Penelope had parted from her mother, and was speaking with Lord Barford when Barnaby appeared beside her. Surprised, pleased, she gave him her hand. He greeted her suavely, then, tucking her hand in his arm, smiled at Lord Barford and asked him how his hunters were faring; his lordship was a keen rider to hounds.
In parting, his lordship assured her the Foundling House could count on his continuing support. “Don’t forget to remember me to your brother, m’dear. Best hound I ever had, the bitch I got from him.”
Smiling in reply, Penelope allowed Barnaby to steer her toward the next group. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She glanced up at him.
The smile in his eyes warmed her. “M’father’s left town. I often stand in for him at gatherings such as this, especially when it’s to do with the police force, rather than his other concerns.”
“Your eldest brother isn’t interested in politics?”
“Not of the sort that involves the police. But anyway, both the other two, along with their wives, and my sister and her husband, are already at Cothelstone.”
She thought about that as they chatted briefly with Mrs. Worley. When they moved on, she said, “Your mother must be expecting you home. Will you be leaving town soon?”
He nodded to Lady Wishdale, an urbane smile on his lips. “That depends.”
“On our investigation?”
He met her eyes. “In part.” He hesitated, then added, “On that, and on when you depart.”
Their gazes locked—then Penelope was forced to look forward as Lady Parkdale swept up to them.
“My dears!” her ladyship exclaimed. “Solovelyto see you both.”
As for all her gossipy avidity, Lady Parkdale was a major donor to the Foundling House, and Penelope bore with her dramatic utterances and arch glances with good grace.
“At least she’s never malicious,” Barnaby murmured as, having parted from her exuberant ladyship, they moved on.
Penelope smiled in companionable understanding.
Barnaby continued to steer her around the guests, continued to stand by her side and field questions from the men about Peel’s force and its workings. He knew everyone there, the ladies as well as the gentlemen; for all it masqueraded as a social gathering, the evening was, at its core, a serious affair.
In truth, he found such “entertainments” more to his liking than purely frivolous events; as he guided Penelope from one group to the next, he got the distinct impression that in that—as in so many things—they were as one.
Both of them were socially adept, and had more than enough wit to hold their own in the most demanding circles. And both preferred to have to use said wits while conversing; they enjoyed the challenge, the weightier repartee that in this setting, in this company, was the accepted norm.
He seized a moment between groups to tell her of their day’s endeavors, and Stokes’s subsequent decision to request permission to put more constables on the beat in Mayfair. “Unfortunately, Stokes holds out little hope. Equally unfortunately, learning the financial status of gentlemen isn’t something that can be accomplished in a few days.”
She was frowning. “There’s that man the Cynsters and my brother use whenever they need to do financial investigations.”
“Montague. I saw him this afternoon. He’s agreed to learn what he can about the gentlemen on our list, but until we narrow the field, it’s not feasible to do any in-depth searching.”
“Hmm.” He’d told her the names on their list. She shook her head. “I must admit I’ve never met any of them—but if they’re in the habit of frequenting gambling hells, our paths would be unlikely to cross.”
He thought of her in a gambling hell, and made no reply.
When they went in to dinner, he sent a special smile his hostess’s way on discovering he and Penelope were paired. They sat side by side and traded quips and pointed banter in between entertaining their other partners. At one point, glancing up the table, he caught Lady Calverton’s eye. Smiling in patent approval, Penelope’s mother raised her glass to him in an unobtrusive toast.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment, then lifted his own glass. Under cover of taking a sip, he glanced at Penelope—and wondered if she, like he, saw just how very compatible they were.
Too soon, the ladies rose and left the gentlemen to pass the port and discuss the state of the nation—the bills that hadn’t made it through Parliament during the autumn session, and the expectations for the legislative calendar in the coming year.
Penelope took the opportunity of the gentlemen’s absence to speak with all the ladies who, as administrator of the Foundling House, she should. Some were donors in their own right, while others were responsible for arranging their husband’s generosity. Still others were valuable contacts in other respects, such as Lady Paignton, patroness of a service—the Athena Agency—that placed young women as maids, governesses, and the like in ton households. The agency was much patronized by the matrons of the haut ton. As many of the Foundling House’s female charges left to make their way as maids of one sort or another, Penelope had known Lady Paignton for years.
An attractive matron with dark red hair, Lady Paignton smiled as Penelope joined her. “My husband is no doubt grilling Mr. Adair about this latest initiative of Peel’s. Now we’ve taken to spending so much time in the country, he’s taking his role as magistrate very seriously. There’s been talk, I gather, of setting up constables and watch houses in the larger towns.”
“So I believe.” The Paigntons had four children, two boys and two girls. Penelope said, “I met your eldest daughter a few weeks ago. I gather she takes an active interest in the agency.”
“Indeed.” Lady Paignton smiled fondly. “She’s determined to eventually take over the reins. Quite gratifying, really…ah, here come the men, back at last.” Her ladyship met Penelope’s eyes. “Do tell your people to continue to send any girls they deem suitable our way. We’ve been very happy with the girls the house has sent us.”
