Page 10 of Season of the Scoundrel (The Bridewell Sisters #3)
“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.
She heard someone enter the study, but they seemed to be alone. Then the door snicked shut as they closed it.
“I know you’re in here,” Blackbourne said in only slightly more than a whisper. “You might as well come out.”
For a moment, Ivy considered calling his bluff. She stood frozen, even held her breath.
In two steps, he was in front of her. She could sense his nearness.
“Shall I drag you out?” he asked on a husky rasp.
He was the only man she’d ever met whose mere voice could make her insides quiver. What was this power he had over her?
Flicking back the drape, she glared at him. “How did you know I was here?”
“When I realized this was his study, I suspected you were inside. Then I smelled vanilla in the air and noticed a particularly curvaceous bit of drapery. It didn’t take detection skills to work it out.”
Ivy let out a little huff of frustration and strode past him, back to the desk to pull out the top drawer, one she’d yet to explore.
“What on earth are you doing?” Blackbourne asked.
“Searching, of course. You could help me or you can continue glowering at me.”
He let out a sigh, then came around to stand beside her behind the desk.
“I’ve found mention of his shipping concerns. A Southwell Shipping and Carnwick Shipping. Two companies. One in Wapping, one in Southwark.”
“He invited me to the docks last evening, but I didn’t go.”
Ivy looked up, intrigued at that. “I haven’t checked those.” She pointed to the lower right-hand drawers.
His sleeve brushed hers, then the tails of his coat as he bent to search. Apparently, he found something because he pulled out a small black notebook and perused it carefully.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“He owns a club in Bethnal Green, it seems. The Black Opal.”
“Do you know it?”
Blackbourne gave a curt nod. “I know it.”
Ivy filed that information away and continued rifling through papers. One caught her eye because she spotted a name she recognized. She nudged Blackbourne with her elbow. “I think I’ve found something.”
“What is it?” He’d shifted so close, his breath warmed her cheek.
Ivy lifted the folder out and pointed to the name. “Jonas Martin.”
Blackbourne shrugged. “Who is that?”
“A gentleman who was in Penrose’s employ in a factory and then became a manager at one of his shipping concerns.”
“So we’ve found a folder on an employee.” He sounded deeply unimpressed.
“Martin was found dead a month ago. Severely beaten in Southwark shortly after he was sacked by Penrose. I spoke to a source who insisted that Martin had turned informer to the police about Penrose’s dealings.”
The voices of a lady and gentleman could be heard in the hallway outside Penrose’s study. She shoved the drawer shut and reached for Blackbourne’s hand, pulling him toward the draperies.
“Come,” she whispered, “we must hide.”
But, of course, she’d barely fit behind the curtain. With his height and broad-shouldered frame, Blackbourne never would. There was only one thing for it.
Ivy turned to him, gripped his upper arms and tugged him so that his back was toward the door. He moved as she directed, though his brow had pinched as he stared at her like she’d lost her wits.
Then she stepped closer, as close as they’d been two days ago on Fleet Street. She reached up to wrap her hand around his nape.
“Put your arms around me,” she whispered.
“Ivy…” He did as she bid, but his tone was gruff and full of warning.
As the doorknob turned, she arched up onto the toes of her shoes and pressed her lips to Blackbourne’s.
His mouth was warm, softer than she expected, and the way he tightened his arms around her made her feel safe in such an awkward and unexpected moment.
He took no advantage of the moment. Just held her, almost protectively, and brushed his lips against hers.
“Forgive us, Blackbourne,” a man’s voice called out. “We thought we’d found an empty room.”
Blackbourne immediately lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder. “Give us a moment, will you?”
Ivy heard the mix of a man’s and a lady’s low chuckles and then the door slid shut again.
“I don’t think they saw you,” he said quietly.
Ivy suspected the same. Blackbourne was tall and his body wide enough to block her from their view. The harder part would be leaving the study without being seen.
“I’m going to climb out the window,” she told him.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“They’ll see me if I go back into the hallway.”
Blackbourne loosened his hold but didn’t release her, then glanced toward the door.
“Allow me to check the hallway before you fling yourself from a window.” He stepped away from her, opened the door quietly, then stuck his head out and looked both ways.
“The couple has either entered another room or returned to the gathering.” Blackbourne reached a hand back, urging her forward. “Make haste before someone comes along.”
Ivy still worried she’d been seen. Not for her own reputation. She was well on her way to becoming a spinster, but the twins would prepare for their first Season in a handful of years. She wouldn’t wish to tarnish the family’s reputation for their sake.
Ivy lifted the front edge of her gown a bit and rushed out into the hallway, looking behind her to make sure no one watched. She didn’t see anyone and slowed her steps as she approached the drawing room.
Lily immediately rushed forward. “Ivy, where have you been?”
“I…decided I needed a breath of fresh air and went out to the garden.”
Lily’s eyes held a sheen, as if she was truly concerned. “I hope that’s true.”
“Of course it is. I’m sorry to have worried you.”
Lily squeezed Ivy’s hands, then drew in a sharp breath when Blackbourne strode into the drawing room a moment later. A titter of conversation seemed to stir at his arrival. Ivy noticed several of the guests glancing at her and then at the duke. Her stomach began to churn with worry.
“You were gone at the same time,” Lily whispered. “And for a good long while. Gossip has already begun.”
“Gossip?” But Ivy knew what her sister implied even as she asked.
“There’s talk that you and Blackbourne were having an assignation.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ivy saw Griffin approach Blackbourne, her brother-in-law’s expression grim.
“Why is Griffin speaking to him?”
Lily’s eyes had widened. “I suppose he wants to determine the duke’s intentions.”
“This is ridiculous.” Ivy’s belly plummeted to her boots. “It wasn’t an assignation. I won’t be forced into marrying him.”
It was nearly the turn of the century, for heaven’s sake. They’d done nothing truly scandalous except nose about a gentleman’s study without permission and…share a kiss. A very brief kiss. Though one she knew she’d never forget, as it was her very first.
I won’t marry him , she repeated in her mind, but a sinking, terrified part of her sensed an awful prospect ahead, the thing she feared most—no longer having the choice to follow her own path.