“Damn me, Pen, why is it that I always forget my manners when I’m around you?” He had a vague recollection of failing to stand before when she’d entered a room but could not pinpoint exactly when that had been. When she sat down, Hugh got a whiff of her scent and felt a stirring of… something. He’d not noticed Penelope’s scent before. It was clean, not cloying, but pretty.
Penelope looked over at him with wide innocent eyes. Yes, by God, there were blue flecks flickering around in the green.
“Nobody knows I’m here.” She shrugged off his concern. “What we need to do is go through all of this paperwork and put together an accurate set of books.”
“Your maid knows. And what of your parents? Where did you tell Cortland you were heading when you left Summer’s Park?”
“My parents think I’m in Bath, shopping or visiting friends; they don’t really bother to keep track of my whereabouts any longer. I’m nearly thirty, you know!”
“And what of Lilly? Surely, she was curious as to your destination.”
Penelope swiped her hand in the air dismissively. “Lilly and Cortland are so wrapped up in each other and that little marquess that they wouldn’t have cared if I’d said I was leaving for the moon!”
But why had she come here? Was boredom really the reason or could there have been something else? “How long do you plan on staying? The season begins in less than a month, you know.”
If Penelope Crone planned on staying six months, Hugh very seriously doubted he could do anything to change her mind. She was that stubborn.
“Just long enough,” she answered enigmatically. “And lucky for you, might I add.”
This entire appearance of hers was enigmatic, really. For although they’d known each other for years, they hadn’t ever done anything to seek one another out. They were more than acquaintances, yes, but nothing that would warrant her traveling all the way up to Augusta Heights.
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Pen?”
And there it was. She bit her lip and turned away from him.
“You can tell me, Pen. If you’ve done something ill-advised, it doesn’t matter to me. I can help you if you’d like, but I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what the problem is.”
She sat up straight and seemed to shake off her melancholy. “I’m just bored, that’s all, Hugh. I figured you could use a little help. Now, do you want it? My help, that is? Or would you prefer to tackle this decade of neglect alone?” Ah, here was the prickly girl he’d come to know.
Who really was—dare he think it?—smarter than most men.
“Of course, I’d like your help.” Perhaps she was just what he needed right now. If she wished to stay up here and straighten out the mess Periwinkle had created, then so be it. Perhaps he could even get back to London sooner.
He stood up and walked over to the desk and Penelope pulled over one of the high-backed chairs. Without further ado, they began sorting receipts together. He read off the information, and Penelope wrote it all down on a new ledger, creating an accurate account system. Periwinkle’s black book had mysteriously disappeared from the desk two days ago. Working with Penelope, for the first time, he felt he was beginning to see a clear picture of the estate’s circumstances. After what didn’t seem like very long at all, Hugh glanced up at the clock and realized they’d been at work for nearly three hours.
He set down the envelope he’d been about to open and took a moment to study Penelope’s bent over form. Watching her, he was surprised again to discover that he was feeling oddly attracted to her. And his body responded in kind. Soft tendrils of her hair had escaped her plait and now caressed the tender skin around her face and neck. And when he glanced at her neck, he couldn’t help but notice that the bodice of her dress emphasized her bosom a bit more than usual. Funny that, he’d never really considered Penelope to be very well endowed.
“I think I’m beginning to realize why you haven’t sent Periwinkle packing, after all.” She set down her pencil and nodded somewhat respectfully at him. “He’s obviously embezzled a great deal of money from the estate and you hope to discover its whereabouts before giving him the boot. Am I right?”
Leave it to Penelope to be completely unaware of the fact that she had just spent over three hours behind closed doors—with a man who was not her brother nor her father. Unchaperoned.
Hugh pushed his inappropriate thoughts out of his mind and contemplated what she said. At first, he’d allowed Periwinkle to stay on the property out of some misplaced sense of duty to an old retainer. But upon further consideration, he’d realized that he owed the man nothing. In fact, it was Periwinkle who owed him. And the way Periwinkle had been prowling about, Hugh guessed that some of what Periwinkle was hiding was actually inside of the main house.
“I can see it in your eyes that I am right!” Penelope was suddenly much more animated than before. “Tell me, Hugh. What are your suspicions?”
Should he tell her? How could he not?
“There ought to have been several thousands of pounds in the safe.” He indicated with a jerk of his head toward a large painting. “At first, I had all intentions of calling the magistrate in but unfortunately,” he winced as he completed his statement, “the magistrate is already here.”
“You?”
“Yes,” he said, “unfortunately.”
“You already said that,” she reminded him.
“What?”
“That it is unfortunate that you are the magistrate.”
