The Baron's Blunder Page 3

  “Balderdash and fiddlesticks. Flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

  Her right dimple told a different story. “Shall we be off?” He extended his arm.

  “Yes. Let’s.” She threaded her arm through his as they departed the room and the house. She kept a steady energetic pace. “How did you know I missed my country walks?”

  “A woman who outrides her grooms must certainly enjoy a walk now and then, as well.”

  “How astute of you.”

  “Simple deduction, ’tis all.”

  “Any others you care to share?”

  “Deductions?”

  “But of course.”

  They entered the park. Charles scanned the area. The area was large and, at this time of the morning, few people were about. “I deduce you enjoy verbal sparring as much as wielding a gun if not more so. It makes me wonder what other weapons you are skilled at.”

  “You consider my tongue a weapon?”

  “Saint James thought so when he wrote, didn’t he?”

  “No. He highlighted its danger in comparing its difficulty to be bridled like a horse, but also its power like a small flame setting a forest afire.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “Psalm 57:4 refers to the tongue as sharp as a sword.”

  “So it was King David, not James.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You are a well-read woman.”

  She peeked up at him with a sly smile from under her bonnet. “You are a well-read gentleman.”

  “But I had it wrong.”

  “An error you conceded—which is rare. Rarer still is that you knew enough about James to even consider it as a conversational gambit.”

  Charles grinned. “My faith is important to me.”

  “As it is to me. Too bad I shall never marry, or you would be a target of considerable effort to seduce into proposing.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Seduce? Provocative language for a lady.”

  “I find it interesting to note you chose my words to question and not my decision to avoid the wedded state.”

  “Since I too have no desire to wed, why would I quibble with you about that?”

  She stopped and turned toward him, scrutinizing his face. “You are a mystery. While I understand your desire to avoid the parson’s mousetrap, most men, my brother included, are more than eager to argue the importance of me giving up my independence for such a noose.”

  “A noose? What a twisted view you have of marriage.” He turned to walk.

  They were no longer connected by their arms.

  “Not really. My parents loved each other, and since that is not what most seek on the marriage mart, why bother engaging a man’s superficial affections when their professed love is often more for my purse than my person?”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Are you wealthy in your own right?”

  “I am well-enough for some to seek to entrap me.”

  “And none succeed?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “If I have my way, none ever will.”

  “Why engage me for a walk if not to woo me?”

  “I found our first encounter stimulating and desired for more of that kind of conversation. London can be full of fops and sycophants. You, however, are genuine and don’t seek to be falsely charming. I find that refreshing.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “I appreciate the compliment. The same could be said for you. We are a well-matched pair, are we not?”

  “Now you make us sound like horses up for sale.”

  She laughed, a light, tinkling music that rivaled the birds’ joyous choruses.

  They approached a bench. “Would you care to sit for a few minutes?” he asked.

  Henrietta nodded and they sat with an appropriate distance between them.

  “Your aunt allowed you to come without a maid.”

  “I brought my pistol, and my reputation is well-established. She didn’t fear you would compromise me in broad daylight.”

  “It’s unusual.” He reached his free hand down to the side of the bench and under and pulled out a piece of paper shoved in there. He surreptitiously inserted it in his vest pocket. His companion inspected the flora close by.

  “Someone tends these flowers exceptionally well,” she commented.

  “I would expect so. Yet as often as I have walked in these and other gardens around the city I’ve yet to observe those individuals.”

  “Perhaps they are fairies only working at night.” She smirked as she glanced at him.

  He shook his head and turned toward her. “Could you possibly be serious? That’s ludicrous.”

  “No gentleman would challenge that assertion. You are certainly an exception to the normal London mode. Well, except for my brother’s friend, Sir Tidley. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly either.”

  “He is a friend of yours as well?”

  “Michael grew up near Rose Hill, so he was one of Marcus’s closest acquaintances for many years.”

  “I’ve met Sir Tidley. An admirable man.”

  “Some would disagree.”

  “They do not know the man, do they?” He gave her a grin. “Ready to walk some more?”

  She nodded as he helped her rise.

  ~*~

  Giddiness was not an emotion common to her and Henrietta wasn’t sure what to make of it. The banter between them was invigorating, and pleased her immensely. Too bad she wasn’t interested. Charles Percy’s touch sent unusual warmth throughout her body. His appearance was generally pleasing as well. She was a tall woman, yet he topped her, but not by too much.

  She’d observed the paper he’d tried to hide, and it made her wonder if their walk was a cover for other nefarious purposes. She didn’t suspect him of being a traitor, though. Not if he was acquainted with Sir Michael Tidley. The knight, however, did not recall Mr. Percy.

  Perplexing.

  In spite of the sparse population at the park, she sensed someone following them. She turned to look behind her. No one was there.

  “Is everything all right?” Charles asked.

  “It’s nothing. I suspected we were being followed. Silly of me, I’m sure.”

  “Silly is the farthest thing from my imagination to use in regard to you and your cognitive powers.” He stopped, and glanced around behind.

  A figure emerged ahead and to the side, cast in dark clothing and cap, his face masked. He grabbed Mr. Percy around the neck. The walking stick fell to the ground and the attacker reached into her companion’s front vest pocket. “Where is it?” a gravelly voice asked.

  “Where is what? My pocket watch? I left it at home.” Charles struggled to be free. His face was turning crimson.

  Henrietta withdrew her gun and pointed it at the ruffian. “I daresay you will unhand him, or I’ll put a bullet through your brainbox, although I suspect it’s quite empty.”

  The man scoffed. “Little thing like you?”

  She pulled the trigger, and the man’s hat flew off. “I’m an excellent shot and a tad bloodthirsty. Care to test me again?”

  The man released Mr. Percy and ran away.

  “Shall I kill him anyway?”

  “No. No need for either of us to hang for his death.” He rubbed his neck. “I’m grateful for your timely assist.” He patted his pocket and reached inside, brows scrunched. “Huh. It was there.”

  “You mean this?” Henri handed him the piece of paper.

  He gingerly took it from her hands. He flipped it open and immediately closed it again, this time putting it in his trouser pocket. “How?”

  “I don’t need to share all my secrets.”

  “You have my sincerest gratitude. How fortuitous that the lack of people in the park this morning helps us avoid unwanted attention or scandal.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Perhaps we should head back before anyone else makes another attempt?”

  He nodded and bent to pick up his walking stick. He opened the top, revealing a short
sword. “Much good this did me.” He slid it back in and they resumed strolling on the path.

  “I get the impression you do not often find yourself taken by surprise.”

  “Perhaps a beautiful woman has dulled my senses.”

  “I’d prefer to think I sharpened them. Are you well? He didn’t seriously wound you, did he?” Her hand touched his sleeve.

  Mr. Percy shook his head. “No, but not for trying. I’m a fool. That should have never happened. How did you even…?”

  “I’m more perceptive than the average miss and have excellent peripheral vision.”

  “I’d say so. And you’ll not question me about the paper or the man?”

  “No need. I surmise you do some secretive work, and I can respect and keep that confidence lest it endangers my king and country.” She tapped her reticule where her gun had returned in order to remind him she was not defenseless.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll not speak of this again. I must say though, Mr. Percy, our walk this morning has been invigorating and enlightening in more ways than one.”

  He chuckled. “Agreed.”

  The rest of the journey to her house was made in comfortable silence.

  She noted he kept a sharp eye on the surroundings. Walking her up the stairs he bowed as he made to leave her door. “Are you sure you will be safe walking home? I could have a footman accompany you.”

  Her concern for his safety must have caught him off guard. He stopped abruptly and turned to her. “I’m not heading home at the moment but I suspect I’ll be safe enough for the nonce.”

  “Thank you for the outing.”

  “You are most welcome. And again, my sincere gratitude for your timely assist.”

  She grinned. “You’re welcome. Good day, Mr. Percy.”

  He strode down the steps as Edwards closed the door.

  Henri sighed as she untied her bonnet and ran up to her room. She tossed the headwear onto the chair and plopped onto another to kick off her shoes and then tuck her legs up underneath her. Not ladylike, but she could do as she wished in the privacy of her own sitting room.

  Mr. Percy was becoming a puzzle she was closer to solving. Well-educated, handsome, and she suspected well able to have overcome the attack had a lady not been present. She recalled the widened eyes of the ruffian when the cap blew off his head. Mr. Percy had appeared surprised too, but then a bullet did whiz past his ear. Now he knew she was a crack shot, and it wasn’t a bluff.

  She’d seek out Lord Hughes at the ball tonight. She’d ask him about Mr. Percy, although in that setting he might not confirm or deny whether the man worked for the government any more than he would reveal her role to anyone. What a pair they certainly were, Mr. Percy and herself.

  She couldn’t stop grinning.

  ~*~

  After catching a hackney, Charles had the driver drop him off a few blocks from Whitehall and walked the rest of the way. He didn’t have an appointment but the paper should be delivered immediately, and a confession made to this morning’s blunder. Embarrassment warred with admiration for Miss Allendale.

  “Lord Hughes, please?” Charles asked the secretary. He set his hat aside on a chair.

  “Certainly. Wait here, and I’ll inform him you’ve arrived.”

  Charles paced the floor. The door opened again and the secretary bid him enter.

  He gave him a nod before entering an office with windows, and a large desk. An imposing man stood to greet him.

  “Charles? I wasn’t expecting to see you today. How did your trip go?” After shaking hands he sat down and motioned for Charles to do likewise.

  “Futile. However, I picked up a message this morning that Sir Tidley asked me to intercept. I was attacked. I believe the young lady I was walking with suspects my ‘hobby.’”

  “You mean she no longer believes you to only be a man of property and leisure?”

  He nodded. “That would be correct. A point in fact, she saved me and the message.”

  The older man’s eyebrows rose. “Did she now? Tell me all.”

  Charles began to spill his tale when Lord Hughes interrupted him.

  “Miss Henrietta Allendale?”

  “Are you suggesting there are more of them? Yes, her.”

  Lord Hughes frowned. “Continue.”

  When Charles finished, he pulled out the paper and handed it over.

  Lord Hughes perused the contents. The man looked up and frowned.

  “You say she believes you to be Mr. Percy? Why?”

  “I didn’t realize who she was when I met her, and figured I’d depress any intentions of her seeking my hand in marriage.”

  “Happens too often? It’s a terrible burden to be wealthy, handsome, and titled, is it not?”

  Charles grinned. “A burden I gladly bear.”

  “And use to our advantage, for which I am grateful. But you will likely run into this young woman at some ball or another. What then?”

  “I’ve no clue. I’ve been out of the city for much of the past season but do need to mingle to continue to glean information.”

  “You do not want Miss Allendale to become your enemy.”

  “Certainly not! She’s a crack shot.”

  Lord Hughes laughed. “I can guarantee she won’t be carrying a gun to the balls and other social events.”

  “I’ll try to be careful.”

  “I fear your lie will cause you trouble.”

  Charles shrugged. “Whether I continue on for you won’t be impacted either way.”

  “Only your standing amongst the beau monde.”

  “Handsome, wealthy, and titled gentlemen are always welcome, sometimes even more so after they’ve faced disgrace.”

  “It’s your reputation, but tread carefully with Miss Allendale.”

  Charles frowned, and his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because she’s one of my best informants, and I will not have you trifle with her. It’s not just Lord Remington you would need to deal with, but me as well.”

  “I would never do anything to harm her.”

  “Being seen with you might have already done that. Keep an eye out for her. She may have courted danger by her actions.”

  Charles left, and upon arriving at his house in town he went to his study and slumped into his favorite chair. He recalled the morning and the conversation with the beautiful Henrietta. In spite of all the troubles, he smiled. Too bad he wasn’t in a position to protect her. And she was a spy like he. But of course that’s who would attract him. Better to stay away from her completely; although, he suspected to do so would be easier planned than executed.

  5

  That evening at the Hollister house, Henrietta engaged in fending off unwanted suitors while occasionally dancing. She preferred to listen to the gossip going around, in the event something useful might be passed on to Lord Hughes. When he approached for a dance, she acquiesced with modest grace.

  “A pleasure to see you here tonight, Miss Allendale. I hear you’ve had a few adventures recently. Taking up shooting practice in town?”

  He wove her through the throng of dancers as the music rose and fell around them from the orchestra on the dais at one end of the ballroom.

  “I did what was required for the circumstances. You’ve spoken to Mr. Percy, I assume.”

  “Any news for me?”

  She grinned. His refusal to confirm or deny her statement spoke volumes. So Mr. Percy was one of the good guys and, if she wasn’t mistaken, much like herself in the work she did as a hobby to pass the time in London. It saved her from being bored to tears at most of the tittle-tattle that qualified as intellectual discourse amongst the ton. She shared a few bits of news she thought were relevant.

  He nodded but gave no other indication of whether it was what he needed. At times she feared he was merely entertaining her whim for adventure and that her work wasn’t truly of use. But she’d show him that wasn’t the case.

  The music drew to an end, and h
e leaned over her hand as she curtseyed. He escorted her back to her aunt. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Hughes.”

  “Always a delight, Miss Allendale.” He bowed and turned to depart.

  “Lord Hughes is quite attentive to you,” Lady Grey stated.

  “True, but he is a married man. It is sad that his wife is ill and cannot accompany him anymore.”

  “You haven’t formed a tendre for him, have you?”

  “But of course not. Married men are far safer to dance with. There is no fear they will seek to compromise a lady.”

  “Perhaps, but there are some…” her aunt cautioned.

  “Balderdash and fiddlesticks. I know how to spot a rogue dressed in fine feathers.”

  Lady Grey grinned and shook her head. “I think you are a headstrong woman, my dear.”

  “And what if I am? It brought a smile to your face and livened our evening, did it not?”

  “True. Do you mean to stay longer?”

  “Are you fatigued? I do not mind if we leave early.” She looked to her aunt who was seated next to her, dressed in plum. One of her demure gowns, for typically Aunt Doro was a tad more outlandish in the colors she chose merely to mock the tedium of what society deemed fashionable. Her own little form of rebellion. Probably one of the reasons they rubbed along together so well.

  “Yes, I think departing would behoove us.” Lady Grey rose.

  They made their way toward the front hall to call for their carriage.

  As they traversed the crowds, Henri sensed a tug on her reticule. She held it tighter to herself and glanced around but could not tell who might have come close enough. Curious.

  The ride home was quiet with the exception of the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves and sound of the wheels on the road.

  Once she was back to her room she opened up her purse and discovered a note therein.

  I want what is mine. Deliver it at Wilmington’s in the garden by the marble statue of two lovers.

  Oh, dear. What was this? Who sent it? She grinned. Perhaps this was her opportunity to prove her value to Lord Hughes. Too bad it was poor form to pack her gun in her reticule to attend a soirée. Her wits served her well in the past. What was it that Mr. Percy said about the tongue being wielded like a sword? And she had God.