Part 5 (1/2)
”Could you ask around the club for me? I don't want Winton to get wind I'm inquiring of his whereabouts and I can't have Julia's name brought into this.” Phin's tone grew serious.
”I will ask a few questions at White's and see what I can discover. One of the guards in the back told me Winton emptied his pockets numerous times this month. He is fairly deep in the hole and returns often in an attempt to recover his loses.”
The two men exited the h.e.l.l and walked to their horses.
”It doesn't make sense.” Phin hesitated before continuing. ”Winton is well respected and from a good family. He bears responsibility for his four younger sisters, three of whom are marriageable age. I've never heard a single rumor of poor gambling habits attached to his name or I wouldn't have allowed him near Julia.” He exhaled in frustration. ”Inside the h.e.l.l, I was told he's up to his neck in debt. As the oldest of five children and the only male, Winton would be desperate to repay any money owed, wouldn't he? Were he to gain the reputation of being rolled up in dun territory, his sisters would never be able to make a fine match. I have always considered Winton benignant and above reproach.”
For Julia's sake, Phin hoped there was a logical underlying reason for Winton's abrupt dismissal. But what could possibly cause his capricious behavior?
The two men parted and Phin headed home. With each pa.s.sing mile, his frustrations lessened and by the time he reached the townhouse the only thing left gnawing at him was hunger. Famished, the insistent desire led him straight to the kitchen.
Intent on soothing his need with one of Cook's short crust pastries, he moved silently down the hall not wis.h.i.+ng to disturb anyone during the late hour. When he eased himself into the room, he was surprised to see a single candle burning in a holder, its flame a lonely flicker accompanied by the waning light from the kitchen hearth. The warm glow silhouetted Penelope's slim figure where she sat at the wooden table, an empty plate and linen napkin placed before her.
His unexpected entry startled her and as he watched her eyes flare in surprise, he sought to make amends.
”I'm sorry. I did not expect to find anyone awake. Plagued by hunger, I thought to raid the larder.” His eyes fell to the empty plate before her. ”I suppose you did as well?”
She looked up and her delicate brows drew together before she offered him a smile. He returned it in kind. ”I suppose I was lost in thought or I might have heard your approach,” she replied with the barest hint of reflection.
”You know, any servant would be pleased to bring you a tray in your bedchamber had you only rung. Now that you and Aubry are staying here, you should treat my staff as your own.” He stepped closer to the table after finding a plate and utensils in the cupboard. He knew with certainty Cook mentioned preparing rhubarb crumble. If he could locate the pot where she stored the remainder, his stomach would thank him thoroughly.
”Oh, I could never trouble someone, especially at this late hour.” She glanced to the table and placed her fork upon the empty plate. ”Besides, sometimes I don't know what I want until I see it.” She shrugged her shoulders in a beguiling little motion and Phineas noticed the glint of candlelight reflecting against the sheen of her white satin wrapper. It was unseemly for him to be meeting with her in the kitchen at this hour, but by d.a.m.n, it wasn't planned. He simply sought a midnight snack.
”I know exactly what you mean. I came in here determined to find Cook's rhubarb crumble but now realize I may prefer a currant square. I hope one remains.” He took a seat and leaned forward, far too closely by any measure of propriety. ”You have a few crumbs on your cheek.” He raised his hand to indicate where the bits of pastry stuck to the corner of her mouth, but in the same instant her tongue peeked out to remove them. The slick velvet of her tongue against the pad of his thumb sent a shock of awareness through him more powerful than any punch he'd received in the ring. Worse, the intimacy reverberated through his chest and flooded his blood with heated sensation that settled in his groin. Words failed. Motionless for a small eternity, he dropped his hand and moved quickly to the cupboard.
From the corner of his eye he watched Penelope raise her napkin and wipe her mouth. The glow from the hearth made her skin appear creamy and delectable and Phin suddenly realized she was the tastiest morsel in the kitchen. He let out a low, strangled sigh and struggled to keep the mundane conversation flowing.
”So let me see, was it rhubarb crumble or sponge cake this evening? Cook has a wonderful way with pineapple cream and sesame cakes” To discard the unsettling notion, he busied himself rifling through the shelves of the pantry, lifting lids before eyeing Penny seated at the table.
She looked to him through lowered lashes, the edge of her lips curled in the softest smile. ”Actually I finished the last currant square. It tasted so delicious I am thankful only one remained or I might have been tempted to eat another.”
He cleared his throat with purposeful effort. ”Resisting temptation can prove a difficult endeavor.” He reached to clear her plate from the table at the same time she lifted it. Their fingers entwined for the briefest of touches and he heard her short gasp before they matched eyes. Time stretched for several heartbeats until he swallowed with difficulty, desperately searching for something to say.
”Let me take that for you.” He walked to the sideboard and placed the plate and fork aside, all the while his mind spinning with confused emotion. Blast if he wasn't more ravenous now than when he'd entered.
Penelope rose from her chair, hesitation slowing her steps as she moved toward him. ”I should return to my room. I will be terribly tired if I don't get enough rest.” She c.o.c.ked her head and looked up into his eyes as if angling for a peek into his soul. He s.h.i.+fted with discomfort under the scrutiny of her sparkling green gaze. ”Thank you Phineas, and good night.”
Unwittingly reluctant to lose her company, he scrambled for something to say before she left the kitchen.
”Yes, well thank you for the conversation and for eating the last currant square.” Aghast, he desperately wished the words back. Had his brain gone missing? What utter nonsense did he mumble? He attempted some sort of logical rejoinder. ”And sweet dreams, Penelope. You deserve sweet dreams.”
She left and the kitchen grew painfully silent making his groan all the louder in the stillness of the night.
Chapter Eight.
”Jenkins!” Phineas strode into the morning room and stepped through the French doors leading to the garden terrace. ”Jenkins, where are you?” He caught a glimpse of the stoic butler's navy blue uniform, perplexed why the servant did not offer a prompt reply. Understanding dawned as he moved to the slate tiles.
”Good morning.” Phin greeted his mother and offered Jenkins a curt nod in the process. The servant stood in full view, his arms laden with pink roses, while his mother cheerfully snipped the blooms from a nearby bush and piled them higher. The servant would have preferred to do anything else, his tolerant grimace testament to the fact, but the sudden squawk from Mon Ami caged a few paces to the right and the flash of distress mirrored in Jenkins' eyes served as confirmation.
”You might have asked a maid to a.s.sist you this morning instead of humiliating my butler.” Phin sat on the wrought-iron bench and dared not look in Jenkins' direction.
”Oh posh, he doesn't mind and I'm nearly done. Besides, I've sent every available maid upstairs to a.s.sist with the ladies' final fitting. The modiste arrived earlier with a carriage full of designs. Obtaining a new wardrobe is a wonderful way to begin the day, and yet I have further news.” His mother added a final bloom to Jenkins' extended arms and bade him hurry inside to place them in water.
Phin's eyes caught the butler's for an empathetic glance as the servant strode past. He hoped the good man could see the apologetic message intended. Then he wandered to the corner of the terrace, angling a glance to the upstairs windows, as if wis.h.i.+ng alone would cause Penelope to materialize there.
”Today, mon cheri, is a wonderful day.” His mother removed her gardening gloves and took a sip from her teacup.
”Why is that?” He poured himself a cup, anxious to erase the edge of frustration that lingered from the night before. Venturing out to Pall Mall had yielded little. Instead, it had denied him the pleasure of sharing a dance with Penelope. Dedicated as he was to helping Julia, he did not feel so self-sacrificing he didn't mourn the loss of an evening shared in Penny's company. If he were to be forced into the role of guardian, he might as well reap a few benefits. Their unlikely late-night a.s.signation in the kitchen compounded his intrigue. In truth, he couldn't stop thinking about her and he would only have the opportunity temporarily. The uncomfortable thought stalled his fingers as he stirred sugar into his cup. Then he pushed the realization aside and took a long sip, the tea too hot.
”Chef Pierre arrived last night, prepared for artistry in the kitchen. I planned a lovely dinner for the four of us. You will be present, will you not? I was disappointed you left the Pimbles' affair early.”
A fluttering of wings drew his attention to the cage in the alcove, but instead of the usual screeching, the parrot actually articulated words.
”Find a wife. Settle down.”
Good lord, was it possible the blasted beast could understand their conversation? He speared his mother with an unabashed glare of annoyance and watched as she raised her teacup to hide a guilty grin.
”I am happy the ladies' presence has cheered you.” He shook off his frustration. Chef or no chef, sharing time with his little Penny seemed much more the thing. How would he manage to keep her company and also keep his desire in check? The constant reminder she loved another did not do the trick and she was not his little Penny. Yet after their cozy little interlude in the kitchen last night, he could easily imagine her being such. Now where had that ridiculous idea sprung from?
”Tres bien, I have arranged for Aubry to have the best instructors. Watercolors, dancing, pianoforte, etiquette...”
He interrupted his mother's litany in a tone sharper than intended. ”Such a rigorous schedule. Have you discussed your plans with the ladies?”
Victoria stroked the petals of a nearby rose. ”Yes, of course. Penelope and I conversed last evening at the masquerade. I grow impatient with your brief attendance to these events.” She paused to give her words due emphasis. ”Where did you disappear to?” His mother's cheerful countenance transformed into one of displeasure. ”I know you're uncomfortable with this responsibility, but while the ladies are here I depend on your a.s.sistance.”
”My apologies. It is never my intention to cause you discomfort.” He reached for a biscuit and took a large bite, not ready to offer more in way of explanation nor break his promise to Julia.
”Very well, but I expect you to attend dinner this evening. Have I told you how thrilled Chef Pierre is to have your appet.i.te in house?” His mother's demeanor brightened. ”I've asked him to prepare all your favorites and a few specialties as well. Is there anything in particular you wish him to cook?”
”Does he have a recipe for parrot?”
Maman ignored the bon mot. ”It is much like you to retain one of France's most notable chefs here in England.” He paused to finish the biscuit. ”There is no denying how much we will enjoy Pierre's culinary talent.”
”What are you planning to do with your day?”
Phineas cringed. One of the drawbacks of having his overbearing mother residing in house would be her constant interrogation of his whereabouts. The idea of such badgering made his brain twitch. He snaked a finger under his collar to loosen his neck cloth.
”I am visiting Devlin and Lexi this morning.” He walked again to the edge of the terrace, chancing another glance to the upper windows. No one was there.
”Oh, their precious bebe. How I wish for a grandchild of my own.”
He turned and almost collided with Maman, who spun with a grand gesture fully recovered from her malcontent only moments before. She beamed in a way only a hopeful mother could achieve, until her foolish bird interfered.
”Find a wife. Settle down.”
Phineas narrowed his eyes at the creature. ”What is the life expectancy of a parrot? Those delusional outbursts are surely a sign of near death.”