Read Online Lady Penelope's Christmas Charade, a Regency Romance by Lilia Birney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lilia Birney
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and flatten herself against the wall. No one would see her, and she'd be out of the chill wind.
The door burst open, striking her on the arm as Pierce staggered out. "Ouch, you oaf," she cried through chattering teeth.
"Are you all right?" Pierce hissed. He grabbed her arm and rubbed it with a gentle touch.
She ignored the tingle that coursed through her being and snatched her arm away. "I am fine—or as well as can be expected having frozen to death out here. What took you so long?"
"I had to have a few drinks at least. Needed to make the appearance of getting drunk so I could come out here and get you. Had you worn the whore costume, you could have come in with me and stayed nice and toasty."
"And fended off drunken louts left and right. No thank you," she hissed. "I'd rather freeze out here and be a maid."
"The Ice Goddess in truth," he countered.
"That was rude." Her heart sank. Despite everything, h e still thought of her as he always had—as her ladyship, as the Ice God dess, remote and frigid, a frivolous female of s ociety. Had their few moments in the garden meant nothing? She would have to set him straight. "Moreover, you can stop calling me Lady Annand . As equal partners in this venture, I insist that you call me Penelope."
"Fine, fine. If it makes you happy, then I shall call you Penelope. Listen, we have business to attend to. We can discuss these other matters later." Pierce raked his hand through his blonde hair, ruffling it to make it look more disheveled. " Here is the plan. We are going up the back staircase. Follow me. Don't make a sound, and keep your head down. No one pays attention to servants, which is why your costume should help us make our destination unnoticed. Are you ready?"
Yes. S he was. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She nodded at him, her teeth chattering.
He opened the door and she followed him in, the warm air causing the blood to rush to her wind-frozen cheeks. His broad shoulders nearly touched both walls as they mounted the narrow staircase. As they reached the landing, Pierce put on quite a show, lurching forward and humming loudly as he wandered down the hall. She stayed a few decorous paces behind, hugging the wall as he bade her to do. A loud burst of singing rang down at the opposite end of the hall—a group of men, hundreds of them it sounded like, had launched into a bawdy song. She swallowed. Pierce was aiming straight for them. Could she make it through the group without being seen?
Pierce stepped back a few paces and grabbed Penelope, tossing her over his shoulder. She inhaled swiftly. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Trying to make it down the hall," he murmured. "Kick and flail a bit."
Pierce began to sing along with the group, and she pounded his back with her fists. As they neared the men, they sent up a rowdy cheer.
"That's the way to do it!"
"Good man, show her who's the master!"
Penelope closed her ears to the more colorful chants as Pierce shouldered by them, exaggerating his stagger a bit. "Thanks, lads!" he called. "Had my eye on this wench all night." He opened the last door on the right and swayed inside, dumping her unceremoniously on a large, soft bed draped in a plush, red velvet coverlet. She sat up and watched as he turned the key in the lock.
"Made it," he breathed.
Two young women sat in scarlet and gilt chairs, clad in almost nothing at all. Their sheer night rails left nothing to the imagination. Heated blood rushed to Penelope's cheeks . They also, very strangely, wore identical black masks. Their tresses, the color of rich warm brandy, tumbled down their backs.
"They didn't say nothing about no maid," one of the young women stated flatly. Behind the mask, her eyes widened. "Do you want three of us at once?"
"No, no." Penelope jumped up. "We're here to ask you about a friend of mine. She's vanished, and I can't find her. Perhaps you've heard of her? Her name is Cicely."
Pierce strode further into the room. "Allow me to
The door burst open, striking her on the arm as Pierce staggered out. "Ouch, you oaf," she cried through chattering teeth.
"Are you all right?" Pierce hissed. He grabbed her arm and rubbed it with a gentle touch.
She ignored the tingle that coursed through her being and snatched her arm away. "I am fine—or as well as can be expected having frozen to death out here. What took you so long?"
"I had to have a few drinks at least. Needed to make the appearance of getting drunk so I could come out here and get you. Had you worn the whore costume, you could have come in with me and stayed nice and toasty."
"And fended off drunken louts left and right. No thank you," she hissed. "I'd rather freeze out here and be a maid."
"The Ice Goddess in truth," he countered.
"That was rude." Her heart sank. Despite everything, h e still thought of her as he always had—as her ladyship, as the Ice God dess, remote and frigid, a frivolous female of s ociety. Had their few moments in the garden meant nothing? She would have to set him straight. "Moreover, you can stop calling me Lady Annand . As equal partners in this venture, I insist that you call me Penelope."
"Fine, fine. If it makes you happy, then I shall call you Penelope. Listen, we have business to attend to. We can discuss these other matters later." Pierce raked his hand through his blonde hair, ruffling it to make it look more disheveled. " Here is the plan. We are going up the back staircase. Follow me. Don't make a sound, and keep your head down. No one pays attention to servants, which is why your costume should help us make our destination unnoticed. Are you ready?"
Yes. S he was. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She nodded at him, her teeth chattering.
He opened the door and she followed him in, the warm air causing the blood to rush to her wind-frozen cheeks. His broad shoulders nearly touched both walls as they mounted the narrow staircase. As they reached the landing, Pierce put on quite a show, lurching forward and humming loudly as he wandered down the hall. She stayed a few decorous paces behind, hugging the wall as he bade her to do. A loud burst of singing rang down at the opposite end of the hall—a group of men, hundreds of them it sounded like, had launched into a bawdy song. She swallowed. Pierce was aiming straight for them. Could she make it through the group without being seen?
Pierce stepped back a few paces and grabbed Penelope, tossing her over his shoulder. She inhaled swiftly. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Trying to make it down the hall," he murmured. "Kick and flail a bit."
Pierce began to sing along with the group, and she pounded his back with her fists. As they neared the men, they sent up a rowdy cheer.
"That's the way to do it!"
"Good man, show her who's the master!"
Penelope closed her ears to the more colorful chants as Pierce shouldered by them, exaggerating his stagger a bit. "Thanks, lads!" he called. "Had my eye on this wench all night." He opened the last door on the right and swayed inside, dumping her unceremoniously on a large, soft bed draped in a plush, red velvet coverlet. She sat up and watched as he turned the key in the lock.
"Made it," he breathed.
Two young women sat in scarlet and gilt chairs, clad in almost nothing at all. Their sheer night rails left nothing to the imagination. Heated blood rushed to Penelope's cheeks . They also, very strangely, wore identical black masks. Their tresses, the color of rich warm brandy, tumbled down their backs.
"They didn't say nothing about no maid," one of the young women stated flatly. Behind the mask, her eyes widened. "Do you want three of us at once?"
"No, no." Penelope jumped up. "We're here to ask you about a friend of mine. She's vanished, and I can't find her. Perhaps you've heard of her? Her name is Cicely."
Pierce strode further into the room. "Allow me to
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