Chapter 11 – A Visit to the Groom

Stewart and Penn were in the main room of their hideout, standing by a table full of what Penn called their “tools of the trade,” and muttering over a list, when they heard a knock on the door. It was such an unexpected sound that both men fell silent, waiting to see if their ears had fooled them.

It sounded again. Five sharp raps as knuckles met the old wood.

Penn showed an exaggerated confused face to his associate. Stewart shrugged, his eyes wide, to demonstrate his equal befuddlement.

“Crisp,” Penn hissed.

The man seated at Penn’s elbow looked up. Penn nodded toward the door. Crisp put away the knife he’d been whittling with and made his way over to one of the spy holes the gang had carved into the front wall.

“It’s a woman!” Crisp said in a whisper calculated to travel only as far as it needed to.

“Dammit, Stewart!” Penn said.

“She’s not one of mine! We’ve got a job tonight. Do you think I’d send for a girl?”

“Nah. Definitely not one of his.” This was Jeremy. He’d claimed the other spy hole. “She might be lost.”

“How do you figure?” Crisp asked.

“Well, she doesn’t look like she belongs here, does she?”

“What?” Steward said.

“She looks too…nice.”

If anyone had been watching, they might have spotted the second when Penn’s face went slack. If they missed it, all they would have seen was the marvelous thief drawing himself up and clearing his throat.

“Gentlemen, I think this caller might be for me.”

There was the inevitable laughing and whistling, even if it was all done as quietly as possible.

“Sir,” Stewart said, trying not-too-hard to keep a straight face, “you knew we had a job.”

Penn turned to him. There wasn’t a trace of humor in his expression. “She isn’t supposed to be here. I don’t know how she found us.”

Stewart sobered. “I’ll get everyone in the tunnels. What do we take?”

Penn put a hand up by his head and flicked his wrist. “Nothing. Not yet. Make sure the boys are safe, then wait for me in the back.” He put down the list he was holding. “I’ll see what she wants.”

“Your office?”

Penn nodded. He straightened his vest and touched his collar, only to realize he wasn’t wearing a tie. As he made his lazy way toward the door, figures darted around him, lamps went out, and a rush of shadows fled from the front of the warehouse. By the time he put his hand on the door handle and turned around for one last check, there was no one in sight.

He opened the door.

It was funny how a rich woman could try to dress down, but even her most humble outfit gave her away. It was the cloth. It was too high quality. And the tailoring fit too well. He recognized her long before she raised her face enough for him to catch sight of her green eyes.

Ryce Penn smiled. “My darling Eleanor.”

To his delight, she blushed.

“Mr. Penn, I appreciate that you and I have an unusual acquaintanceship, but I have never given you leave to call me that, and I would prefer it if you would call me Lady Serrs.”

Penn put his foot out the door so he could peer at the shadows near the street lamps.

“I’m alone,” she said.

Ryce looked at her. “How did you get here?”

“I hired a cab to bring me to this area, then I walked the rest of the way.”

He caught sight of the dust and dirt on her long skirt. It was possible she was telling the truth. “Eleanor, beloved, I meant what I said when I offered to be of service to you, but I do believe I warned you I had other matters—”

“Please, Mr. Penn. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

It was then that he noticed she was trembling. It wasn’t as bad as it had been that morning—had it only been that morning?—but he could see her hands were shaking.

He bowed her inside, and with one last glance at the darkness, he shut the door.

She stood only a few feet inside. Her eyes roved over the room. It seemed like the natural amount of interest anyone would take when they were introduced into a new building. On the other hand, she’d managed to find him when he’d given her no clue to his whereabouts.

He cut off her view of the room by putting a hand on her shoulder and motioning to a rickety staircase nailed directly into the boards of the wall. “Shall we go up to my office?”

He grabbed one of the still-lit lamps and led the way. Once they were upstairs, Penn took her across the long landing and over to one of the back rooms. When he opened the door, she went inside.

“Your office?” she asked.

Penn finished shutting the door and brought the lamp around. He saw her nervous smile.

“I know,” he said, putting the lamp down on a nearby wooden box. “I’m afraid my luxurious accommodations won’t do your clothes any favors, but please feel free to take a seat on any pile of flour you want.”

Eleanor went over to a stack of four, twenty-five pound sacks and sat down with the same grace she used to seat herself on a velvet armchair.

Penn chose a taller column by the door and jumped so he could perch on it. He put his elbows on his knees and stared down at the woman in front of him. “Now! What can I do for you, my darling?”

“Mr. Penn”—she sounded exasperated—“I really must insist—”

“Uh-ah! How could I possibly address my fiancée so rigidly?” He smiled at her.

Eleanor watched him for a second, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the fight.

“I have to ask you a question,” she said. “It’s an important question, and I’d like your assurance that you’ll answer me honestly.”

Penn’s smile expanded to a grin. “That’s a bold thing to ask me. Would you trust the word of a thief?”

“You’re the only person who can answer this question, so your word is all I can ask for.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“I’m sorry, Ellie, but I don’t know if I can promise to tell you the truth. If I got into that kind of a habit, it could destroy me.”

“Did you send those invitations?”

Penn’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” The question came out with a laugh.

“Did you send out our wedding invitations?”

He laughed again. “You’re joking.”

But her eyes never wavered. His mirth bled away.

“No, Lady Serrs. I did not send out those invitations. And that’s the truth.”

Her perfect posture relaxed. She bowed her head and her eyes dropped. “I thought so,” she muttered. “The way you thanked me—you thought I had sent them, didn’t you?”

“Of course. Are you telling me you didn’t?”

“Why did you think I had?”

“Well, I knew I didn’t do it.”

“But why would I do something like that?”

“That’s the question I had to ask myself.”

“Did you come up with any answers?”

“I thought of several possibilities. The first was that it was a trap of some kind, invented by the police. But a little research proved that was unlikely.”

“Why?”

Penn arched his head forward. “Because you exist.” He relaxed. “That damned frog would never involve an innocent woman in one of his schemes. Besides, it somehow didn’t seem like him.”

Eleanor blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but who do you mean?”

“Detective Chief Inspector Lucas John Haley.”

“Why do you call him a frog?”

“Because he’s French.”

“He said his people are from the north.”

“His mother’s people are from the north. The other half of him came to us across the water. He spent most of his time over there, but he spent all his childhood summers here. Then he tore up his roots and dropped his unwelcome self on our lovely city.”

“You seem to know a lot about him, Mr. Penn.”

Penn gave her a faint nod, as if accepting a compliment. “Know your enemies, darling. Know them well.”

“But why would he move here?”

“To make my life a living hell!—as far as I can tell. Why are you smiling?”

Eleanor shook her head. “Never mind. But if it wasn’t a plot by Inspector Haley, why else would I send out those invitations?”

Penn folded his arms. “Another option was that you were an overenthusiastic admirer. It was quite a stunt! And it certainly got my attention.”

Ryce wasn’t so sure about those green eyes anymore. Every once in a while, he wondered if they were laughing at him.

“Do you deal with problems like that often?” she asked.

“You know, for all the society women that talk about wanting to meet me, they’re never quite as enthusiastic after they’ve discovered I’ve already enjoyed their acquaintance. But I had never robbed you, so I thought you might have dreamed up a romantic notion, and in your desperation…”

His voice trailed off. Eleanor had blushed again, but there was a pained expression that warned him she wasn’t only feeling embarrassed.

He continued, “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“You figured that out now?”