Lady Penelope's Christmas Charade, a Regency Romance Read Online Free Page A

She had made notes of her interviews in a tidy, easily-read script. He scanned the foolscap and glanced back up at her. "This is very good work, your ladyship."
    "Thank you," she replied with a devastating smile.
    "As I said, I will work for nothing. I am happy to help you find your missing servant. If you will give me a description, then I will use these notes and her likeness to begin tracking her down." He smoothed out the foolscap and searched for a quill in his desk drawer.
    "Cicely is of medium height, with brown eyes and black hair. She is about twenty years old. She does have a birthmark on her left arm. Does that help?"
    He scribbled down some notes. "Yes, it does."
    "But I must insist on payment of some kind," she rejoined. "After all, it's not fair to ask you to work for free. Moreover, I would like to help you. May I come along on some of your interviews?"
    "Absolutely not," he responded. "It could be far too dangerous, and I cannot guarantee your safety."
    "That's no bother," she replied airily. "My husband taught me to shoot a pistol."
    A potent mixture of emotions swirled inside of Pierce. A desire to be close to Lady Annand , a desire to know her better, and a desire to put her in her place all fought for primacy. She was delectable and alluring and infuriating all at once.
    "If you come with me, I cannot agree to payment. We will work together. I am no longer your employee and need no longer answer to you. If, on the other hand, you agree to stay out of it and let me follow my methods, then you may pay me whatever you see fit. You must choose, your ladyship."
    Was that a flicker of apprehension that crossed her face? Surely not. She smiled regally and extended her hand. "Very well, Mr. Howe. Consider this a partnership."
    ***
    Penelope swayed slightly in her seat, gazing thoughtfully at her new partner. Heavens, the carriage was going a bit fast, wasn't it? Surely it wasn't her nerves. She had agreed to this crazy scheme—had formulated it herself, in fact. So there was no need to be missish about it, for it was her idea. She smiled apologetically at Pierce. "I apologize, sir. Sometimes my driver is a bit, well, hasty."
    "Not at all." He lounged against the bench, his legs sprawled out casually. "As yo u know, I find it most astonishing that we are taking your carriage at all, ma'am."
    "Oh, bother! We aren't going to go over this again, are we? My coach was there, waiting in front of your office. You said we needed to go meet an informan t. Surely you will admit this was the most practical thing to do, given the situation." Penelope sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. They had already argued about the matter. And she had won, after all. It was poor form of him to still be angry about it.
    "In future," he replied, a dark tone creeping into his voice, "I would prefer to hire a hackney."
    "Whatever for?" she exploded. "They're expensive, and untidy, and many of them smell quite awful."
    "True," he snapped. "But they are also unremarkable. Untraceable. Your carriage, and your servants for that matter, could easily be recognized, especially if we continue to sleuth together."
    Penelope smiled, forgiveness lighting her heart aglow. He had just said there would be more such occasions. And he had explained matters to her fairly, not as though she were a reca lcitrant child. "I am sorry, Mr. Howe . You are right, of course. Next time, we will hire a hack. And I shall look on it as an adventure."
    He blinked as though taken aback by her sudden change of attitude. "Very well."
    She smoothed her skirts out over her lap. "Now, tell me. Where are we going?"
    The corner of his mouth quirked downward. "I am going to question a few stable lads who work at the Gilded Lily."
    "Stable lads? Do you think one of them was Cicely's beau?" She leaned forward in excited anticipation. Her heart was even beating faster. Heavens, this was much more stimulating than going about in society as Viscount Annand's bereaved