Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane #6)(93)

Artemis glanced at him sharply. Was he somehow referring to the Ghost? Surely he had no way of knowing Maximus’s secret?

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies, we must to my box.” Lord Noakes bowed and ushered his wife away.

“What an odd thing to say,” Miss Picklewood murmured, her forehead crimped. “What do you think he meant by ‘chasing phantoms’?”

Artemis cleared her throat. “I’ve no idea.”

“Oh, here’s Lady Penelope at last,” Isabel Makepeace drawled in amusement. “Wretched creature to keep us all waiting.”

Penelope was making an entrance, naturally. She wore a dress of gold tissue and was escorted by the Duke of Scarborough. As she entered the crowded theater, she flipped open her fan, gazing languidly about.

Artemis felt a burst of fondness for her cousin. She was so vain, so mannered, but underneath she could be quite sweet at times. And Artemis had hurt her so badly without Penelope ever knowing. Well, at least she’d decided to leave Maximus. Pray Penelope never discovered the truth. Artemis smiled and held out her hand to Penelope as she approached. They hadn’t seen each other in days.

Penelope gathered her skirts and quickened her pace, nearly rushing at her.

Still, Artemis was surprised when the slap came.

“Whore!” Penelope shouted, her voice echoing around the theater’s lobby as Artemis staggered back from the blow, gasping.

Lady Hero and Isabel Makepeace caught her.

Miss Picklewood bravely stepped between her and Penelope, but there was no need. The Duke of Scarborough had moved very quickly to catch up with Penelope. He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her back. His normally genial face was wearing a frown. “What is this about?”

Penelope kept her eyes on Artemis as she said, “You know I want Wakefield, yet you spread your legs for him like a common strumpet.”

Artemis stared, her hand at her cheek as a kind of icy numbness seemed to spread through her limbs.

“You had no right!” Penelope cried, tears in her eyes. “No right at all. He’ll never marry you, not with Apollo’s madness. You’ll be tossed into the streets and I’ll be glad! Glad, I tell you, for—”

She was abruptly interrupted in her diatribe by Scarborough turning her about and shaking her once. As Penelope had been yelling his face had gone completely blank. Now, it was dark with anger.

“Stop this! Stop it at once!” Scarborough snapped.

Penelope looked up at him and gasped, “But—”

“No. Whatever your imagined slights, you may not bellow about them in a public place like a mad fishwife. And to hit your defenseless cousin! This was badly done, Penelope. Badly done indeed.” He turned to Artemis and bowed. “Miss Greaves, I hope you are not hurt. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be escorting her ladyship home.”

Artemis blinked, able only to nod jerkily.

Penelope’s eyes widened and tears sparkling in them. “But, Robert—”

“No.” The duke frowned sternly. “I have much patience, my dear, and I think I have demonstrated my affection, but I have my pride as well. I simply will not have you bawling over another man like this. I fear I may have to reevaluate my courtship of you.”

“Oh,” Penelope said in a very small voice, and for the first time Artemis saw apprehension in her face.

“Come.” Scarborough took her arm and marched Penelope out of the theater.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Artemis’s heart felt small and sore. She gently disengaged herself from Isabel and Hero and turned to face her former friends.

WHEN ILLINGSWORTH LANDED at Harte’s Folly, Maximus was disappointed. An entire day watching the man only to have him traipse off to the theater come night. It seemed he’d wasted his time. All at once he realized that if he’d given up the hunt, just for this once, he might’ve spent the evening with Artemis and his sisters. They were probably themselves already seated at the theater. Perhaps Artemis would even let him speak to her.

He hung back as Illingsworth murmured something to one of the brightly dressed footmen, then disembarked only after his quarry had gone ahead.

“What did Mr. Illingsworth want?” Maximus asked the same footman as he pressed a coin into the man’s hand.

“He asked if Lord Noakes was attending tonight,” was the reply.

Maximus raised his brows. “And is he?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman said. “Both Lord and Lady Noakes are in attendance tonight. They’re at the theater now, as I told Mr. Illingsworth.”

Maximus looked at the footman—a sharp-looking young man. He took out a larger coin, this one gold. “Do you know Lord Noakes?”

“Oh, yes, Your Grace.” The footman eyed the gold coin. “He and his nephew attend the theater often.”

“His nephew?”

The footman raised his brows. “Didn’t you know, Your Grace? Mr. Illingsworth is Lord Noakes’s nephew.”

Maximus absently pressed the coin in the lad’s hand. No, he hadn’t known. Noakes wasn’t a particularly close acquaintance. He’d been mainly a friend of his father’s, although Maximus remembered now that his mother had never cared for the man, and he’d overheard her speak disparagingly of Noakes’s gambling. He had a sudden memory of Noakes at his parents’ funeral wearing a new suit.