Page 6 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
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Elliot chastised himself as he dressed for the blasted poetry reading. Several times since Mrs. Pennyworth had left his office, he’d considered sending a note along that time did not permit him to accept her case, after all.
Not a complete lie, since he did have other assignments, as well as some legal work that needed his attention. Of course, no other job required him to be available in the evenings, which was when he would be doing most of the work for his newest client.
Every time he thought of Mrs. Pennyworth, Annabelle’s face rose to mind. Her sweet countenance, her fake blushes, her batting eyelashes as she had lied through her teeth. There was no other way to put it. She’d made a fool of him, cost him his career as an inspector, and put him on guard with every woman he’d met since.
Especially Mrs. Pennyworth, with her delightful, round face, pleading eyes, and shaky hands. An act? Perhaps. Whatever she was about, he would bet his yearly income she was holding something back from him. He would have to remain cautious until he knew her better.
Returning his attention to the task at hand, he gave his best suit a good brushing, and dressed. Not having attended one of these functions before, he hoped his closely tailored slack suit with a wingtip collar and four-in-hand tie would be acceptable attire.
He was not attempting to impress Mrs. Pennyworth, merely endeavoring not to embarrass the woman. As a former inspector with Scotland Yard, and now a private investigator and solicitor, his usual social engagements consisted of a round of boxing at Gentleman Jim’s, followed by a few mugs of ale in the local pub, or a snifter of brandy at his club.
While he pulled on various pieces of clothing, his mind once more wandered back to the disaster that Miss Annabelle Walters had caused. Lovely Annabelle, with her deep brown eyes and wavy black hair. Beautiful, charming, sensuous. And deadly.
No matter how many times he castigated himself, he still felt anger at her duplicity. And his stupidity.
He had believed those sultry looks and promises of carnal pleasure. He’d fallen hard for her, spending much more time dancing attendance on her than concentrating on his work. He’d been assigned to meet a ship sailing from India with a priceless jewel onboard to be transported to the Jewel House at the Tower of London where the Crown Jewels were stored. Annabelle had pouted and complained that she would miss a theater performance to which he’d promised his escort.
It was after she had threatened to attend with another man who had been seeking her favors, that he’d passed the assignment off to an underling, who had been crippled in the attempted robbery of the priceless piece. Six weeks later, Annabelle, along with three men who had been named as her accomplices, had been arrested for the attempted robbery.
He’d been the one to handcuff her and place her into custody. The vicious words she’d hurled at him in front of the other inspectors had brought him shame and disgust. After a very brief meeting with the Chief Inspector, Elliot had resigned. He’d spent the past two years attempting to recover his good name.
Now, he was once again working at the behest of a beautiful woman. One to whom he was unquestionably attracted. Unfortunately, due to the nature of her situation, the best method to uncover her tormentor was to delve into her world and spend time with her. He broke into a sweat at the thought of again falling under the spell of an unknown female and placing his reputation on the line.
Besides attending social events, he would assign someone to watch her doorstep to see if the man could be caught that way, but it was highly unlikely the suspect left the repulsive objects himself.
Placing his derby on his head, he left the house to travel the two miles to pick up Mrs. Pennyworth. Night had fallen and with the ever-present fog not too heavy, he eschewed hiring a hansom cab for such a short jaunt, and instead chose to take the omnibus and then walk the short distance to her house.
The neighborhood changed as he made his way from his lower middle-class flat to her upper middle-class home. There was more space between the residences, and the front gardens were better kept. Most likely, these dwellers had permanent staff, as opposed to Elliot, who relied upon his landlady, Mrs. Murray, to clean his rooms, and provide him with breakfast each morning. He sent his laundry out and hired a horse or hansom cab when he needed one. Although his businesses allowed him to move to a house in a better neighborhood, he enjoyed watching his bank balance grow for this future.
One day he might take a wife, but until he felt he had recovered his reputation, he would not saddle a woman with his name. If his standing as a crack private investigator, and a top-notch solicitor, continued to grow, he might consider marriage.
Mrs. Pennyworth would make some man a fine wife.
He snorted and shoved that idea from his mind. He barely knew her, had reason to believe she was hiding something, and she was above his station. He’d just spent a half hour reminding himself of the repercussions the last time a woman had distracted him. It was best to squash whatever fancy he might have for her and concentrate on getting the job done.
He was humming a tune by the time he reached her front step. He took a quick look around, to see how visible the area was to someone he would send to watch. He could see down the street from both ways clearly enough.
A young fresh-faced parlor maid opened the door to his knock and escorted him to the drawing room. A well-appointed, lovely room.
Deep rose-colored patterned wallpaper covered the walls, with white wainscoting along the bottom. A plush decorative carpet protected most of the highly polished wooden floor. He groaned at the uncomfortable looking, yet stylish furniture taking up a great deal of the floor space. ’Twas obvious no man had selected these pieces.
Dozens of knick-knacks, clocks, bowls, lamps, picture frames, figurines, and other whatnot decorated the area, giving him an immediate sense of claustrophobia. Yet, from the little he knew of Mrs. Pennyworth, the room looked very much like what he would have supposed. Attuned as he was for sounds, he knew immediately when she entered the room. The slight swish of a gown, mixed with the light scent of roses he’d noticed when she’d come to his office.
He turned and wished he had not decided to conduct the investigation in this manner. His client was a stunning vision who robbed him of breath. Her deep lavender dress displayed her form to perfection.
Her maid had arranged her hair in such a manner that all he wanted to do was pull the pins holding up her golden tresses and run his fingers through its length.
Slow down, or you will be in deep trouble, my friend.
He gave her a bow and smiled. “You look lovely this evening.”
She gave a quick curtsey in return which, given their stations, was not required, but she looked almost as confused as he felt. Before he could make a cake of himself, he extended his arm. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath and licked her lips. Was she nervous? After Elliot assisted with her cloak, they headed to the front door.
The muscles in her arm tensed as the parlor maid opened the door. He bent toward her, a whiff of her scent filling his nostrils. “Do not concern yourself. There was nothing there when I arrived.”
