Page 27 of One Night of Scandal
“Yes, let’s see Pennington.”
They arrived at Pennington’s table without further incident. He sat with two other gentlemen.
“Tavistock, Barrett!” Pennington greeted them with a grin. “Sit with us. You must know Naylor and Yates.”
“Of course,” Mr. Barrett said, taking a seat.
For a moment, Viola waited for him to hold her chair before realizing she was supposed to be a bloody man. She sat down with alacrity and hoped there would be brandy forthwith. She needed just a sip or two to calm her nerves. Because of Ledbury.
Yes, of course because of Ledbury.
Or the fact that you’re dressed as a man at Brooks’s.
Nothing to do with Jack Barrett. Nothing at all.
The brandy did indeed arrive shortly, and Viola took two small sips. Then she did her best to join in the conversation about horseflesh. After a while, Naylor and Yates took their leave. Viola exchanged a look with Mr. Barrett, who gave her a very slight nod. That meant she should do what they’d discussed.
“Pennington,” she started, “I visited with Hodges the other day at the coffeehouse. He told me all about that…incident.” She arched her brows before picking up her glass and pretending to take another drink. Acting as though she were drinking as much as her companions was an important part of her masquerade.
Pennington stuck his lips out and narrowed his eyes before realization struck. “Oh! Theincident. He told youallabout it?”
She nodded. “He did. So fascinating.”
“Did he tell you as well?” Pennington asked Mr. Barrett.
“No, but Tavistock shared the details. It’s bloody shocking to think that happened.”
The color in Pennington’s face lightened. He shifted in his chair. “I hope you aren’t sharing this with anyone else. I shouldn’t have said anything to you at the Wicked Duke. I hope you haven’t told anyone that I did.”
The man sounded…afraid. Viola exchanged another glance with Mr. Barrett, who seemed to share her concern.
“No, we haven’t told anyone,” Viola said evenly. “However, you know I’m a reporter.”
Pennington flinched. “Yes. Well, whatever you write, I do hope you’ll keep my name out of it.”
“Of course,” Mr. Barrett said. “This is a…sensitive issue. Your identity isn’t important, just that of the MP.”
“Do you know who he is?” Pennington looked between them, his gaze a mixture of curiosity and dread.
“Don’t you?” Mr. Barrett countered before Viola could form a response.
Pennington shook his head. “Thankfully, no. I think it’s only a matter of time before he’s arrested.”
Mr. Barrett leaned forward. “Why do you think that?”
Draining his brandy glass, Pennington set it back on the table and abruptly stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve somewhere I need to be.”
And then he was gone, stalking away as if the club was on fire.
“What do you suppose has him so frightened?” she whispered, turning toward Mr. Barrett.
“I’m not sure, but it’s concerning to say the least. I wish he’d answered that last question. Does he know something that leads him to believe this MP will be arrested? Or was he simply prognosticating?” Mr. Barrett tapped his finger on the table. “Given his reaction, I’m not sure I want to continue this tack tonight. I think we should go.”
Disappointment curled through Viola, and yet she didn’t disagree. The encounter with Edmund had put her on edge, and Pennington’s odd behavior had only intensified her feeling of unease.
They stood and left the subscription room quickly, not stopping to chat with anyone. Outside, Mr. Barrett hailed a hack and gave the driver the direction of her mews.
“I’ll drop you at home before I continue on to the Wicked Duke,” Mr. Barrett said, sitting beside her since this vehicle had only the one seat.
