Lord of Fortune Read online

  Now she looked relieved. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you.” She tipped her head to the side. “Twice? Does that mean I should give you a second kiss?”

  Penn stepped back again, moving so quickly, he almost dropped the bottle and tumbler. “No, that won’t be necessary. Your gratitude is quite noted. And appreciated.” He smiled and held up the items in his hands. “Thank you for the whiskey. Good night.”

  Then he turned and fled to his room as quickly as he could. And locked the door for good measure.

  * * *

  Amelia surveyed herself in the glass. She looked calm and serene, her hair perfectly dressed by Culley, who was now packing up the last of their things.

  Inside, however, Amelia was a tumult of emotion.

  After Penn had pulled away from their kiss last night, Amelia had gone into her room with a sense of relief. However, the desire he’d awakened in her had quickly chased that relief away. Deciding she did want to be a bold adventurer, she’d turned and opened the door intent on inviting herself back to Penn’s room—that would have been a necessity since Culley would be sleeping on a pallet in her room.

  Only Penn had no longer been in front of her door.

  Peering down the corridor toward his room, she’d seen him at the top of the stairs, his hands clasping Henrietta Jessup rather intimately. Then she’d given him the bottle and cup she’d been holding only to put her hands on him.

  Then she’d kissed him.

  And that was all Amelia had been able to tolerate. She’d closed the door—quietly so as not to alert them to the fact that she’d opened the door in the first place. She regretted it entirely.

  What had she expected? Penn’s reputation with women was apparently well-known. Culley had told Amelia all about it after hearing quite an earful from Penn’s housekeeper. It seemed women flocked to him, finding him irresistibly attractive. For the most part, he kept to himself, but he was a man, after all, and conducted discreet liaisons from time to time.

  Had he turned to Henrietta after deciding it was best to keep his relationship with Amelia professional? It was her own fault for insisting they do that. Except, she’d made light of it when he’d kissed her in Oxford, and… And what? They hadn’t discussed any expectations and whether they would kiss again. Then he’d asked her last night, and she’d felt certain they were of a similar mind.

  Apparently, she’d been wrong. Or he’d changed his mind. Perhaps she was just really skilled at driving men away.

  Gritting her teeth, she turned from the glass. Culley had just finished buckling up her valise. She gave Amelia a bright smile, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil rattling in Amelia’s head.

  “Ready, then?” Culley asked.

  Amelia took a deep breath to cleanse her frustrating thoughts. “Yes. I imagine someone will fetch our luggage—whoever brought them up.”

  “That was Egg,” Culley said.

  Giving Culley a nod, Amelia departed the chamber and made her way downstairs. As she descended, her body tensed. She didn’t particularly want to see Penn this morning. Perhaps she could go directly to her coach. He did say they wouldn’t be lingering for breakfast.

  But no, there he was standing near the door speaking with Mr. Jessup, his hair combed back from his handsome face, and his shirt and cravat almost blindingly white against his dark tan skin. He smiled at something the innkeeper said, and Amelia’s insides twisted with want.

  Damn him.

  How many times had she thought that curse in reference to Thaddeus? Too many. But at some point, she’d realized she was better off without him, even if his abrupt departure had been devastating for a time.

  A thought occurred to her—she ought not carry on any sort of liaison with Penn Bowen. She was, legally, still a married woman. Thaddeus had to be missing seven years to be declared dead, and it had only been five.

  Did any of that really matter? It wasn’t as if her marriage to Thaddeus had turned out all that well. Aside from the fact that he’d left her, their union hadn’t been the grand love affair she’d hoped it would be. He’d swept her off her feet when she’d been barely twenty-one, and for the first few months, she’d believed he loved her in return. Then he’d stopped coming home at night. Then he’d stopped coming home for days at a time. Then he’d stopped coming home at all.

  Then the creditors had come and taken most of what they’d owned.

  Oh, she knew marriage could be a happy estate—her parents and grandparents had demonstrated that. Still, she wondered why hers had gone so horribly wrong.

  Grandfather had said she chose poorly. Well, she didn’t mean to do that again.

  Penn’s gaze found hers, and his mouth lifted at the corners in a half smile. It didn’t reach fruition, however. Instead, his eyes darkened and his brow creased.

  Perhaps because she hadn’t returned his expression of happiness.

  Extricating himself from Mr. Jessup, Penn came over, his gaze now wary. “Good morning.” The greeting held a bit of a question.

  “Good morning,” Amelia said, hoping she didn’t sound as stiff as she felt. She didn’t want things to be awkward since they had to work together.

  He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Are you upset with me?”

  She blinked at him and kept up an air of nonchalance that was quite at odds with the thundering of her heart. “No. Should I be?”

  Yes.

  He hesitated before slowly answering. “I hope not.” He pressed his lips together. “I apologize for last night. I got carried away, and that wasn’t well done of me.”

  Just as she suspected, he regretted it. “Yes, well, we won’t do that again. We’ve behaved professionally for the majority of our association, and I expect we can do so again.” She squared her shoulders. “Are we ready to depart?”

  “Nearly. I’m just waiting for Henrietta to bring our breakfast so we may take it along with us.” His gaze tripped past her toward the back of the inn. “Here she comes.”

  Anger flared in Amelia’s chest. Rather than turn and see the woman Penn preferred to be kissing, she said, “I’ll be outside.” She stalked quickly from the inn. Outside, the summer morning was bright and warm. She inhaled deeply, willing the scent of grass and wild rose to banish the ire burning through her.

  Their two coaches were ready and waiting in the yard. Amelia’s coachman, Horatio, stood speaking with Culley, while Egg leaned against Penn’s coach, eating an apple.

  Penn came from the inn, a basket in each hand. He frowned slightly as he approached her. “Are you sure you’re not angry? You looked angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” She tried to sound blithe. “I simply didn’t wish to come between you and Henrietta saying your good-byes.”

  After a flicker of surprise in the darkness of his eyes, they narrowed slightly. “What does that mean?”

  Amelia shrugged. “I thought you and she shared a special…connection.” She tried to keep the acid from her tone, but failed. How she hated sounding like a shrew.

  Understanding dawned in his features. “You saw… You’re jealous.”

  Apparently. “I am not.” She hated sounding like a liar even more.

  He smiled then, taking her off guard. “Henrietta does have a tendre for me, as it happens. I believe she has a bit of hero worship from the time I saved her all those years ago.” He shook his head. “I never knew. Last night, she kissed me. It was…awkward. I’m afraid I crushed her sensibilities. I felt terrible.”

  Now Amelia felt terrible. “I’m sorry to hear that happened. It’s just…”

  “I kissed you, then left abruptly.” He cocked his head to the side. “How did you happen to see me with Henrietta?”

  Heat rose up Amelia’s neck, and she hoped the blush didn’t spread to her face. She wasn’t going to tell him why she’d really opened her door again. He might not have been willfully kissing Miss Jessup, but the entire event had given Amelia more than enough reason to recall that their relationship was supposed to be
strictly professional. “I forgot to ask you about the plan to retrieve the dagger. I know we’re going to see your father for help regarding the White Book of Hergest, but how will that point us toward the dagger?”

  “That will depend on what we learn. You’ve reminded me that we should discuss how I will introduce you to my parents.”

  She blinked at him. “As your partner in recovering the dagger. How else would you introduce me?”

  “No other way.” He searched her gaze for a moment before handing her one of the baskets. “Here is your breakfast. Jessup tucked a small bottle of ale inside.”

  “How thoughtful of him.”

  “Are you sure you’re not angry? Or jealous?” The last seemed to carry a hopeful tone.

  “I assure you I am not. You are correct in that we were carried away last night, and we mustn’t let it happen again.”

  “I rather liked kissing you,” he said softly. “But I didn’t wish to take advantage.”

  “I appreciate your behavior. You’re a true gentleman, and I’m glad I can trust you.” She offered him a bright smile as a butterfly flitted over their heads. “As nice as kissing you has been, I think it best if we return to our original arrangement. We have an important objective, and we should be focused on that.” She sounded so convincing that she almost believed herself. And yet, a part of her, the romantic that had hoped for the grand love affair with her husband, sagged with disappointment.

  “As you wish,” he said, his tone now a mixture of disappointment and frustration. “We’ll be in Monmouth early this afternoon. Enjoy your journey.”

  “You too.” She turned and went to her coach and wondered if a return to their original arrangement was even possible. Despite what she’d said, she couldn’t help but think of his lips covering hers, his hands caressing her, his hips thrusting forward…

  Amelia opened her basket and found dark brown toast inside. A smile crept over her mouth as she realized only Penn could be responsible for that. Damn, she couldn’t even have her breakfast without him intruding.

  She took a large bite of the deliciously scorched bread. Best to keep herself occupied, or it was going to be a very long trip.

  Chapter 10

  The familiar face of his childhood home—well, part of his childhood—greeted Penn as his coach rumbled to a stop in the drive. His father called Hollyhaven a cottage, but it was rather larger than that. With its mullioned windows and ivy-covered stone, it was the most charming home Penn had ever seen. When he’d come to live here, he’d thought he’d been transported to a fairy tale.

  But then his father had been the real reason for that. Followed quickly by his mother, since they’d wed soon after his arrival. No matter how old he was or how far he traveled, he always looked forward to coming home.

  He didn’t wait for Egg to open the door before stepping out of the coach. Already, the door to the house opened to reveal his smiling mother, her honey-blonde hair still devoid of any white or gray.

  Instead of hastening to the entry, he went to Amelia’s coach. He didn’t care what she’d said that morning. She had been angry, and he was willing to wager she’d been jealous too.

  However, any pleasure he might have felt at her emotional response was tempered by her insistence that they return to their original arrangement—that of professional partners and nothing more.

  And why was he upset by that? He was the one who’d put an end to their embrace last night. He was the one who was terrified of settling down.

  Wait, terrified?

  Before he could answer that thought, Amelia’s coachman helped her down, beating Penn to the door. Penn awaited her descent and couldn’t help but think she was even lovelier now than she had been that morning. Blonde curls peeked from beneath the rim of her bonnet, and her green eyes shone like gemstones in the bright afternoon sun.

  He offered her his arm. “Come, I’ll introduce you to my parents.”

  Guiding her to the door, Penn saw that his father had joined his mother. Rhys Bowen was tall, dark eyed, and dark haired with the same dark Welsh complexion as Penn. They looked enough alike that no one questioned whether Penn was his blood son. Indeed, among the handful of people who knew the truth, most of them commented that Penn looked as though he was. Though Penn knew it was impossible, it still gave him comfort.

  Margery Bowen smiled broadly as they approached. “Penn, we’re so glad to see you.” Her gaze moved to Amelia. “Welcome.” She glanced toward her husband and murmured, “It seems our children keep bringing home members of the opposite sex…”

  Penn’s sister, Cate, had brought her now-husband, Lord Norris, here several weeks ago. Apparently, he’d assured the Bowens that his relationship with Cate was purely nonromantic. Clearly, that had been a lie. In this case, however, Penn could make the same claim and be assured that it was, at least right now, completely accurate.

  “Mother, Father, allow me to present Mrs. Amelia Gardiner Forrest.” Penn included her family name on purpose.

  As expected, Father’s brows arched with interest. “Gardiner? As in Jonathan Gardiner? Did your…grandfather, I would think, discover the Heart of Llanllwch?”

  She nodded. “He did, indeed.” She dipped a curtsey. “I’m pleased to meet you both.”

  “Come in, come in.” Mother stepped to the side and gestured for them to move into the coolness of the entry hall.

  “Would you prefer to rest, or can I tempt you to join us for tea in my study?” His father’s hopeful tone matched the anticipation in his gaze.

  Penn looked toward Amelia in question. He’d join his parents, but he wanted her to do as she pleased.

  She smiled at his parents. “Tea would be lovely.”

  Father led them into his study, which was situated just off the entry hall. It was a large room dominated by a long table that was always covered with books or manuscripts or odd ends of paper as his father completed translations.

  Amelia’s gaze roved the bookshelves climbing the walls, the ornate desk at the opposite end, and, of course, the table in the center. “My grandfather would have loved this,” she said softly, almost reverently.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know him, or I would have invited him to visit,” Father said. “We’ll sit over here for tea.” He indicated the furniture arranged in front of the window that faced the drive.

  Amelia didn’t immediately move to sit down. Instead, she surveyed a medieval manuscript that lay open on the table, its illuminations vividly striking.

  Father stood next to her. “This is from the fourteenth century.”

  “Is that Welsh?” she asked.

  “Medieval, yes,” Father said, flicking a glance toward Penn. “My son can translate it for you, if you like.”

  She darted a look at Penn, and he saw the question there. He gave an infinitesimal nod.

  “How wonderful to be able to read that.” Her tone was rather wistful. “I’m afraid I can only read and speak French.”

  “I have many French romances, if you’d care to read them,” Father offered. He was always keen to share his library. “It might be slightly challenging if they’re older, but Penn or I could help.”

  “You came here very quickly,” Mother said as she sat on the settee in front of the window.

  Confused, Penn blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

  Mother’s eyes showed a flash of surprise. “You didn’t receive our note?”

  “I did not.”

  Father turned from the table. “Ah, well, we can discuss that later. Penn, tell us what brings you and Mrs. Forrest here.” He smiled warmly at Amelia and waited for her to take a chair near the settee before sitting down beside his wife.

  Penn took the chair at the other end of the settee. “You’re aware that Jonathan Gardiner found the Heart of Llanllwch. He also found the dagger that counteracts it.”

  The anticipation in Father’s gaze heightened. “And you have it now?”

  “No, but I did.” Penn hated disappointing his f
ather. “It was stolen from us, and now we are on the hunt to recover it.”

  His mother looked between him and Amelia. “You both found it?” Her eyes narrowed perceptively. “How long have you been working together, and how did that come about?”

  The tea arrived then, and Mother dismissed the housekeeper immediately so they could continue their conversation.

  Penn exchanged a look with Amelia, whose eyes widened briefly. She had to be wondering if Penn planned to tell his parents that she’d threatened to shoot him. “We, uh, happened to stumble upon it at the same time.” That was true enough. “Her grandfather had asked her to find it, but unfortunately didn’t leave her with enough information. What he did was write a letter with the dagger’s location, which he sent to Carlton Burgess.”

  “Naturally, Burgess sent you to retrieve it,” Penn’s father said as he helped himself to a biscuit from the tray.

  “But who stole it?” his mother asked. “And I trust you’re all right?”

  “Yes, though Egg sustained a minor injury. Which Mrs. Forrest was kind enough to tend with a homemade salve. He’s fine now.”

  His mother looked at Amelia with a hint of admiration. “Thank you, Mrs. Forrest. Egg is dear to us, despite his sometimes sour demeanor.”

  “You were telling us who stole it,” Father prompted.

  Penn continued. “We aren’t certain, but I would wager it was the Camelot group. Septon insists it wasn’t the Order.”

  Penn’s father leaned back against the settee and stretched his arm out along the back behind Penn’s mother. “You’ve already seen Septon?”

  “We went there afterward. I wanted to consult his library.”

  “But not him?” his mother asked. Unlike her husband, she didn’t entirely trust Septon. Not since the Order had attacked them all those years ago.

  Penn shrugged. “His library usually provides the answers I need.”

  “In this case, Septon proved helpful,” Amelia said. “We were looking for the origin of the Ranulf and Hilaria story.”