A Gentleman's Guide to Scandal Read Free

asked, in a tone that allowed only one answer.
    â€œI do not usually attend,” Colin said. Though he was, of course, invited. The ill blood between their families was not the sort one could speak of, nor act on; they’d spent years smiling and nodding to each other in passing and simply ignoring each other the rest of the time.
    Levenbane’s expression darkened.
    â€œI will have to make an exception,” Colin said, with a roguish smile to Penelope, who blushed scarlet. She had a goodcomplexion for blushing, he noted. When his sisters blushed they turned all blotchy; Penelope bloomed like a rose. He wondered if she’d practiced.
    â€œVery good,” Levenbane said. “And October for the wedding, then?”
    â€œIf that is enough time for Lady Penelope,” Colin said graciously.
    â€œOh, yes,” Penelope said. It was the first she’d spoken. “It needn’t be extravagant.”
    Her father’s expression suggested that it would be, if he had anything to say about it. Since Colin would be only minimally involved in the planning, he didn’t see how it affected him. Levenbane extended his hand. Colin shook it. And that was that.
    In three months, he’d be a married man.
    He exited Levenbane’s town house with a curious numbness in his limbs. It was taken care of, then. It was done, and he could finally put Elinor out of his mind.
    He paused as he reached his carriage, frowning. A thin figure was puffing its way up the street toward him. William, he realized, the youngest footman.
    â€œLord Farleigh,” the boy squeaked as he came within wheezing distance. “I came—you said—”
    â€œDeep breaths, William,” Colin said. The boy was far too excitable. His cheeks were so red now that Colin feared he would pitch over in the street. “What is it?”
    â€œYou told me to tell you if Lady Phoebe got into any trouble,” William said between panting breaths. He leaned over, bracing a hand on his thigh.
    Colin stifled a sigh. Of course the boy had taken his offhand jest about watching the youngest Spenser sister as a sacred mission. He accepted every order—from fetching lemonade to straightening his cuffs—with the gravity of a holy crusade. “I take it my sister has found some mischief to get into, then. You really didn’t have to run all the way here.”
    â€œOh,” William said, crestfallen. He straightened up. “My apologies, my lord.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. I did say to tell me,” Colin said, rubbing his temples. “So what’s she done now?”
    â€œLady Phoebe and Lady Elinor have gone out,” William said. “To the East End. Whitechapel. My lord.”
    Colin scowled. What the devil were Elinor and his sister doing there? No doubt chasing some harebrained adventure Phoebe had concocted. It was one thing when she darted off in search of excitement, but Elinor ought to have known better. He looked William in the eye. The boy straightened up, setting his jaw and no doubt channeling every ancestor who’d ever lifted musket or sword in service of his country. He looked ready to charge Napoleon’s armies single-handed.
    â€œYou did well,” Colin said. “Now. Tell me exactly where they’ve gone.”
    *   *   *
    Elinor Hargrove did not believe in ghosts. The dead stayed dead. Their voices did not echo back to the living, and anyone who claimed to hear them must be mad—or a cheat. In the case of Madame Vesta, it was almost certainly the latter. And Elinor intended to prove it, even if it meant a trip to a thoroughly dubious neighborhood of London.
    The streets were narrow and filthy, and the buildings seemed to lean against one another like drunken friends. A mangy cat and a mangier child ambled down the street, unperturbed by the clatter of the carriage’s wheels or the slowing clop of the horse’s hooves. As the