Kiss Me Lady One More Time Page 2

  He glanced over at her in surprise—and in complete sympathy. “Nor I.” Giving himself a little shake, he pushed away from the edge of the bridge. “But you don’t have to worry, do you? Your solitude will not last. You are friends with Lady Glory. I hear that she and Keswick mean to return to this area after their bridal trip. You will find yourself much occupied then, I’m sure.”

  “I hope to find myself occupied much sooner.” Breathing deeply, she faced him. “Lady Tensford tells me that you have come back because you hope to track down the man who struck you that night at the ball and stole away Tensford’s fossil.” She straightened her spine. “I would offer my help.”

  He took a half step back. “No. I . . . that is, thank you for your kind offer, but that won’t be necessary.”

  She reached for courage. “Mr. Sterne, I cannot help but feel partially responsible for what happened that evening. The timing . . .” She swallowed. “Any way you piece it together, the villain, whoever he is, must have struck you just after I left you.”

  That night, she’d rushed to tell him, when she’d realized what was happening. Her friend Lady Glory had asked her to request a particular song from the musicians because she meant to dance with Lord Keswick. Mr. Sterne had indeed understood the importance of such a thing, but very privately, she had to admit, it had also been an excuse to leave the ballroom and visit him alone in the parlor where he’d stood guard over Lord Tensford’s new fossil specimen.

  They had marveled over the brave step their friends were taking. His gaze had softened. Their eyes had met and held. There had been no thought to it. One moment they’d been celebrating and the next . . . she’d been in his arms.

  Her first kiss. Her first real kiss, because she would not count the smack on the lips that young Mr. James Lycett had stolen at the village fair when she was fifteen. James was her cousin, after all, and too close to count. And he’d kissed a dozen girls that day, if the local gossips were to be believed.

  No, Mr. Sterne’s had been a real kiss, one that made her tremble. Just the touch of his lips on hers, his hand on her waist and she’d been struck by primal, spicy heat and sweet cravings. It had been quick, a revelation . . . and it had left her wanting more.

  “The timing is irrelevant,” he said flatly. “You were a charming distraction, to be sure, but the fault is mine.”

  She blinked. “Distraction? You cannot mean . . . you don’t think that I had any part of that—”

  “No!” he interrupted. “Of course not.”

  “Then you must allow me to take part of the blame.”

  “No. I must not.” The warmth was draining out of him. She could feel it, see it slipping away.

  Watching him closely, Penelope grew very still. “Why not?” she asked. “Do you not believe that a woman would value honor, Mr. Sterne?”

  “No. I mean, yes. Of course, I believe in a woman’s honor. But it is not the same as a man’s. It cannot be.”

  “I assure you, it can.”

  He heard the serious note in her tone and stopped to meet her gaze. “Perhaps you are right,” he conceded. “But in this case, the freedom and the opportunity we have to pursue the matter are not equal.”

  “I fear you underestimate me, sir.”

  “I would not presume to do so.” He shook his head. “It’s less to do with you and more to do with the fact that this was no trifling crime.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “Your wound.” She shuddered. “There was so much blood.”

  “I meant that this theft was organized and planned ahead of time, although, yes, their willingness to do violence is also worrisome. Not for my sake, you must understand. It was Tensford who was truly wounded.” He turned away to look over the railing again. “He’s waited years to find a fossil of such magnitude and completion. Not only was he robbed of the specimen, but also of the acclaim he deserves for his dedication and scholarship. Not to mention the money promised from the sale to the British Museum.” His shoulders slumped. “He trusted me—and I failed him.”

  Penelope drew a deep breath. She was dealing with injured male pride here, and that was something that complicated matters with every species. She straightened her spine. She had her own pride, as well.

  “I will find the man who had the audacity to pull off such a theft, in the midst of a ball, no less,” Sterne said with determination. He was all purpose and fire, now. “I will restore Tensford’s property. I will reclaim my honor. It would be my privilege to restore yours, as well.”

  She smiled at him. Stepping closer, she took his hand between hers and patted it, gently. “You must worry over your own honor, Mr. Sterne, and allow me to worry over mine.”

  At his surprised look, her smile stretched wider. “Let’s plan to check in with each other soon? We can compare notes on our progress.”

  She took up her basket again and walked away, her spine straight and chin high. She could feel the weight of his stare between her shoulder blades.

  She had her answer—or at least a partial one. Mr. Sterne’s physical presence still called to her. Just standing next to him sent warmth curling into all of the secret places inside of her. But would he be good for her in the long run? It would depend. She was going to have to adjust her next few moves. His reaction would hopefully be illuminating.

  She mused over her plans and nodded to Lord Tensford when he passed her—and didn’t realize until she’d nearly made it home that she’d forgotten to go on to the village to deliver her gift of honey.

  * * *

  Sterne stood and watched her go. He was still standing there, lost in thought, when Tensford came down the lane.

  “I passed Miss Munroe,” the earl called. “Did you see her?”

  Sterne nodded.

  “Did you speak with her?” The earl watched him while he waited for an answer.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. We spoke.” He fell in with his friend and they set out for the village.

  Silence held for a bit. Sterne was recalling her dark hair, confined only by a dainty confection of a hat and wondering what percentage of ladies in England had lush, dark locks paired with such vivid green eyes. Not many, he would—

  “What did you speak of?” Tensford asked.

  “What?”

  “With Miss Munroe?”

  “Oh. Badgers.”

  “Badgers?” Tensford stopped walking. “You met a lively, lovely young lady, alone on a picturesque bridge, and you spoke of badgers?”

  “Well, yes.” Sterne frowned. “It was not just any young lady. You know Miss Munroe is interested in the natural sciences.”

  “So I recall.” Tensford fell silent as they entered the village and headed for the tavern. “Why have we come here again? We could be settled in the parlor with Hope and some of that fine brandy that Keswick sent.”

  “We could.” Sterne’s mouth twisted. “We likely will. But first, it’s time we had a serious discussion,” he insisted. “Privately. We might as well indulge in a pint of honeyed mead while we do it.” He held open the door to the Cock and Crown and ushered his reluctant friend in.

  “I’ve told you before, it’s not necessary.” Tensford entered with a sigh.

  “It’s entirely necessary,” Sterne began. He paused as Mr. Thomkins, the tavern keeper, approached.

  “Welcome, my lord. And welcome to ye, Mr. Sterne, for ’tis good to see ye back in the neighborhood. Come. I’ve a good table for ye, right near to the fire. The air has a bit of a chill tonight, don’t it?”

  They sat and Sterne took a second to savor the surprised pleasure he felt at his inclusion in the man’s warm reception. He’d visited Greystone Park often enough, it seemed, to be accepted as a regular and valued guest. Past experience had taught him not to take such gratifications for granted.

  The tavern keeper delivered two pints to their table and hesitated, a bit of anxiety showing in his wringing hands. “I’d be pleased, sirs, should ye allow me to introduce Mrs. Thomkins.” He beckoned a woman standing at the
end of the bar. “We’ve only just married, near on a fortnight ago.”

  Sterne and Tensford both stood as the woman approached. She had a cloud of brown hair, a fine figure and a smile on her face. The earl bowed as the introductions were made and her grin widened.

  “This is Veracity, my lord. She comes from over to Stonehouse.” Thomkins turned to his wife. “Veracity, these are Lord Tensford, of Greystone Park, and his friend, Mr. Sterne.”

  She bobbed a curtsy and focused her grin on Sterne. “Sterne? Such a harsh name for nice-looking gentleman! Ah, well. Not that a bit of it ain’t called for at times. My da’ was so stern he beat us everyday and twice on Sundays, for good measure. I only agreed to marry Mr. Thomkins here when he agreed to stick to one beating a week.”

  Behind her, Mr. Thomkins shook his head.

  “Well, now, it’s lovely to meet ye both,” she said brightly, “but I’ve chickens roasting, and must check them!” Curtsying again, she headed back toward the kitchens.

  “Don’t mind her stories, sirs,” Thomkins urged. “She does enjoy telling a tale, but she’s got a good heart.”

  “Your new wife seems a delight. Congratulations, Thomkins. I know Lady Tensford will be pleased to hear your news.”

  “Thank ye, sir. I’ll bring out a bit o’ seedcake.” He looked bemused. “We’ve got that sort o’ thing, now.”

  “Love is a strange and fascinating thing,” Sterne mused as the man retreated.

  “Mark my word, you’ll be next.” Tensford raised his glass in a toast.

  “Not likely,” Sterne snorted. “I’ve got a good deal more to accomplish before I plan to start the search for a wife.” He pushed away the image of Miss Munroe smiling up at him.

  “Plan all you like. Love will have its way with you on its own timetable, as it has done with so many of us.”

  “You only sound so smug because you and Keswick managed to scoop up the most amazing set of sisters in England.”

  “Hope would be both flattered and disappointed to hear you say so. She was under the impression that you had found someone to fascinate you.”

  Sterne took a long drink, hoping to hide the heightened beat of his pulse. He’d noticed a time or two, the countess bending a sharp eye on him and Miss Munroe. Lady Tensford was right. He’d been more than a little fascinated. He’d met the girl at Greystone Park, during a house party earlier this summer. He’d been struck at once. She was lovely—those slanted green eyes loomed large in her dainty face and over a decidedly pointed chin. And between them sat the most intriguing mouth—with a smaller top lip that sat like the lid of a jar atop a wider, lush bottom. He’d actually awoken from dreams of that mouth . . . Pair all of that loveliness with a nimble mind, varied interests and genuinely engaging conversation and it was as if she’d been made to tempt him.

  He’d thought of her often since, and his chest had tightened a little more each time. When he’d first glimpsed her this afternoon, the tightness had suddenly eased, as if a band around his ribs had snapped loose. He sighed. There was nothing to be done about it, unfortunately. He was in no position to seriously pursue a woman—and naught else either, until he shook this current burden off of his back, and off of his conscience.

  “I am fascinated at the prospect of finding the villain who stole your fossil,” he replied at last.

  Tensford shook his head. “I tell you again, we should just let it go. It’s a fool’s quest, and I’ve already been made to look a fool, thank you. I’ve no wish to compound the impression.”

  “I am the one who looks a buffoon, here. The fossil was stolen on my watch. You can only be faulted for trusting the wrong man.”

  “No one thinks such a thing. Least of all, me.”

  “You’ve searched for such a specimen for years. I know how happy you were to have found it at last. It’s an exciting time for such studies. Your name should be forever listed among the serious scholars and scientists in the field. You were wary, worried. You trusted me to stand guard over your discovery—and I failed you.”

  “You did not. A blow to the head struck you down from behind. Sterne—I want you to listen closely. I am sad to lose the fossil, it’s true. But I would have been devastated to lose you.”

  “You shall lose neither, for I won’t rest until you have it back.”

  “Don’t you have work of your own to focus on?” the earl asked. “I heard that you’ve had interest from several historical scholars on your comparison of old English folk customs and those in European villages.”

  “I have. We are talking of establishing our own journal, specializing in the study of historical and social customs. But the article they wish me to lead with will require a bit of travel, and I won’t go until this matter is solved.”

  Tensford sighed. “You are not going to give this up, are you?”

  “No.” Sterne wasn’t sure why he could not. It was more than the blow to his pride. Partly it was because he’d so often felt thwarted and frustrated in his own interests and studies, he hated to see Tensford set back in the same manner.

  Also, it was because Tensford had already overcome so many obstacles in his life—and Sterne despised being even part of another.

  That led to the heart of the matter, didn’t it? He’d so often been a disappointment to his family. His friends had been his salvation, the sturdy support he’d needed to grow into the man he wanted to be. He could not—would not—let any one of them down.

  “How do we go about it, then?” Tensford asked. “Anyone who attended the ball that night at Greystone might be a suspect.”

  “Actually, a great many of the attendees can be eliminated because they were known to be caught up in the spectacle of Keswick’s dance with Lady Glory. Whoever knocked me out, they accomplished it while the pair of them danced. But more than just attendance at the ball, we must think about who would be interested enough in such a specimen, and know enough about it, to make it both feasible and worth the trouble to commit the crime.” He watched his friend closely. “I know you don’t want to consider it, but you must admit that Stillwater is by far the most likely suspect.”

  Tensford shook his head. “He’s an old man.”

  “Yes, but whoever did this didn’t act alone. The theft must have been planned ahead. It must have taken several men working together to get something so large and heavy out of the house—and quickly, too.”

  “You are right. I don’t want to consider him. He was a friend of my father’s.”

  “And known to share your father’s interest in and knowledge about fossils. I’ve told you how he acted, coming in before dinner was over, examining the slab and the frame from all angles, asking all manner of questions I had no answers to. I thought my ignorance was the reason for his obvious frustration, but now I must wonder if my presence there was thwarting his plans.”

  Tensford took a long drink.

  “You’ve told me the story about the specimen you found as a child,” Sterne reminded him gently. “Your fish tail.”

  “My fish tale,” the earl sighed.

  “You endured a good bit of teasing over that incident. And I remember the particulars. You found the fossil. Excited, you went to fetch your father. Stillwater was with him and heard the details. Business delayed your father several hours, and by the time you both went to see it and remove it from the stone, the tail had vanished.”

  Tensford rubbed a temple. “It could have crumbled away, as my father theorized. But I searched the rubble. I searched the whole damned shoreline along that section of the river. I never found any pieces of it.”

  His face bleak, he glanced up at Sterne. “It’s another reason why I don’t want Stillwater to be the latest thief. The man’s notoriously territorial. He doesn’t let the locals cut across his property. No one’s been inside of his home for years. Most fossil enthusiasts cannot resist talking of their finds or showing off their collections, but Stillwater broods selfishly over his like a dragon over his hoard. He doesn’t care that othe
rs know what he has—only that he possesses what they do not.” He sighed. “If he’s taken the specimen, then we’ll never know it.”

  “We shall see,” Sterne said. “The man is not a complete recluse, you know. I’ve asked about and heard that he comes here at least every week or so. He orders a pint and a steak and kidney pie, and he gossips with Thomkins. He may not like his neighbors to know his business, but he’s keen to know anything of interest going on in their lives.”

  The earl’s eyes widened. “I did wonder how he knew we were organizing a fossil hunt for the house party. He angled for an invitation and I indulged him.” He frowned. “Do you think he’ll be in tonight?”

  “There’s no telling, but if he is, I’ll work my uncle’s name into the conversation.” Sterne’s uncle was one of the foremost experts in the fossil field. He’d spent many an evening, eyes glazed, while Tensford and his uncle waxed rhapsodic over bones and rocks. “I’ve never yet met an enthusiast who didn’t wish to discuss my uncle’s theories and his collection.”

  “Including me,” Tensford laughed. “But what if Stillwater doesn’t come in tonight?”

  Sterne set his jaw. “Then I will make an excuse to come in every night, until he does.”

  And if such a plan kept him out of the path of Miss Penelope Munroe, then so much the better.

  Chapter 2

  Penelope went straight to her room when she arrived home. Her family kept a late dinner hour, as neither of her parents wished to waste the summer’s evening light, so she had time to lock her door, sit at her writing desk and organize her thoughts.

  Her first goal was partially accomplished—but it had also become more complicated. Heavens, yes, but she did still find Mr. Sterne physically attractive. The blood in her veins quickened just recalling those shoulders, and his strong legs showcased in long, leather boots. But she had to admit, his refusal to accept her help was problematic. Perhaps he was not so open-minded as she’d thought. Perhaps, like so many men, he believed women should keep quiet and in the background of life.