Page 10 of One Night of Temptation
He chuckled again. “So you didn’t. Regardless, you need me, whether you want me or not.”
Wanthim. That word—want—sent a thrill up her spine.
“How do you plan to dispatch these messages?” she asked.
“Con has a boy who works in the kitchen. I’ll send him to Tom’s, and then Tom can run over to my house and let my staff know.”
She blinked at him. “Do you live here in the rookery?”
“Almost. I live on the corner of Dyott and Great Russell Streets. I was on my way home when I saw you.”
She would forever be grateful. “What would Joseph have done if you hadn’t seen me?”
Mr. Tarleton let go of the chair and exhaled heavily. “I’m not entirely certain, but I don’t believe he would have harmed you. Joseph was looking for money. In all likelihood, he would have sent a ransom note to your father.”
She’d done a good job so far of not thinking of what might have been, of how her naïveté in trusting Maisie could have cost her far more than the money she’d lost. But now a shudder raced across her shoulders, and she twitched. Lifting her gaze to his, she gave him an earnest stare. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Once we organize a plan to explain what happened to you and I see you home safely, I’ll accept your gratitude. Now, I’ll go and speak with Con. Lock the door after I leave, and don’t open it unless you’re completely certain it’s me.”
“Are you going to use a special knock when you return so I recognize it’s you?” She realized she sounded as if she was flirting. She’d never flirted with anyone.
Something flashed in his eyes—something that said he realized she was flirting too. “You’ll know it’s me.”
He turned and went to the door. She followed him and held it open as he stepped out into the corridor.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
She nodded, then closed the door in his face. When the latch was securely locked, she put her palms flat on the old wood. Grooves and scratches marred the surface, mostly around the latch.
Crossing to the bed, she grazed her fingertips across the worn coverlet. It must once have been a rich blue but was now faded to nearly gray. She wondered what Mr. Tarleton’s room looked like. They should investigate it when he returned.
He’d paused his entire life to help her. Perhaps he’d had plans this evening. He wasn’t married, and as he’d said, he hadn’t yet found someone he wanted to wed. Perhaps he was going to attend a social event where he might meet her. Perhaps Penelope was interrupting the most important day of his life.
A soft knock startled her. She pulled her hand from the coverlet and stared at the door, wondering if she’d heard anything at all. Then it came again.
She crept across the floor, her feet moving lightly over the wood. At the door, she said, “Who is it?”
“’Tis the rector, lass.”
Lass? The voice had an accent. Irish, if she had to guess. He was most definitely not Mr. Tarleton.
Rather than engage the man, she stayed quiet. She also stayed next to the door and even pressed her ear to the wood.
He knocked again, more loudly this time, making her jump. “Open up!” He tried the latch, and the door moved with his efforts. She backed away, fearing he would breach her meager defenses.
Where was Mr. Tarleton?
A grunt filtered through the door, and she leaned close again, not quite putting her ear on the wood. The sounds of a tussle were unmistakable, but she’d no idea who the participants were. She had to assume the Irishman and Mr. Tarleton. She hoped it was Mr. Tarleton. Yet, she also didn’t want him hurt, especially because of her.
A loud thud forced her to step back from the door once more, the sound of her racing heart pounding in her ears. Then came another knock. This one was more purposeful than the previous. “Lady Penelope?”
She recognized Mr. Tarleton’s voice and exhaled with relief. Still, she should be certain. “Who is it?”
“Hugh.”
Hugh.It almost sounded like you. She smiled. “It isn’t me. I’m in here.”
There was a beat of silence, then, “I’ve never heard that before. Your wit is astounding.”
