Read A Lady of His Own for Free Online

head steadied. Grabbing up her skirt, she stepped past him. “No.”
    He exhaled through his teeth. “Penny.” He reached out and manacled her wrist.
    She halted and looked down at his long tanned fingers wrapped about her slender bones. “Don’t.”
    He sighed again and let her go. She started walking, then recalled the Essingtons and walked faster. He kept pace easily.
    “What could you possibly want from Mother Gibbs?”
    She glanced briefly at him. “Information.”
    A good enough answer to appease him, for all of six strides. “What did you learn?”
    “Nothing yet.”
    Another few steps. “How on earth did you—Lady Penelope Selborne of Wallingham Hall—make Mother Gibbs’s acquaintance?”
    She debated asking him how he—now Earl of Lostwithiel—knew of Mother Gibbs, but his response might be more than she wanted to know. “I met her through Granville.”
    He stopped. “ What? ”
    “No—I don’t mean he introduced me.” She kept walking; in two strides he was again by her side.
    “You’re not, I sincerely hope, going to tell me that Granville was so mullet-brained he frequented her establishment?”
    Mullet-brained? Perhaps he hadn’t met Mother Gibbs by way of her trade. “Not precisely.”
    Silence for another three steps. “Educate me—how does one imprecisely frequent a brothel?”
    She sighed. “He didn’t actually enter the place—he grew enamored of one of her girls and took to mooning about, following the poor girl and buying her trinkets, that sort of thing. When he started propping up the wall in the passageway, languishing—for all I know serenading—Mother Gibbs said enough. She sent word to me through our workers and the servants. We met in a field and she explained how Granville’s behavior was severely disrupting her business. The local fisherlads didn’t fancy slipping through her door with the local earl’s son looking on.”
    He muttered a derogatory appellation, then more clearly said, “I can see her point. So what did you do?”
    “I talked to Granville, of course.”
    She felt his glance. “And he listened?”
    “Regardless of what else he was, Granville wasn’t stupid.”
    “You mean he understood what would happen if you mentioned his habits to his mother.”
    Looking ahead, she smiled tightly. “As I said, he wasn’t stupid. He saw that point quite quickly.”
    “So Mother Gibbs owes you a favor, and you’ve asked her for information in return.”
    That, in a nutshell, was it—her morning’s endeavor.
    “You are not, I repeat not , going back there alone.”
    His voice had changed. She knew those tones. She didn’t bother arguing.
    He knew her too well to imagine that meant she’d agreed.
    A frustrated hiss from him confirmed that, but he let the matter slide, which made her wonder what he was planning.
    Regardless, they’d reached the High Street. She turned onto the wider pavement with Charles beside her.
    And came face to face with Nicholas, Viscount Arbry.
    She halted.
    Charles stopped beside her. He glanced at her face, noted the momentary blankness in her expression while she decided what tack to take.
    He looked at the man facing them. He’d also halted. One glance was enough to identify him as a gentleman of their class. No real emotion showed in his face, yet the impression Charles received was that he hadn’t expected to meet Penny, and if given the choice, would have preferred he hadn’t.
    “Good morning, cousin.” Penny nodded in cool, distinctly mild greeting; smoothly, she turned to him. “I don’t believe you’ve met. Allow me to introduce you.” She glanced at the other man. “Nicholas Selborne, Viscount Arbry—Charles St. Austell, Earl of Lostwithiel.”
    Arbry bowed; Charles nodded and offered his hand. While they shook hands, Penny said, “Nicholas is a distant cousin. His father is the Marquess of Amberly, who inherited Papa’s title and estates.”
    Which might explain her coolness, but not Arbry’s