If He's Sinful. Hannah Howell

I had forgotten about that. My cousin Orion put it up.” And she intended to kick him soundly for that the next time she saw him. “His idea of a little jest. It was either that or the BY-BLOW BUNGALOW.”

      Ashton did not know whether to be shocked or to laugh, and noticed his friends suffering the same torn sentiments. “This is where your family houses its…” He hesitated, struggling for the right word, one that would not cause insult, and then noticed that she had the glint of mischief in her eyes that he had seen in young Paul’s.

      “Naturals?” she said and grinned when Ashton’s friends laughed. Even Ashton smiled. “Aye, it is, but it was not exactly planned that way. I fear my father was not faithful to my mother, hence Artemis and Stefan. When Mama married again, her new husband refused to house the boys, a refusal made only after the marriage was done, of course. My mother did not have the will or, mayhap, the true desire to fight the man on the matter and so Aunt Olympia gave me this house. It was sitting empty, you see, for it was no longer in an area that people considered completely respectable. I moved my brothers into this house. Then, one by one, the others began to arrive, starting with Darius, Uncle Argus’s boy by a mistress who decided to get married and could not take the child with her. Argus bought this house from Olympia and signed it over to my brothers, and me, with himself as tentative head of the household until I come of age. There are ten boys here now and their fathers do their best to help with the money needed to raise them.”

      “Should they not be at school?”

      “They attend when there is the money to send them but a tutor is usually all that can be afforded.”

      “And you live here? Is that why I have not seen you at Hutton-Moore House?”

      “Nay, I do not live here. Charles and Clarissa do not know about this house as far as I know. I come here when I can. Fortunately, that is quite often. Until I am five and twenty I must stay with the Hutton-Moores.”

      Penelope decided the men did not need to know that she stayed because she feared it was the only way to be certain she could still claim that house when it legally became hers. Nor did they need to know that the will said when she was five and twenty or married. As far as she knew, the house her stepbrother and sister claimed for themselves was all that was left of the riches her mother had brought to her second marriage. There was still a chance she could lose that, too, and be left with nothing more than a tiny annuity, but she held out the stubborn hope that Charles could not actually steal that away as she suspected he had stolen everything else.

      “You still have not answered the question as to why I have never seen you there,” Ashton pressed.

      “S’truth, none of us can recall seeing you anywhere,” added Lord Mallam. “At not one society function.”

      “Have never even heard you mentioned of by the Hutton-Moores,” said Baron Fisherton. “Yet you are a Hutton-Moore.”

      “Only in name,” Penelope said, realizing that these men had obviously gone ahunting for information about her. “Only because the old baron felt it would make it easier for him to get his hands on all my father left behind if he adopted me. The pretense that I was one of them died a swift death when the old baron and my mother were buried. I was banished to the attics and nearly forgotten. That is why I can come here so often and no one knows. Or cares. As long as I keep out of sight, they do not trouble themselves with me. I rather prefer that arrangement now.”

      She smiled faintly when she saw how shocked the men looked. “I keep informed of all that is going on in my house through a few of the servants and, I blush to admit, eavesdropping. The house has a great many little nooks and passages the Hutton-Moores know nothing about. For reasons she never explained to me, my mother never told her husband about them and ordered me to keep them secret as well.”

      “And that is how you learned I was betrothed to Clarissa or from the paper?” asked Ashton.

      “From Charles and Clarissa, but I did not really have to eavesdrop to learn that. Things got quite, er, loud after you left the house this morning, Lord Radmoor.” And the anger of her stepsiblings had so filled the air she had felt choked by it, but that was not something she could tell these men.

      Ashton grimaced and then stared at her in surprise. “You knew who I was that night.”

      “I did.” She struggled to subdue a blush but a slight heat in her cheeks told her she was only partly successful.

      “Nick me! Why did you not say something?”

      “That potion did rather dull my wits, m’lord, and I did make a fumbling effort to explain.” She frowned. “Are you here because you fear I will tell Clarissa about what happened that night?” Penelope was almost certain that Clarissa knew what had happened to her, all except for the fact that Radmoor would be the man sent to her. It was Charles’s part in it all that she was not yet certain of.

      “No, I…” Ashton rubbed a hand over his neatly queued hair. “I am not sure why I have come. To apologize?” He sighed when she shook her head and murmured, “no need.” “No? I was somewhat condescending when you tried to tell me what had happened to you. In truth, I think it was the shock of finding out who you are and hoping you would prove my butler wrong that brought me hying over here. My butler was the one who gave us the information on the Wherlockes,” he explained when she looked at him in confusion. “Do you know how, or rather, why you ended up there?”

      “To begin with, I walked home from here at a later hour than usual, and alone. After years of doing so, I fear I had grown, well, overconfident. As for the why? Who can know? I certainly cannot guess.” Penelope had a few very strong suspicions but no proof, so decided it was best to keep those suspicions to herself for now, especially since the man questioning her was now engaged to one of her suspects.

      “What about the men who kidnapped you?” asked Lord Mallam. “Can you tell us anything about them?”

      After looking at the very serious expressions on the faces of the men, Penelope shrugged and described her three assailants. She was not sure how these men could help her, or even why they should bother. Some odd sort of gentlemanly chivalry, or a matter of honor, she supposed. What she was sure of was that they would not believe her suspicions about Clarissa and Charles. The Hutton-Moores might not be accepted by all of society but they were still of the aristocracy. One had to be very careful about accusing such people of crimes, even when one was also of the aristocracy. Nor did she have the proof or the social standing she needed to make anyone even listen to her.

      But I will get that proof, she decided, and turned her full attention back to the men. She could see they were outraged by what had happened to her and intrigued by the mystery of it. If that interest proved more than a passing fancy for them, they might well be of some help, but she would not allow herself to hope for much. In truth, she found herself hoping that their interest waned. If they persisted, she would find herself spending time with Radmoor, and when he married Clarissa, Penelope knew she would suffer all the more for having come to know him.

      Instinct told her that getting to know Radmoor would not cure her of her infatuation. The night at the brothel had already made that light, dream-shrouded sensation into something more solid, deeper. Even worse, instead of her gentle, girlish dreams of sweet words and soft kisses, she now had dreams that left her trembling and aching with need, one far stronger than the mild want she had occasionally woken up with before. Lust had firmly clasped hands with infatuation. The only way to protect her heart was to stay as far away from Radmoor as possible, but as she blithely extended an invitation for the men to call again while she escorted them to the door, Penelope knew she did not have the strength to avoid him.

      “What did they want?”

      Penelope squeaked softly and jumped, startled by Artemis’s silent arrival at her side. “They know exactly who I am,” she replied as she went back into the parlor to collect the dishes.

      “How did they find out?” Artemis moved to help her clean up after their guests. “We were careful.”

      “You were, but Radmoor saw