Page 78 of One Night with an Earl

He stiffened. His grandmother knew him better than anyone, almost better than the Duke of Warwick.

Had he acted differently?

If he had, it’d been because he was consumed with spending time with Ana. How to explain his behavior to his grandmother without revealing the full truth? “I suppose you are right.”

“Good. I’ve invited the Malverns to the theater tonight in your private box.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Pardon?”

She raised a hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have, but the marchioness paid me a visit upon her return to town. She said her daughter enjoys the theater, and my offer on your behalf just slipped out.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh. “First, you invited the family to Rosedown. Now, to the theater. You must stop interfering.”

Escorting the Malverns to the theater was the last thing he desired, not when Ana would be in his bed that night. He was tempted to refuse, except he knew Ana would most likely accompany Penelope as her chaperone.

“In my defense, you are my only remaining grandson, but I shall try. Meanwhile, will you take them?”

“Only if you cease meddling.”

“You have my word.”

“And if things do not progress with Lady Penelope, I hope you will not be distressed.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “You must know that I want more for you than what your parents had shared.”

A cold, loveless marriage. She did not need to say it outright. His childhood home had been empty of love and affection. He’d been shipped off to Eton as soon as he’d been of age.

His grandmother sat back and sighed. “Perhaps I was a bit too hasty in inviting the Malvern family to the theater. After all, you only recently arrived home from the country.”

His grandmother was stubborn, and he understood how hard it was for her to make that admission. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll escort them.”

Rather than be happy to hear this news as he’d expected, she watched him carefully. “Whatever your intentions, my boy, I’ll accept them. But decide soon. I want to see the earldom settled before I die.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ana knew it was unwise for Penelope to be seen on St. James. The street was a gentleman’s domain and could cause a scandal if a lady was even seen driving by in an open carriage. Many of the younger sons of the nobility took rooms in one of the lodgings in the West End of town. As the sixth son of a baron, the location suited Lieutenant Smithfield.

They had taken a hackney rather than the family’s crested coach. The conveyance was not as well-sprung and smelled like smoke and perspiration from its prior occupants. Penelope’s foot tapped incessantly, and Ana suppressed the urge to reach out and place a hand on her thigh to still it. Desperate women took unwise risks, and Penelope was surely desperate. Ana’s job was to ensure that the girl did not get caught.

The wheels came to a stop on the cobbled street.

Ana forced Penelope’s gaze to hers. “Pull your hood down. Let me go first. Once the front door is opened for me by the butler or servant, I will signal for you.”

Penelope huffed out a breath. “Then I hurry inside the home. No need for me to wait on the porch. We have been over everything several times already.”

Ana ignored her charge’s frustration. “Good. If any hint of scandal occurs, I will never forgive myself.”

“You needn’t worry.”

But she did worry. Not just for Penelope, but for herself. Intercepting correspondence was one thing—sneaking her into a bachelor’s residence was something entirely different.

Ana descended from the hack and made her way to the front door. On her third knock, a servant cracked the door.

“Yes, Miss?”

He was younger than she’d expected with a full head of brown hair and brown eyes. “Lieutenant Smithfield is expecting me,” she lied.

Either Penelope was right and her soldier was just as enamored of her as she was of him, or they would be turned away.