“Regardless, we’ll need to avoid cornering Smythe while he has the boys with him.” Griselda met Penelope’s eyes. “When experienced burglars like him are on the streets, they keep their boys on leashes, so if we stumble upon Smythe on his way to a house, or from one, he’ll have hostages. And he’ll use them. He might not have been known as a killer before, but he smothered Jemmie’s mother, and went after Horry’s grandmother. If we corner him while he’s got the boys tied to him…”
Penelope grimaced. She flopped back on the sofa. “You’re right. Damn it. But we have to dosomethingto get those boys back!”
No one had any suggestion to make. Barnaby glanced around their small circle. While Penelope and Griselda were primarily focused on rescuing the boys, with foiling any burglaries a very secondary concern, the reverse was true for Stokes. For him, the burglaries posed a professional threat, not solely to him but to the entire police force; to him, rescuing the boys was part of preventing the burglaries and catching Alert.
For himself…Barnaby felt both needs keenly; he wanted to rescue the boys for Penelope’s and the boys’ sakes, wanted to foil Alert’s plans for Stokes and the police force in general. For the greater good of the general populace; for the first time, he could see himself more directly serving a wider cause. Could better appreciate what drove his father to give so much time to politics; for years he’d thought it merely an escape from his mother’s constant social round.
He stirred, and looked at Penelope. “Come—I’ll escort you home.” He glanced at the others. “For the moment, there’s nothing we can do. If anyone thinks of anything, or learns anything…”
Stokes rose as he did. “We’ll send out a bugle call.”
That evening, despite a great deal of inner railing, Penelope dutifully dressed in her best winter evening gown, an austere example of the modiste’s art in heavy silk the color of dark garnets, and accompanied her mother to dinner with Lord Montford.
His lordship was a reclusive gentleman and a great philanthropist. He’d expressed an interest in the Foundling House, and was keen to speak further with her and her mother; that was the principal reason for the dinner.
Shown into his lordship’s rooms off Piccadilly, she was greeted by Lord Montford, a rotund gentleman of genial good humor. She liked him instantly, replying to his polite inquiry into her health with genuine attention.
After greeting her mother, Lord Montford ushered them into his drawing room. “I believe you’re acquainted with my other guests.”
The twinkle in his eyes warned her an instant before she looked across the room and saw Barnaby uncoiling his long length from a chair. Lord and Lady Hancock were the only other guests; she and her mother knew them well.
Penelope was unsurprised when the older four gathered in a group, discussing children, grandchildren, and hunting, leaving her to Barnaby to entertain, and vice versa. She eyed him speculatively. “Have you known his lordship for long?”
He smiled. “He’s an old friend of the pater’s.” He looked down at her. “Do you do a lot of this? Talking to donors, soliciting funds?”
“Not usually. Portia handles most of the fund-raising—she’s good with people, as you put it, soliciting funds. But now she’s in the country, she’s landed me with these meetings, those held at this time of year. She’ll return to town for the Season next spring, and will take back the fund-raising reins then, but meanwhile”—she spread her hands—“here I am.”
Barnaby smiled. “You underestimate yourself. You can be very persuasive when you wish to be.” When she let her passion for her work show.
She glanced at Lord Montford. “Any hints?”
“Just be yourself.” He hesitated, then added, “He’s very shrewd—much more so than he appears.”
“I thought that might be the case.”
They joined the others as Montford’s butler announced that dinner was served. They went into the cozy dining room; despite the ambience created by costly furnishings, the room was conducive to more intimate, relaxed interaction. From the first, conversation flowed easily on all sides.
Penelope was seated at Lord Montford’s right, with Barnaby beside her. Lady Hancock was on Lord Montford’s other side, with Penelope’s mother at the end of the table, opposite their host, with Lord Hancock between the two ladies. The Hancocks were already donors to the Foundling House; they and Lady Calverton became engrossed in discussing other subjects—leaving Lord Montford free to interrogate Penelope about the Foundling House.
Barnaby sat back and watched her deal with Montford; she avoided the trap of answering his questions too lightly, instead giving him the benefit of her considerable intelligence—something Montford, no fool, responded to. Indeed, watching Montford grow increasingly fascinated—both with the Foundling House’s programs and Penelope and her role in them—he realized that being admitted into Penelope’s intellectual confidence was a subtle honor. She patently did not consider many people, men especially, to be up to her considerable mental weight.
The thought made him smile. He watched her unknowingly seduce Montford, who, although most likely aware of it, was perfectly happy to be seduced in such a way.
When dessert arrived, Montford, transparently satisfied with all he’d learned about the Foundling House, directed the conversation to the police force and the recent and pending political manuevers affecting it, effectively turning the spotlight on Barnaby.
Somewhat to his surprise, Penelope followed Montford’s lead, holding her own in what became an in-depth review of policing proposals, and the personalities and prejudices affecting the likely outcomes.
By the time they strolled back into the drawing room, they were engrossed. The topic carried them through the next hour, but after the tea had been served and consumed, the evening drew to a reluctant close.
Montford turned to Penelope. “My dear, I’ll send a draft to the house tomorrow, but in addition, once we all return in the new year I’d like to call on you and discuss further options. I prefer to fund specific programs—practical ones that will achieve long-term gains. I’d like to consider some educational and training programs—perhaps more innovative ones—for specific funding.”
Delighted, Penelope gave him her hand. “You will always be welcome at the Foundling House, my lord. I’ll give some thought to possible programs in the interim.”
Taking her hand in both of his, Montford patted it. “You—and your sisters, too—are a credit to your mother.” Releasing her hand, smiling sincerely, he looked at Barnaby. “I have to say I find it heartening to discover a young couple such as yourselves, from families and circumstances where you’ve never had to—and will never have to—worry about your next meal, so devoted to helping others less fortunate. You”—he nodded at Penelope—“through your work with the Foundling House. And you”—he turned his gaze on Barnaby—“through your work with the police, through solving crimes and apprehending criminals regardless of the cut of their coats.”
Smiling genially upon them, his next words were clearly intended as a benediction. “You make a remarkable couple—and I warn you, I fully expect to be invited to the wedding.”
“John?”
