Chapter Eight
Simon
Simon leaned back in his chair, pushing paperwork aside before taking a sip of brandy.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he rubbed his forehead and reached down to give the kitten winding around his legs a scratch on the back.
Tabby let out a purr of contentment before jumping up into Simon’s lap, curling into a warm ball of soft, gray fur.
“You know I only allow you to stay here so that you might hunt mice,” Simon murmured, rubbing the kitten’s ears. “But I don’t believe you are holding up your end of the bargain, my friend. Seems you would much rather play with scraps of ribbons than focus on your job.”
Five days had passed since the night he abruptly left his favorite gambling den, and Penelope True’s disappearance was quickly becoming fodder for London’s scandal rags.
Who could have taken her, if that’s what occurred? If she had gone of her own free will, then where was she? And if the unthinkable had happened…then where, pray tell, was her body?
From the other side of the house, Simon heard a tremendous pounding, and cocking his head, he listened intently. A moment later came quick footsteps, and with barely a knock on the door to his study, his butler burst into the room.
“Begging your pardon, milord, but it seems Lord and Lady Wyldewood have arrived with the most urgent of news.” Williams’s tone was breathless, which was to be expected when a normally staid and collected butler was forced to run from one end of the house to the other.
“What the devil is going on?” Simon barked. Before he could rise from his chair, Tabby abandoned the comfortable lap upon which he’d been dozing. He leapt to the floor in one graceful movement, scampering beneath Simon’s desk and huddling there with a low growl at the intrusion.
“Your sister, milord, and others—” Williams managed before Emily’s voice reached Simon’s ears.
“Simon?” Emily called out, her voice coming from the direction of the front foyer. “Simon, are you here?”
Simon brushed past his red-faced butler, throwing the man an exasperated glare as he did so. “You might have shown them to the front parlor, Williams.” He strode down the corridor, Williams on his heels and nearly trotting in an effort to keep up.
“You misunderstand the situation, milord. You see—”
Simon rounded the corner and immediately collided with his sister. Only his hands instinctively grabbing her shoulders and Wylder’s hands holding her waist kept her from landing on her backside.
“What in the holy hell,” Simon muttered as Wylder pulled Emily back against his own body.
“Emily, calm down,” Wylder coaxed his wife, his gray eyes finding Simon’s as he tenderly cupped her cheek. “We mustn’t let the situation get out of hand before we know all the facts. And you mustn’t go barreling down corridors like that…you could get hurt.”
Simon quickly examined Emily, his gaze instantly cataloguing any injuries she might have suffered at the hands of her new husband.
But other than her worried expression, there appeared to be nothing wrong with her.
In fact, she was practically glowing with happiness, her blue eyes sparkling as she unconsciously nuzzled into Wylder’s palm.
“What is this about?” Simon interjected, drawing their attention to him.
“Oh, Simon,” Emily said in a halting voice.
Her bottom lip trembled. “If only you had not bought this townhouse, this would not be happening! You must know, this was all set in motion long before I became aware of your own plans.” She cast a pleading glance at Wylder and said in a low voice, “Had there been any other choice, I would have made it.”
“We should discuss this privately.” Wylder’s jaw clenched. “And there is much to discuss.”
“What the hell is going on?” Simon demanded, his chest growing tight with an unnamed dread. He glanced from his sister to his best friend, but it seemed neither could bring themselves to voice aloud what this business was about.
“Simon, we should go to your study,” Wylder said, his voice tight, and for some unknown reason, Emily’s expression was both crestfallen and nervous.
“I shall show the others to the front parlor and serve refresh—” Williams began to say when suddenly more voices erupted from the distant area of the foyer. Angry voices, a mix of male and female. The woman’s voice was high-pitched with emotion.
Simon’s eyebrow arched in question before pushing past Wylder.
Striding down the corridor, he heard his friend’s muttered curse, along with a strange little sob from Emily as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
He did not wait to see if they followed in his footsteps as he rounded the corner.
“We did not bring them here, Simon,” Wylder said in quick explanation behind him. His tone held both anger and disgusted frustration. “They were waiting to follow us…like a mouse to cheese, it seems.”
Lord and Lady True stood in the spacious foyer. As soon as they spied Simon, they shoved past the constable currently blocking the unruly pair. Two men whom Simon suspected of being Bow Street Runners flanked the elderly constable.
“There he is!” Lady True wailed, pointing an accusing finger at Simon. “There is the dastardly monster responsible for this horrible scandal. That’s him!”
“Madam, please,” the constable pleaded, throwing Simon a sympathetic look over his shoulder. “You must control yourself. We shall get to the bottom of this, but we must all remain calm for the sake of decorum.”
“He has ruined us! Ruined everything we worked so hard to achieve,” Lord True claimed, his chest puffing up with indignation. “No man will want her now. Not after someone of Camden’s reputation has corrupted her.”
“What the devil are you talking about, Lord True?” Simon growled in frustration.
“Who has been ruined?” But there was a sinking feeling that abruptly settled in his gut and refused to dissipate.
He already knew the answer, and in that moment, the world spun faster than his brain could comprehend.
His knees buckled for a brief second before he could lock them in place.
“Do not insult us by pretending you’ve not concealed our daughter in your home for the last month, Lord Camden!” Lady True’s outrage came out in a screech. “Where is she? What have you done with her?”
“Let’s not go into hysterics,” Wylder interjected.
“Where is Miss True, Lord Camden?” one of the runners asked, crossing his arms as though he meant business.
He even had the audacity to scowl in disapproval at Simon as though he were some manner of common criminal.
“We suspect she is indeed inside this house. We’ve had men watching Lord Wyldewood’s residence for days now.
So, when a maid that is in your employ presented herself there for no discernible reason, and was quickly given an audience, a man followed her back here.
Naturally, he reported the unusual activity back to headquarters.
Not long after, Lord and Lady Wyldewood hurried to depart and made their way to your home.
Tell us, Lord Camden. What have you done with Miss True? ”
“Lord Camden has not harmed her.” Wylder stepped between the runner and Simon, whose fists were clenched into tight balls of fury. “And to imply otherwise is very foolhardy on your part, sir.”
“He couldn’t,” Emily added softly. “He-he would never…” She ran to Simon, gripping his arm and staring at him beseechingly. “Do not blame Penelope for this, Simon. I beg you. This is all my fault…she is blameless.”
“I’ve not done anything with her. Until this moment, I had no knowledge that she was suspected of being in this house,” Simon growled. “Your information is possibly incorrect.”
“She is here,” Emily confirmed sadly, gripping Wylder’s hand for support.
“There can be only one solution to this scandalous event,” Lady True crowed, nodding her head at the constable.
“You will bear witness to this, Constable. Our daughter is utterly ruined, and only marriage to the man responsible for her downfall will redeem her reputation and our own. We demand that he rectify the situation.”
Simon finally found his voice, shock and anger raging within him as realization washed over him.
All those instances when he thought he was going insane…
those moments when the scent of lavender and vanilla teased his nose, and he could have sworn he was being watched.
It all made sense now. A little mouse had been scurrying around his home.
Hiding in corners. Peeking around the drapes.
Leaning over him as he lay drunk and half asleep in his own damned bed.
An image of Penelope True’s face hovering above his own, her eyes so wide and green, her skin like fresh cream as her cheeks pinkened with embarrassed innocence.
Christ, he’d thought he was dreaming that night.
He’d stroked himself before everything had faded to black, believing she was nothing more than a mirage.
If his disjointed, scattered memories held any truth, he had spoken to her as though she were one of the comfort women offered at the Grinning Cockrel.
But she had been real all along. And life as he knew it was about to change drastically.
Simon pinned Emily with a heated stare, his jaw clenched so tight he was in danger of cracking his molars. That his own sister was involved with this travesty brought a sense of betrayal that took his breath away. “How long has she been in this house, Emily?”
“She arrived just before Wylder and I were married.” Emily’s chin lifted.
“I had arrangements in place for her to be gone from here, Simon, before you ever discovered her. I had to help her, don’t you see?
” Her gaze flickered to Penelope’s parents, who now stood silent.
“They planned on marrying her to a monster.”
“What do you think shall happen to her now, Emily?” Simon quietly snarled. “Do you believe I shall be any different?”
Wylder bristled, winding a protective arm around Emily’s waist. “I realize you are angry, Simon, but you will watch your tone when it comes to my wife. Rest assured, I am already contemplating an appropriate punishment for her part in devising this scheme.”
Simon raked a hand through his hair, glaring at both his sister and her new husband.
“I would expect no less of you, Wylder.” He jerked his chin at both the runners and the constable, who nervously shifted his feet.
“The three of you may wait in the front parlor. Your assistance is not required for this portion of the travesty unraveling here. Lord True, Lady True, we shall continue this discussion in my study. Lord Wyldewood, I would appreciate your serving as a witness to the arrangements. And Emily.” His eyes narrowed with anticipation.
The cold glow of retribution spread throughout his body as he considered how he would extract his pound of flesh from the lovely, shy, and deceptively deceitful Penelope True.
“You shall fetch Miss True from whatever mousehole she is hiding in and bring her to me at once.”