Page 52 of A Gentleman's Wager
She turned it speculatively in her palm. Here surely was something she could use, but without knowing the history, or his sentimental attachment to the object, she’d be relying on heavy guess work, and Pennerley was astute enough to see through any sort of hedging. Also, knowing there was a woman in his past was hardly a revelation. There were probably tens, if not hundreds. Nevertheless, knowing he held enough affection for one of them to sleep with a memento under his pillow might come in useful. She doubted he’d want anyone to know. That would hardly fit with his image as an abominable rake.
Bella ears pricked at the sound of voices in the courtyard outside. The gentlemen were back. Hellfire and damnation! If this wasn’t the worst room to get caught in. She rubbed the locket on her dress to remove her finger-marks, then pushed it back beneath the pillow, and smoothed the eiderdown.
Thankfully, the corridor remained clear when she poked her head around the doorframe. Bella lifted her skirts and sprinted the length of the long gallery. She paused at the far end. Composed herself, then walked calmly into the upstairs parlour and sat down as if she’d been there all afternoon.
Charles tumbled through the door first, followed by Pennerley and then Lucerne.
“No Miss Stanley?” the latter enquired.
Bella shook her head. She reneged from offering an explanation. Lucerne could surely discern the most likely reason well enough for himself.
“Then we must endeavour to entertain you this evening.”
“Not charades,” Charles complained. He sank into the remaining fireside chair. “Most parlour games are interminable, don’t you find, Pennerley?”
“Depends on the game and the company.” The marquis’s gaze alighted on Lucerne as he spoke, before casting a wider arc. “I’m sure some notion or other will present itself.”
“Poetry writing,” Charles declared. His eyes bulged when his suggestion wasn’t instantly seconded. “It’s very popular among the free lovers—”
“The what?” Bella enquired.
“Definitely not.” Lucerne slashed a hand through the air while staring at Charles. “That’s entirely inappropriate for our current company. I promised Rushdale we would be civilized. Every poem you have ever loved, Charles, has been military and grotesque in nature or else insufferably crude. Neither are welcomed in this instance.”
“Pah! She’s a country lass, and no doubt acquainted with many a colourful ditty. Ain’t that right, Bella? We don’t cosset our women the way you do in the city, Marlinscar. Rushdale wouldn’t think a thing of us sharing a few bawdy words. And Miss Stanley is—”
“Country born too,” Bella said. Had he said free lovers? What the devil did that mean?
“And yet, we will refrain from doing so and find some other pursuit with which we may pass a few hours.” Lucerne decreed. He crossed to the side-table and rang for a servant.
Bella could think of one or two possibilities, all of which she was sure Lucerne would reject immediately if she said them aloud in their current company. If whispered quietly into his ear, then hopefully they would garner a different response. She did hope this newfound sense of propriety of his didn’t extend to any private parlances they might arrange else she might have to ride to Richmond and drag her brother back.
A footman entered. “You’ll send Ivo to my quarters,” Lucerne said. “I wish to change.”
Charles turned within the chair. “It’s a little early for that ain’t it, Marlinscar. Dinner’s a way off yet.”
“Do you mean supper?” Bella asked purely to be pedantic.
Charles scowled at her.
“I’m sorry that the notion of my desire for cleanliness offends you, Charles. I have stomped across half of Yorkshire according to your earlier words, now I wish to remove said countryside from my person.”
“I shall do the same.” Vaughan followed Lucerne from the room. Their rooms lay in opposite directions, but Bella could have sworn they turned the same way.
After a moment of wriggling and snuffling, Charles removed Louisa’s embroidery bag from behind his back. “I suppose Miss Stanley is still waxing pale over the captain’s departure?”
“Their hearts are bound,” Bella replied.
Rather delayed in his reaction, Charles made a loud guffaw. “All this pining seems a waste to me. Why not just have the banns read. It’s plain enough the pair of them want to—” He pursed his lips. “Well, you know. Maintaining my decorum and all.”
“He ain’t asked her,” Bella said. “What happened yestereve, Charles? I thought it must be a disagreement between Pennerley and Wakefield, but Joshua said otherwise, as does the evidence on our hosts face.”
“If your brother’s not given you the details, he clearly doesn’t think it a matter for your ears. I’ll not be the one to spill all.” Nevertheless, he leant forward towards her. “I’ll tell you freely, that Pennerley don’t scrap. Swordplay, that’s his thing. And frighteningly good he is at it, and there’s fellows aplenty to attest to it. Also, whatever quarrel there is between Marlinscar and Wakefield, you can bet your pin-money on the fact Pennerley has a hand in it.”
“So, ‘twas the marquis who arranged the prank the other night?”
“The marquis?” He harrumphed inelegantly. Then pointed to himself. “Me. Pennerley indeed. I’m the one who found the girl.”
“What girl?”
