When they arrived at Harry's gathering, cards certainly signified. At least forty guests imbibed wine and supped on delectable morsels in the lush Russell Square townhouse. If Harry's elderly aunts weren't avid Faro players, the entire scene could be considered unseemly, but with the older chaperones partic.i.p.ating in the gambling games, no one could turn an accusatory eye in Harold's direction in reference to etiquette.

Phineas introduced Penelope to as many of his acquaintances as possible. He towered over her pet.i.te frame, guardian and avid observer, yet her eyes remained clear without the slightest indication of recognition whenever she met someone new. Had she forgotten about her search for the unknown man? Had his kisses driven it from her memory?

Despite the threat of parlor games, they settled in a corner near Devlin and Lexi, intent on enjoying the evening. A few words were exchanged and then Lexi looped arms with Penny and whisked her away before Phin had the opportunity for a lasting look.

He frowned and cast his eyes from one side of the room to the other. Harry's party proved just the thing. The guests appeared in high ropes. Julia would have enjoyed such a carefree night of amus.e.m.e.nt. He vowed to settle all issues with Daniel Winton and convince his sister to return home. The notion prompted his question to Devlin.

"Were you able to discover anything further concerning Winton? I know of only a wager to be resolved in the next few weeks. I otherwise have no way to find the man." He spoke in a low tone, his friend close enough to discuss his concern without the likelihood of being overheard.

"We need to discuss the matter. I a.s.sumed here would not be the place." Devlin nodded to a pa.s.serby in greeting, waiting for Phin's permission to proceed.

"This may be as good a place as any. It is unfair that Julia need leave during the season when Winton should be run out for his lack of decorum." Disapproval for the man tainted his words.

"Precisely, and you're not going to like what I have to tell." Devlin hesitated.

"Go on." He barked the order before continuing in a lower tone. "You may as well tell me the worst of it."

"Winton is currently on his wedding trip. His grandfather threatened to disinherit him. The old b.a.s.t.a.r.d arranged his marriage years ago without Winton's knowledge. When faced with his grandfather's ultimatum, he made a feeble attempt to ama.s.s his own fortune, but with four sisters to see married, he held little hope of accomplishing his goal. I'm reluctant to admit while all accounts confirm Winton cared for Julia, his affection for money won his heart in the end. Apparently the thought of living purse-pinched with a lady of his own choosing was not an option Winton would entertain so he bent to his grandfather's wishes."

Phineas considered the news. Julia was better off without the malodorous man though revealing the information to his sister would be extremely unpleasant. Julia struggled with insecurities. This new development would do little to banish her demons. As he digested the revelation, he realized it confirmed what Arlis Ridley had suggested only a few nights earlier. How the newcomer had come by such accurate information was disconcerting.

His displeasure evident, Phin dismissed the topic. "I understand his responsibilities, but it does not exonerate his behavior." He would send Julia a note in the morning explaining the unwelcomed bit of news.

Harold and Con joined them soon after and the small corner where he hoped to continue his quiet discussion grew considerably smaller. He sidestepped to allow his friends ample room, but then reconsidered and changed position so he could keep a close eye on Penelope's whereabouts.

"As loathe as you are to play at parlor games, I'm surprised to find you in attendance." Phin pa.s.sed a gla.s.s of brandy to Devlin as the footman could not reach each of the four men without tilting his tray and causing a spill.

Devlin nodded his head in appreciation of the drink. "Lexi set her heart on it, and I can't say I mind the evening overmuch. You have incorrectly concluded since we've had a child, Lexi and I no longer wish to mingle in society. While I could never admit to enjoying the celebratory status Con sustains, a night amongst friends now and again is tolerable."

Devlin had barely finished his last syllable before Harold objected.

"Tolerable? You make this evening sound as if it's punishment." Harry signaled a pa.s.sing footman and instructed the servant to return with the silver bowl from atop the grand chiffonier in the entryway. "I plan on enjoying myself. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to collect names for the charades tournament." Without sparing a glance, Harry followed the footman at a brisk pace.

Phin's expression mirrored his abject revulsion upon hearing the word charades. Stifling a chuckle, Con swiftly changed the subject. "Not my favored pastime either, but while we're here we may as well enjoy ourselves. It would appear everyone else is." Con surveyed the room with a quick sweep of his eyes. "Perhaps I should have feigned a bout of pregnancy sickness in kind to Isabelle's and stayed at home, yet she would not hear of it and accused me of hovering." He huffed an annoyed breath with the admission. "At least Harry proved smart enough not to invite that mutton-headed Ridley into his home."

Phineas noticed the ladies making their way toward the corner. His temper eased. Funny, how one glance in Penny's direction usually set his mood to rights. With languorous ambition, he a.s.sessed the lovely smile gracing her face and then moved his eyes downward, stalling on her perfectly sized bosom. He fisted his hands to keep them at his sides.

Con tapped him on the arm, interrupting his pleasurable daydreams as a silver bowl was thrust in his direction along with a short pencil and several pieces of ivory foolscap.

"Here you go."

Constantine's words danced with mirth and he released the bowl so quickly, Phineas almost dropped it. He glared at his friends, not bothering to ask if they'd written their names on the sc.r.a.ps of paper, folded and tossed into the bowl for teams during the schedule of games Harry arranged with enthusiasm.

Devlin stifled a chuckle. Suspicious, Phineas opened his mouth to question why both friends viewed him with humor, but the ladies returned and he forgot what he meant to say as soon as his arm rubbed against Penelope's shoulder. She looked absolutely enchanting this evening. Her eyes never left the parlor, viewing each guest as they walked past. The unpleasant realization she sought so eagerly to find her beau and hardly spared him a glance prompted a return to Con's earlier remark.

"Ridley has caused me nothing but unease and aggravation. London will be a better place when the disrespecting blackguard takes his leave. He's a scourge on good society."

Penelope snapped her eyes to his. "Oh, the man sounds dreadful."

Devlin shot him a pointed glare. "Not in front of the ladies. I wouldn't want anyone to worry."

He apologized, noting Penelope's shudder. She appeared pale, and even though she recovered her jovial countenance soon after, he cursed himself for speaking so callously. He'd grown tired of hearing reports of Ridley's iniquitous behavior. Something needed to be done about the situation, but tonight was not an evening designed for problem solving.

As if sensing his mental musings, Harold called the guests to order from where he stood at the mantel clutching the silver bowl filled with names.

He instructed the ladies to choose a paper slip from the bowl. The gentleman's name written upon it would be their partner for a series of games beginning at midnight. Phineas exhaled a huff of impatience. He hoped Penny didn't wish to stay for the schedule's entirety. He had somewhere else he needed to be.

He viewed her in front of the room standing in line with the other ladies and smiled at her loveliness. Surrounded by several women who prided themselves on being the height of fashion, Penelope appeared undeniably pristine and alluring. However would he let her go when the time came to say goodbye? However would he forget their kisses? The intrusive thought chased his smile away and he cursed out loud.

"Is something amiss?"

He pivoted to face Devlin, his friend's attention focused on the front of the room. The ladies began to pa.s.s the silver bowl and draw names. When he did not reply, Devlin continued.

"Are you worried you may get paired with Lady Bensly? You know with her hair arranged in that fashion, she no longer resembles a trout."

The remark was intended to bring humor to their conversation, but Phin remained so muddled with his thoughts concerning Winton and Ridley, he hadn't considered Penelope would now be matched with some random stranger for hours of game playing. Away from his side and out of his view. Possibly charmed into distraction. By d.a.m.n, he despised parlor games.

The ladies continued to announce their partners, pair up quickly, and conspire in low whispers about their gaming strategy.

"At least I'm a.s.sured the company of my beautiful wife during the melee." Devlin smiled with wolfish guile.

"What do you mean? How can you possibly be guaranteed to match with Lexi?" Phineas objected and Con turned, equally anxious to hear Devlin's response.

"It was not so hard to achieve, gentlemen." Devlin took a long sip of brandy, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "I simply folded my paper in fours and bent the outward corners down. It's a manner Lexi and I arranged beforehand. If we're to endure a night of parlor games, we mean to enjoy it together."

"That's cheating," Phin muttered with disgust.

"I know. What's your point?" Devlin's expression sounded anything but deprecatory and worse, Con laughed at Phin's stricken reaction.

Phin swallowed further objection, acknowledging his friend's sharp perception of the evening's droll entertainment and keen intelligence to prepare ahead of time. On the other hand, he held such a profound respect for the principles structuring his personal code of conduct he would never have chosen to cheat even if the notion occurred to him. All things considered, the alternative offered a dismal resolution.

Two ladies waited to draw slips before Penelope took her turn, the line extending for at least ten more partic.i.p.ants. She could choose any name from the bowl. With a look of tolerant anger, he viewed the men left unmatched. Harold was one of them and d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l, Harold already shared a dance with Penelope. That night he'd needed to leave the ballroom to ensure he didn't introduce his friend to his fist. Harold was actively pursuing a wife. At times it was d.a.m.ned infuriating.

Penelope walked to the silver bowl and his attention sharpened. Harold made a grand show of looking in their direction. Phin sent him daggers in return. His heart thudded in his chest and he cursed at his own foolishness in allowing his emotions and the evening to get away from him.

She opened the sc.r.a.p and turned toward the room, pausing for no apparent reason as she stared at the paper. She took several breaths, an unreadable expression upon her face.

Phin took a small step forward, clenching his drink as Penelope spoke.

"Viscount Fenhurst."

Surprised to hear his name announced, he almost dropped his brandy when Con slapped him on the back.

"What are the odds? Good fortune smiled upon you this evening. Considering the amount of gentlemen in attendance, it's incredibly good luck Penelope chose your name. The odds must be forty to one."

"More like an impossibility," he muttered, surprise and appreciation clouding his thoughts. Perhaps the evening would not be a total disappointment.

"Not an impossibility," Devlin joined with a chuckle. "Penny announced your name."

Phin turned to face his friends, a flick of his fingertips revealing the sc.r.a.p of foolscap he'd tucked into his waistcoat pocket earlier. "No. An impossibility without a doubt. I never put my name in that blasted bowl."

He didn't wait to hear their remarks. He was needed at the front of the room as a midnight round of charades held an all new appeal. Uncanny, how the evening could turn around so swiftly. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand and winked at her clever maneuver, much to her delight.

Chapter Fifteen.

Penelope adjusted the skirt of her muslin day gown a second time and attempted a smile. She reclined in the salon with Lady Fenhurst ready to accept callers although she did not feel well. Dark smudges showed beneath her eyes revealing the evidence of a night spent tossing and turning, her tumultuous emotions torn between the exhilarating remembrance of Phin's kiss and her dire responsibility to find Simon. No matter how often she told herself to stop considering Phineas in romantic terms, her stubborn heart remained deaf to the instruction.

And too, all through the ridiculous schedule of parlor games last evening, he was outright charming and breathtakingly handsome. How could she not want to spend every waking minute with him? Would everything begin to unravel like the first time she dared risk emotion on a man's affection?

"Mon dieu, what has you so discomposed? You haven't spoken a word this morning." Lady Fenhurst moved from the windows and sat on the end of a chaise near the fireplace. She reached for Penelope's hand and nodded her head, her eyes soft with concern. "What troubles you, dear? You're not yourself. Are you unwell? Shall I have Jenkins summon the physician?"

"Forgive me. I'm merely tired. I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to late-night functions and the whirlwind of responsibilities of such gatherings. I met dozens of people last night, but not the one individual I seek. I'm beginning to think it is hopeless." She forced another tight smile.

"Au contraire. You've experienced a rich evening and feel overwhelmed, that is all. I would never have expected Lady Livingston to visit before calling hours, but it is her way. She's eccentric and at times unexpected, but she's also a dear friend who knows everyone who moves within the ton. I thought it important you meet so she may a.s.sist in locating the gentleman you wish to find." Lady Fenhurst's face displayed true maternal concern.

"Oh, yes. I do wish to meet her. Please don't think otherwise. I am fine." She managed a stronger expression in hope of dispelling any worry although her heart ached. If only she could locate Simon and recover her mother's cameo. She doubted he would return all the funds he'd stolen, but if he'd relent concerning that one piece of jewelry, she would not complain. That is, if he'd held onto the jeweled piece. A lick of despair threatened tears. It meant so much to her. As time dragged on, the chances of finding Simon grew more and more dismal.

"I understand. I too had much on my mind as I returned from my social call last evening. Some dreadful gossipmonger mentioned seeing Phineas embraced in a servant's alcove with an unknown woman. Quelle horreur! My son would never do such a thing. I raised him to be the cut of decorum and he always behaves with savoir faire. Detestable gossip, it will mar his reputation."

Penelope reached for her teacup as Lady Fenhurst's dramatic comments buoyed her disposition. If only she knew they considered the same incident, albeit for different reasons. She took a sip of tea, but didn't taste it. As she replaced her cup, Jenkins entered the room to announce a visitor.

"My lady, Lady Livingston has arrived."

Penelope thought she detected Jenkins' usual reserve discomfited. Lady Fenhurst bade him to bring in their guest and they were soon seated with fresh tea all round.

Dorothy Livingston proved true to description and at the least, eccentric. As a woman of advanced age, she wore the most current fashion, though something about her display appeared misplaced. She leaned heavily on a black cane with an ivory k.n.o.b fashioned in the head of a panther, the ruby jewel-set eyes beyond compare. Her hair, adorned with a feathered plume in a deep teal color, blended with the grey streaked auburn of her coif. Several gold hairpins littered the back of her head, as if they'd been thrust in to contain the natural overflow. Her gown, made of the finest silk, gathered high at the waist where it met a daring neckline, all secured with a large ornate brooch and a collection of elaborate pins holding a lace fichu in place. Penelope stifled an amused gasp at the venturesome appearance she portrayed.

On Lady Fenhurst's direction, Jenkins rolled Mon Ami's cage forward. Now accustomed to the parrot's sudden squawks and unexpected comments, Penelope viewed the room with a wry little smile. The scene made for a rather outlandish tea party, most especially as the Countess fussed over the bird, cooing affectionately and feeding it nuts. Before Penny could consider it further, Lady Livingston's silk glove touched her arm.

"Accompany me for a turn around the room, dear. My legs ache from the long carriage ride through Mayfair." Lady Livingston didn't wait for a reply. "Besides, Victoria is too enamored with her silly pet right now to pay me attention. She misses her daughter terribly. I'm sure she's enraptured to have not one but two females to dote over, spoil and accompany about. You are doing her a great service, as much as you a.s.sert she's a.s.sisting you."

Lady Livingston reached the room's perimeter, her heeled slippers offsetting the dull thump of her cane as she moved at a leisurely pace. Penelope fell in step beside her, offering the endearing woman a heartfelt smile. Lady Livingston possessed a likeability that easily explained her popularity among the ton. Reaching for her arm with a gentle grasp, the two began to circle the room.

"If she fussed over her husband the way she attends to that bird, they'd have a much richer marriage." Lady Livingston spoke softly, even though no one could hear the cheeky comment.

Penelope stifled her unexpected laughter. Lady Livingston was proving to be as full of surprises as her outlandish dress. "Oh, I haven't met the earl. He's not been in house since my arrival."

"Oh, you won't likely meet him either. He travels for months at a time. When at last he concludes he should visit home, you will be well and married." Then her voice rose as if to supply a piece of innocuous conversation within everyone's hearing range. "Victoria tells me you're looking for a man. Well, aren't we all?"

Unsure if the question required an answer, Penelope remained silent. Instead she focused on the older woman's diamond jewelry where she clasped tightly to her arm. There were easily three ornate rings on each hand, one more extravagant than the other, and a smart collection of bangles too, one adorned with a ruby ladybug.

Lady Fenhurst, who had been listening to the conversation, chose to interject, her attention drawn from Mon Ami.

"Not any man, Dottie."

Penelope grinned. How appropriate that this flamboyant woman go by such a gregarious moniker.

"Penelope is looking for someone in particular. We thought with your extensive knowledge of the ton you were the veritable resource we needed to locate the man. And after we settle this matter, I hope you'll a.s.sist me with my next visitor." Lady Fenhurst's eyes followed them as they continued to advance around the perimeter. "I'm consorting to arrange a match for Phineas. He will never know what hits him when he sees the lovely dove I've secured."

Victoria Betcham delivered her words without taking a breath, confirming she had one solitary mission to see her son married. A rush of nervousness caused Penelope's stomach to twist.

Dorothy leaned a bit closer and offered another conspiratorial whisper. "I a.s.sumed Phineas preferred a different type of bird altogether."

The older woman patted her hand where it lay on her arm and Penny matched her eyes with prompt attention. She knew Phineas was a full-blooded male to the heart. It would appear Lady Fenhurst's desire to see her son as a paragon of virtue left an alternative impression with some members of the ton. The misunderstanding made Penelope quick to defend him.

"Oh no, I'm positive that's not true." Penelope flushed at hearing the conviction in her tone, her face immediately heated.

"Good for you, my dear." Dorothy eyed her, drawing fast conclusions. "Now tell me about this other gentleman, the one you seek so I may a.s.sist you. Victoria speaks the truth. I have been alive long enough to be acquainted with everyone seeking notoriety and all other miscreants in between."

Having circled the room twice, they moved to the sitting area ready to give the conversation their full attention.

Dorothy took a sip of tea, then replaced her cup in the saucer and adjusted her bodice, the weight of an emerald brooch pulling the fabric out of form. "Let's get down to business. Tell me about this man you seek."

"Well, he's a liar and a thief..." Penelope stopped herself mid-thought. "I apologize, Lady Livingston. I should not have said those things about Simon." Again, blood rushed to her cheeks in embarra.s.sment.

"Never mind dear, and please call me Dottie. All men say pretty things and steal our hearts making your description fairly accurate in my perception. What brings you here to find this man? Has he wronged you or are you simply chasing him because you fancy yourself in love? I'm not sure I approve of this match. Anyone would be foolish beyond permission to abandon such a beautiful lady as yourself."

Victoria stood abruptly. "How true. Let me find our copy of the social register. Julia keeps it somewhere in this salon. Perhaps on the writing desk." She continued in a vehement tone, her words trailing after her as she crossed the room, "If only all gentlemen would practice impeccable manners. Phineas would never take advantage of a lady."

"If you ask me, there lies the problem," Dorothy mused in a near whisper.

Penelope looked down at her hands to hide her smile. "Lady Fenhurst may not know her son as fully as she believes," she answered sotto voce, amused by their conversation within the conversation.

Dorothy caught her eye and winked with approval. "Now things are getting interesting."

The old woman drew back and adjusted the sagging bodice of her gown, but the weight of the jeweled brooch caused the material to droop as soon as her fingers released it. Penelope followed the action and awareness caused her breath to catch.

"Lady Livingston, I mean Dottie," she corrected in a flurry of words, "your cameo brooch resembles a piece of jewelry my mother favored. I understand it came from a small collection created by an Italian artisan. I've never seen another piece with so many similarities."

Dorothy glanced to the pin at her bodice. "You must be mistaken. This is a rare piece by Dilgano. Look at the translucent agate intaglio and delicate features of the cameo face. The workmanship is unmatched."

Dorothy removed the pin with care and held it flat in her palm. The filigree work of the gold frame looked identical to the cameo Penelope once owned. The woman's face, carved intricately into the delicate sh.e.l.l appeared the same in every detail, an exact replica of her mother's cameo. Had the intaglio been green agate instead of blue, she would have sworn Lady Livingston held her mother's missing brooch, the same one with which Simon absconded. Dorothy seemed reluctant to place the brooch into her extended hand, but more the pity she would have liked to examine it closely.

"There were only five brooches created before the artisan died." Dorothy's eyes clouded with emotion. "The romantic story tells how Dilgano sought to create a masterpiece beyond compare to win the affection of his beloved. As is the case with many artists, he remained plagued by his desire for perfection wanting the woman of his heart to possess his finest work. Dissatisfied with his creations, he completed five cameos before discovering the lady he admired had married another. He never gave her the gift that obsessed him. It is said he died of a broken heart soon after.

"Regardless of Dilgano's faults, his workmanship is flawless. The five brooches are priceless and highly regarded. No one could possess one without knowing the history and its worth. You must be confused. To own a Dilgano would secure one's elevated position forever and guarantee wealth without a doubt." Dorothy replaced the pin and patted Penelope's knee in rea.s.surance.

Penelope remained silent. Dorothy's story presented another riddle to solve. Could her mother have owned such a valuable brooch and not known the worth? Or not told her father? Rather unlikely, considering her father's undeniable desire to elevate their station, that he would possess such a priceless piece of jewelry and not use it to its full advantage nor tell Penelope or Aubry during his decline. Questions whirled through her mind. Each possibility presented new queries, equally confusing. Dottie must have misconstrued her thoughtful silence as reticence.

"You realize now you are mistaken. I understand. It is an alluring piece of jewelry," Dorothy replied, her tone a mixture of compa.s.sion and kindness.

But Penny did not need rea.s.surance, positive her mother's cameo matched the piece made by Dilgano.