Page 36 of One Night of Temptation
Hugh offered his arm, which she took and prayed he couldn’t tell that she was shaking.
“Are you all right, my lady?” the groom asked, accompanying them up the walk.
“I’m fine, thank you. Would you mind seeing to Mr. Tarleton’s gig while he escorts me inside?”
“Of course.” The groom eyed Hugh with a mix of wariness and curiosity, and Penelope was certain the gossip amongst the staff would be fast and furious.
The door opened, and the butler, Scrope, stood just over the threshold. He was a stoic, largely indifferent man, but even his expression softened as soon as he saw Penelope. She felt a moment’s discomfort for having caused the staff to worry.
“Good morning, Scrope,” she said. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Tarleton, who has so kindly returned me home.”
Scrope blinked, his bushy gray brows wiggling. “Mr. Tarleton didn’t—”
“Of course not,” Penelope said, sounding far calmer than she felt. “Mr. Tarleton is the rector at St. Giles, which is where I found myself this morning.”
“Your father will be so relieved to see you.” Relieved, not happy. That sounded right. “He’s in his study. I don’t think he went to his bedchamber all night.”
He’d been that concerned?
“We’ll go see him straightaway.” Penelope led Hugh past the staircase to her father’s study. The door was ajar, so she pushed it open.
Father stood from his desk and gaped at them. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was unkempt. “What the—” He came around the desk, his eyes wide. “Penelope?”
She took her hand from Hugh’s arm, not because she wanted to, but because it was time. She missed his warmth and strength already. “Good morning, Father. This is Mr. Tarleton, the rector of St. Giles.”
“St. Giles? We’ve had Runners looking for you in that hellish neighborhood since last night.” He slid a wary glance toward Hugh, who, even though they were no longer touching, Penelope felt tense at the word hellish. “How did you end up with Mr. Tarleton?”
“I was able to escape my captors and find my way to the church.” Before she could continue, her father spoke.
“Mrs. Hall wondered if you’d run away, but your mother insisted you wouldn’t. Then we received the ransom note.”
Hehadreceived one! Had theTimes?
“What did it say?” she asked.
“That we were to deliver an exorbitant sum—it doesn’t bear repeating—to an inn in St. Giles. Unfortunately, the note didn’t specify which inn. Whoever abducted you is an imbecile, which is supported by your ability to escape.”
Penelope felt Hugh tense beside her. It wasn’t an outright insult, but her father certainly implied that her kidnappers would have to be halfwits in order for her to get away.
“How were you kidnapped in the first place? Mrs. Hall said you wandered off at the museum.”
Of course the chaperone wouldn’t say she’d allowed Penelope to searchalonefor a lost earring. “I was lured out of the museum by a child in need. Then someone threw a bag over my head and took me away.” Her insides twisted as she waited for her father’s response.
“I see.” There was a dubious edge to the marquess’s tone that didn’t soothe Penelope’s nerves in the slightest. “And how did you manage to escape?”
Penelope kept her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. “There was a young woman—little more than a girl really—who took pity on me. She took off my blindfold and allowed me to walk around the room. I took the chance to run and was able to get away. When I got outside, I recognized the tower of the St. Giles church. I was sure I could find safety there. Mr. Tarleton was more than happy to help me get home.”
“I think my wife visits your church,” the marquess said. He offered his hand to Hugh. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home. We’ve been sick with worry.” He transferred his attention to Penelope. “Surely you can at least identify the young woman who helped you. We’ll find her, and then we’ll find them.” His jaw tensed with cold determination. She hated that expression.
Penelope fought the rigidity threatening to take over her body. She didn’t want to appear tense or nervous. “I don’t remember her face, Father. I’m sorry.” She spoke softly and weighted her words with remorse.
“Then you can lead us to where you were held.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that either,” Penelope said with more strength than she felt. “St. Giles is a warren of narrow, twisting streets and alleys. I would never be able to find my way back there.”
Hugh’s fingertips lightly grazed hers as he straightened his arm at her side. “She’s right. It’s easy to get lost there. And as you said, my lord, the neighborhood ishellish. I doubt you’ll be able to find who was responsible.”
Penelope heard the sardonic, almost irritated edge to his tone, but doubted her father would pick up on it since he didn’t know Hugh as she did.
