Page 18 of Season of the Scoundrel
The nobleman was younger than Penrose, charming, fine-looking, and unmarried—everything Penrose was not. But the baron’s angelic face did not at all match his devilish reputation.
When Grainger slid his leering focus to Ivy, Ross had the sudden and irrational urge to wrap a hand around the man’s throat.
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting your lovely companion,” Grainger all but purred.
“Oh, I’m not—” Ivy began.
“Grainger,” Ross began, resting his fingers lightly at her elbow, “may I present Miss Ivy Bridewell.”
The rogue reached for her hand. To Ross’s shock, he felt Ivy slide her arm through the crook of his own.
Grainger’s jovial expression cooled a bit. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bridewell.” With that, he nodded at Ross, pivoted on his heel, and approached Penrose.
Ivy immediately slid her arm free of Ross’s. “Forgive me for that.”
“Nothing to forgive.” He’d quite liked the feel of their arms entwined, though of course he couldn’t admit it.
“I fear it gave him the impression that we are…courting.” She glanced up at him. “I simply had the oddest impulse to avoid letting him touch me.”
“An excellent impulse.” Ross tried to ignore how his heart thrummed faster in his chest at the realization that she trustedhimto touch her. “The man is an utter cad.”
“And an associate of Penrose’s,” she murmured, her voice still low enough to keep others from overhearing.
Ross nodded.
“I wonder why I never came upon his name,” she mused.
“He’s careful.”
“Gather around,” Penrose called out brightly. “Gather around, my friends.”
Ross and Ivy moved nearer to the hidden painting. He remained close enough for her to link her arm with his again if she wished to. Some untamable part of him dearly wished she would.
Penrose held up a glass as if to toast his wife, who stood beside him. “Eleanor told me of a painter who’d captured a friend’s likeness beautifully and insisted we have him paint her. As you’ll soon see, Signore Boldoni was worth every penny.”
The Penrose’s butler pulled a tasseled cord and the cloth fell away, revealing a strikingly bold portrait that elevated Lady Penrose from staid noble lady to enticing enchantress. The artist’s swishes and swirls made the canvas feel alive and her ladyship seem almost playful.
“It is quite remarkable,” Ross whispered to Ivy.
That’s when he realized she was no longer at his elbow. Ross searched the gathering, noting that she was not standing next to her sister and brother-in-law either. Indeed, she wasn’t anywhere in the room.
Hellfire.He had a sudden, terrible suspicion what she might be intending.
As the Penroses’ guests applauded and murmured praise, Penrose invited the artist, Giovanni Boldoni, to come up and speak.
Ross took the opportunity to exit the drawing room.
When Ivy had slipped away earlier,she’d made a quick search of the Penrose townhouse and found what she thought to be Penrose’s study.
With all the guests distracted by Lady Penrose’s portrait, she’d slipped out of the drawing room and made her way to that room. The door was ajar and the room was empty, so she stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.
Unfortunately, now she had the problem of the Duke of Blackbourne. He would certainly notice that she wasn’t in the drawing room any longer. He might even suspect that she’d gone to search the Penrose townhouse.
She needed to be quick about this perusal.
Going to Penrose’s enormous mahogany desk, she bent and then began searching the drawers. In the bottom left one, she found a contract for Southwell Shipping Company with offices in Wapping. She also found documents related to a Carnwick Shipping in Southwark. That was one of the viscount’s enterprises that she was aware of. Lord Penrose, Lord Grainger,and a man named Osmond Macallum were all listed as owners. The document was dated only a few months earlier, which explained why the Southwell enterprise wasn’t one she’d learned about when researching Penrose.
At the sound of footsteps in the hall, she carefully shut the drawer and then dashed across the room to the long curtains that pooled on the floor near a corner window. Ivy tucked herself behind the draperies and held still, trying not to make a sound.
