Page 31 of The Confessions of a Lady
You are a silly, silly woman, Penny Smith.
Because knowing Liam would only lead to liking him. He was so different from the cold, cruel lord she had imagined before he arrived in his Belgrave mansion, but he was also still her enemy. His support of the Vagrancy Act kept her mother in the prison. And the letters she found proved his connection to the Devil’s Sons.
But that was part of the problem. Because outside of those two damning facts, nothing about Liam’s actions hinted at a man capable of such evil. He puzzled her exceedingly.
A maid spent much of her time observing the lords and ladies for whom she worked. During her time in service, Penny discovered it was the little moments that often defined someone as cruel or kind. And in all of Liam’s little moments, she found no evidence matching that of a cold, calculated trafficker of women.
Molly – the laundry maid and Penny’s roommate – told her about dropping a waistcoat in the dirt as she was pulling down laundry from the line. Liam must have been returning from the stables when her blunder occurred. A fine blue silk waistcoat with gold thread. Instead of ignoring the girl, or yelling at her as many lords might, he bent down and picked up waistcoat. Molly said he shook it out and said it looked clean enough for him. When he placed it in her basket, the girl almost burst into tears, she was that grateful.
Penny was standing next to Mrs Harding in the dining room the morning Liam told his housekeeper of the masque he intended to throw. When she enquired about the timeline and Liam told her it was to be the next week, the astute woman hadn’t hidden her apprehension quickly enough. It was a prodigious amount of work to be completed with such a fast-approaching deadline. He put a hand on Mrs Harding’s arm and reassured her that whatever she did would be perfect. The hardened housekeeper had actually blushed like a young girl in braids. Blushed!
In a most astounding act, Coggins had informed the entire staff during supper the night after Penny’s fateful meeting in the library that a tutor would be provided for all staff wanting to improve their education. He would be available once a week during the supper hour in the conservatory. The servants could take their meal there and spend an hour studying if they wished. By the curl of Coggins’ lip and his clipped words, it was clear the man thought the idea stupid, but Molly and Penny had both determined to meet in the conservatory on the following Thursday, and they weren’t alone. Penny guessed Coggins would be eating by himself every week. That, at least, would please the man.
To think, I might actually learn to read.
Penny couldn’t fathom the idea. Nor could she admit she might be the cause of such a generous offer.
How could a man so willing to help those beneath him in status and power be guilty of horrendous crimes against servant girls?
It made no sense. It also made it nearly impossible for Penny to fight her attraction to the marquess.
Pocketing the other two apples next to her brass knuckles, Penny stood, brushed out her skirts, buttoned her thin coat tightly against the miserable weather and struck out in thedirection of Belgrave Square. Not having enough coin for a return ride home on the omnibus, she had a long walk. Penny gauged the black storm clouds. It hadn’t started raining yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Minutes or moments. She started walking southwest. She didn’t notice the two men emerging from an alley to follow her. One of them still had blood on his face from a recently broken nose.
Liam stared out of the brougham window, grateful he chose not to ride his horse to the coffee house. The mercurial spring weather which seemed rather pleasant only a few hours earlier unleashed a torrent of rain and wind, turning the late morning dark and dreary. His errant thoughts wandered to Miss Smith. When she had left his house so early in the morning, she wore only a thin coat and some ridiculously beaten-up straw hat. Hardly clothing to keep a person warm and dry in such horrendous weather. Not that it mattered. But Liam shifted uncomfortably on the velvet seats, the blanket next to him mocking his imaginings of a cold, shivering Miss Smith.
Oh, the ways he could warm her pale skin until it glowed rosy and pink. With his mouth. His hands. His body.
Liam cursed his hardening cock. ‘She is not for me. She does notwantme.’
But even as he spoke the words aloud, his mind replayed the way her body had melted into him when he drew her close in the library, the echo of his piano’s song hanging in the air like mist. Her lips parting ever so slightly, welcoming him into her depths. It was Liam who pulled away that fateful night. Not Miss Smith. She might not like him, but she was drawn to Liam with thesame powerful force tugging his thoughts toward her. Would he retreat now if he was given the same opportunity?
Not bloody likely.
So it was good there was no chance of him finding himself alone with Miss Smith. They both seemed intent on avoiding each other.
The brougham slowed as traffic became glutted from rutted roads. Liam leaned against the squabs and exhaled, willing his body to relent. The figure of a woman caught his eye through the window, the familiar twitch of her hips causing a corresponding hitch in his breath.
Miss Smith.
Had his thoughts conjured her from the rain and mud? Or perhaps he was transposing Miss Smith’s form onto a different woman.
He caught a glimpse of her profile beneath the brim of her hat. Lips pressed together in a determined line. Cheeks grown pink from the cold wind.
Definitely Miss Smith.
She was hardly a figment of his imagination. What the bloody hell was his maid doing in such a rough part of London and so far from Belgrave Square? As Liam narrowed his eyes, his focus solely on the compact woman striding down the sodden street, he almost missed the two men lurking close behind her. Until one of them reached out and grabbed Miss Smith’s arm, tugging her roughly out of view and down a narrow, darkened alley. The second man looked both ways before following his crony, confident no one noticed.
He was wrong.
Liam fucking noticed.
The brougham lurched to a near stop as the carriage in front of them hit a rut so deep, the wheel almost cracked.
Liam opened the door and leaped out.
‘Sir!’ His startled driver’s cry was stolen by the gust of wind. Running back toward the alley, Liam’s feet beat a hasty rhythm matching that of his heart.
Penny, Penny, Penny!
