Page 3 of The Spy and His Lady Love
Chapter 2
“Welcome, Your Grace, to Wentworth Manor.”Harry hid his surprise at being greeted in thegreat hallby none other than his hostess, the American Duchess.
He bowed as best he could with his leg braced up, not allowing him to bend at the knee. “Your Grace.” She genuinely smiled at him with a warm welcome, and his esteem of her climbedquitehigh. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”
“You’re very welcome. May I impose upon you to escort me into the drawing room? It appears I’m rather tardy to the festivities.”
“My pleasure, I assure you.” Harry held out his arm, and the duchess didn’t hesitate to place her gloved hand on his forearm. “Before we go, may I inquire of you to allow my valet, Edmond, to join your servants in their evening meal?”
“Not at all.” She addressed Edmond directly. “Down the hall. Go through the kitchen and you will find them.” She turned her beautiful smile on Harry, and he found himself envious of her husband. “Shall we?”
They ascended the staircase. Her slow and graceful and he slow and awkward. If the lame leg wasn’t bad enough, only seeing out of one eye because of his black patch made it even worse. Not to mention the itch from the theater makeup he used to create his hideous scar—something he’d become adept at. She led him into a large burgundy drawing room noisily full of people.
“Here we are.” Her Grace removed her arm from his and curtsied. “I will send my husband along.”
He watched her weaveinand around several occupants until she reached Wentworth’s side. Heads close together as they shared private words, Wentworth glanced his way, bowed to his wife, and strolled towards Harry, pausing briefly to speak to one guest or another. Harry recognized most occupants of the room, even if he hadn’tbeen formally introducedto them. He knew they invited him for only one reason. Wentworth wanted a match between him and Lady Penelope. Although if that were so, why, pray tell, was Viscount Dayton and Mr. Phillip Percy in attendance? Here was the man to ask.
“Newbury.” Wentworth nodded his head in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it this evening. And a lovely evening it is.”
Nodding his head in return, Harry replied, “Thank you for inviting me. It’s a lovely evening, but my leg tells me it will rain by midnight.” Harry did not know if it would rain by midnight, but it was London and it almost always rained. He had to play the cripple and all that went with it. Such as predicting the raindue toarthritic pain.
“I imagine you are right on that account. I believe my sister, Lady Penelope, willbe thrilledto renew your acquaintance this evening. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Wentworth tipped his head forward. “Duty calls.”
As a servant walked by with a round tray covered in champagne flutes, Harry plucked one off the tray and took a large sip, ignoring the bubbles tickling his nose as he scanned the crowd. Hewas not surprisedto see Wentworth’s sister, Lady Northborough, and her husband, Lord Northborough, as strangers called him. But to his friends, Myles. Harry wondered where he would fall once they became acquainted? Friends, he hoped. From what he knew about Myles and his reputation, Harry believed they wouldindeedbecome excellent friends. The scandal sheets had not exaggerated his wife, Isabella’s beauty. She could make a man kill himself for want of her. Or so he’d heard.
With the couple stood young Penelope looking lovely and innocent dressed in white. Although once at the mercy of the lecher, Viscount Hadley, Harry wondered how innocent. He’d done his homework. With his spy credentials, nothing or no one was beyond his reach. Viscount Hadley used and abused his servants, both sexually and physically. The man deserved to rot in Newgate. Perhaps Penelope, with his help, would be the one to put him there. He only hoped the viscount hadn’t abused Penelope. No one deserved such a fate.
Her soft, animated voice traveled through the air and warmed him. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t make out what she said, hearing the tone proved enough to entertain him. As far as Harry could tell, the only downfall to this evening was his attire—dressed as the injured, lame, and hideous Duke of Newbury. How could he possibly win over Penelope? He never would consider taking a wife if he hadn’t inherited the dukedom and all the responsibility that went with it—an heir and a spare. Prinny hinted at wives and heirs and spares every time they spoke. The Prince Regent knew his secret, so it was easy for him to believe Harry could attract a wife.
Bored and standing on the fringes of society, in more ways than one, Harry hobbled over to Wentworth who had joined Penelope. The banging of his cane connecting with the wooden floor had all eyes turned his way causing him to cringe. Oh, how he hated the pitying looks on their faces.
“Wentworth, may I beg a formal introduction to your guests?”
“How remiss me .” Wentworth said. “Your Grace, may I present Lord and Lady Northborough,” then he turned to face his sister and brother-in-law “Isabella, Myles, the Duke of Newbury.”
“Countess.” Harry rigidly bowed. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, Your Grace,” Lady Northborough replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Harry didn’t blame her. She must wonder how her brother could hope for a match between him and Penelope. Many others must wonder the same thing. What did Wentworth know others didn’t? Was there a chance he knew his true identity? Impossible. Not unless Wentworth had a secret identity as well. If he did, Surely Harry would know.
He inclined his head to Northborough. “A pleasure to meet you, Northborough.”
Northborough nodded his head. “Yes.” The earl’s eyes looked him over from head to toe. “Did you sustain your injuries fighting Bonaparte at Waterloo?”
Harry hid a chuckle when Northborough’s wife elbowed him in the side then looked at Harry, blushing a becoming shade of pink. Wentworth cleared his throat and said, “Excuse Myles. He has a habit of speaking before he thinks.”
“Quite all right,” Harry said with a grin. “I’d rather people acknowledge my disfigurement openly than pretend I’m fit as a fiddle. And the answer to your question is, yes. I sustained my injuries at Waterloo. A particularly nasty battle.”
“The gash on your face looks rather recent,” Penelope said, which brought gasps to everyone’s mouths.
“It is, and it isn’t. I reopened the old scar recently after taking a rather nasty fall. Having one eye and a leg which refuses to bend makes me clumsy.” He chuckled, which he turned into a coughing fit. Must not have them thinking he was healthy inside. Unhealthy inside and out and a rich duke. Excellent marriage material. If Wentworth believed it numbered his days, he was more likely to convince his sister to marry him. Convince her he would not live long. She would be a young, rich widow and then could marry for love. Love…what a silly notion that some members of the ton held out for love. Harry only needed a willing wife to give him an heir and spare. He got everything else he needed from his childhood friend and mistress, Rose. Thinking of Rose, when and if he married, would he break his marriage vows by keeping a mistress? He didn’t believe so.
Why had he decided to pursue Penelope? Because he had no other prospects and she intrigued him because of her background. She appeared to have a bright spark inside. And he couldn’t forget beauty. If he was inclined to lose his head or heart to a woman, it could be Penelope. Good thing he wasn’t so inclined. Another reason she suited his purpose was he didn’t want a spoiled young lady of privilege who hadn’t a mind of her own. One who expected her suitor to spoil her and treat her like a princess. No indeed. Penelope would not expect that of a prospective husband.
“Does it hurt?” Penelope’s velvety voice intruded on his musings.
This time Wentworth interceded on his behalf. “Newbury is not here to answer questions about his injuries. Perhaps there are other, more appropriate questions you’d prefer to ask him?”But further questioning of any kind was stalled by the announcement dinner was served.
Harry escorted the Duchess of Wentworth into the large, stately dining room and was pleased to be seated beside her with Penelope on his other side. Sitting across from someone was nice as you could enjoy the view, but conversations across dinner tables were forbidden. Now he could engage Penelope in light conversation and get to know her better. He had thought about her constantly since dancing with her at the masquerade. Not that she would know Hugh who she met the other night, and he, were one and the same. Something that would only be disclosed if they did become betrothed.
