Page 23 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
“Ah, yes. I believe you told me he was a lawyer.”
“Yes. A solicitor.”
“Have you always lived in London?”
Once more a flushed face. “I do not see the point of all these questions about me, Mr. Baker. I am certainly not the one placing these things on my front doorstep.”
He moved forward, his knees touching hers. “If you want me to investigate fully, I need to ask questions. For all we know, the person tormenting you could very well be from your past.”
“I have no past.” Her words were clipped as she turned her head to look out the window.
He leaned back again, appearing to be at ease, but every nerve in his body was on alert. Everyone had a past. He would bet his yearly income that Mrs. Pennyworth not only had a past, but something onerous that she was reluctant to share.
She returned her attention to him. “Very well, if you must know, no, I have not lived in London my entire life. I was raised in a small village that I left when I was old enough to find my own way in the world.”
Acceding to her discomfort, he merely nodded his acknowledgment. There were easier ways to pry information from someone, and it appeared he needed to use those skills on his client, who was obviously not forthcoming. That alone should give him reason to bow out of the investigation.
However, he was not one to give up on an assignment, although he reminded himself to be careful of the strong attraction between them. Right now, he had the strong urge to reach across the space dividing them, haul her into his arms, and plop her rounded bottom on his lap.
The vehicle came to a slow stop. “We are approaching your house. I will arrive promptly at ten in the morning to accompany you to St. Jerome’s.” If it was not bad manners to roll one’s eyes, he was sure Mrs. Pennyworth would have done so. A slight grin tugged at his lips as he opened the door and stepped out of the carriage. Turning, he took her hand and helped her out of the vehicle.
Once they arrived at her doorstep, he gave her a slight bow. “Until tomorrow.”
“Do you need the carriage?”
“No. The omnibus will suit me just fine.” Feeling as though he needed to settle her ruffled feathers, he said, “Please understand that anything I do, or ask, is to further my investigation. It is quite possible someone from your past, especially since you have not been in London your entire life, has now arrived and decided to gain your attention. Just think on what I said, and if there is anyone who you think might be behind this, let me know.”
She still looked uncomfortable, and eager to enter her house. With a tug on the brim of his hat, he turned and made his way down the steps. The short walk to the omnibus gave him time to consider what had happened at the card party, in the carriage on the ride home, and his upcoming trip with Charlotte to St. Jerome’s.
Mrs. Pennyworth was turning out to be as much of a mystery as her problem.
* * *
Once a criminal,always a criminal.
Charlotte closed the door and leaned against it, her hands still shaking, and her knees barely holding her up. Elliot’s words from the other day echoed through her mind. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t she considered if she hired an investigator he would want to know her background? Of course, he would assume someone from her past could be the person they sought.
With a heavy sigh, she removed the pin from her hat and pulled it off her head. Beatrice hurried down the corridor, a bright smile on her young face. “Here, let me take those from you, ma’am.”
Charlotte shrugged out of her pelisse and allowed Bridget to take that and her hat from her. “Please inform Cook that I would like a light supper in about an hour or so. But now I would like some tea. I will be in the drawing room.”
The drawing room was her sanctuary. This room was where she wrote her correspondence, read her books, and embroidered. She felt secure inside these walls. All her pictures, knick-knacks, and decorations anchored her, reminding her she had a home of her own, where she could escape from the rest of the world.
Except she no longer felt as secure as she once had. She wandered the room, waiting for her tea. She dragged her fingertips over the furniture as her thoughts consumed her.
She’d been quite flattered when Gabriel had taken notice of her at the bank. He’d been tall with dark curly hair, and his commanding mien had drawn her from the first time he approached her. His flirting and flattery had certainly turned her head, and after a courtship of only a few months, he’d proposed, and they’d married.
And then a month later he lay dead, and she was once again alone in the world.
* * *
The ride to St.Jerome’s with Elliot was much more pleasant than the ride the day before. He didn’t query her, and shared information gathered during conversations he’d had at various clubs. Based on some of those discourses, several men had been crossed off the list.
“Unfortunately, the baron is not known in my circles, which troubles me,” Elliot mused. “This afternoon I have an appointment with a friend who works at the Foreign Office, who I hope will have information on the man.”
“I must admit, I am a bit uneasy at investigating all these men. I feel as though we are invading their privacy.”
“Perhaps, but if someone is law-abiding they have nothing to fear from me asking questions. Only those who have broken the law need worry.”
