at Nicholas was distinctly predatory. “What say you, Arbry? I can’t see any reason not to take advantage of such an invitation from such delightful company.”
Millie and Julia preened. They turned shining eyes on Nicholas.
Penny inwardly swore. Nicholas couldn’t do anything but agree.
With Julia, Millie, and Charles providing most of the conversation, the five of them walked the short distance to the Pelican Inn. As the landlord, all delighted gratification, bowed them into his best parlor, Penny hoped Nicholas understood that he was walking into a lion’s den, with a lion with very sharp teeth and even sharper wits beside him.
She was nursing an incipient headache by the time lunch ended. Predictably, Millie and Julia had filled the hour with bright conversation, retelling all the repeatable local gossip for Charles’s edification. He’d encouraged them, leaving him able to direct the occasional unexpected and unpredictable query at Nicholas, not that he’d learned anything from the exercise.
Nicholas was clearly on his guard, his attention focused on Charles, his attitude to everyone as it usually was, reserved and rather standoffish. She’d clung to the cool demeanor she always adopted around him; most put it down to understandable distance over his father’s assumption of her father’s estates.
Little did they know.
As they all rose and together quit the parlor, it occurred to her that, with Charles now present to draw his attention, Nicholas might lower his guard with her. She’d never given him reason to think she suspected him of anything; he had no idea she knew of the questions he’d asked the Wallingham grooms and gardeners, or of his visits to the local smugglers. He certainly didn’t know she’d been following him.
She raised her head as they emerged into the bright sunshine. Charles appeared beside her as she went down the steps into the inn yard. An ostler was holding her mare; she was about to wave him to the mounting block when Charles touched her back.
“I’ll lift you up.”
She would have frozen, stopped dead, simply refused, but he was walking half-behind her; if she stopped, he’d walk into her.
They reached the mare’s side. Charles’s hands were already sliding around her waist as she halted and turned.
Lungs locked, she glanced into his face as he gripped and effortlessly hoisted her up. But he wasn’t even looking at her, much less noticing her embarrassing reaction; his gaze was locked on Nicholas, helping Millie and Julia into their gig.
“How long has he been here?”
Slipping her boot into the stirrup he’d caught and positioned for her, she managed to breathe enough to murmur, “He arrived yesterday.”
That brought Charles’s dark gaze to her face, but an ostler appeared with his horse, and he turned away.
Nicholas had also asked for his horse-one of Granville’s hacks-to be brought out. He, too, mounted. Without actually discussing the matter, the five of them clopped out of the inn yard together, Nicholas riding attentively beside the gig, she and Charles bringing up the rear.
She watched Nicholas’s attempts to be sociable. Millie and Julia were thrilled, their day crowned by being able to claim they’d spent time conversing with
“Has he been spending much time down here?”
Charles’s tone was low, noncommittal.
If she didn’t tell him, he’d ask around and find out anyway. “It’s his fourth visit since July, when he and his father came for Granville’s funeral. The longest he’s stayed is a week in December, but that was their first formal visit as owner, so to speak. He came down alone in February for five days, then turned up yesterday.”
Charles said nothing more, but was aware she was watching her “cousin” with an assessing and cynical eye. He wasn’t surprised Nicholas had joined them on their way home; all through luncheon, he’d shot swift glances at Penny, concerned, yes, but not just in the usual way. There was definitely something between them.
They reached the Essington lane and farewelled Millie and Julia. By unspoken consent, he, Penny, and Nicholas cantered on together.
Until they came to the lane to Wallingham. Nicholas drew up, his chestnut stamping as he half wheeled to face
