In the House of Secrets

Chapter Two | Beckett and Penelope

Lady Farrington was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Beckett had ever seen. She was also demure. And kind. And everything that her husband was not.

Beckett understood that marriages in the ton did not often involve well-paired couples, and he assumed that was the case here, being that Lady Farrington was everything that her husband was not.

But then he watched them as they rode together in their carriage, with its decorative gold trimmings and plump cushions. And it quickly became apparent that Lord and Lady Farrington's marriage was not one of convenience. Beckett thought surely when Lord Farrington wrapped his arm around his wife that she would stiffen, especially considering their company—him.

But she did not. Rather she leaned into the man, smiling contently.

Beckett, on the other hand, frowned, unsure of what to make of the situation he'd found himself in.

"Colonel Ash."

Beckett sighed. He had really been hoping that they could make it all the way to Southampton without having to exchange words. But Beckett had learned that Lord Farrington was rather fond of words. The man's mouth rarely ceased spewing them.

"Yes, my lord?"

He did not even try to keep the irritation from his voice. But Farrington did not seem to care. Instead, a sly smile crept onto his face.

"When we arrive, you are to stay in Lord Hutton's chambers."

Beckett nearly choked on his own tongue. Of all the goddamn words that this man could have sputtered.

"Excuse me?"

"The marquess, Lord Hutton. You shall stay in his chambers as they are vacant," Farrington said, rearranging the words he'd already said as if that would help Beckett to understand what the devil was going on.

"I do not know much of the ton's finer etiquette," he said, "but I am quite certain that is in breach of several unspoken rules."

Farrington waved off his concerns. "Spoken ones, as well. However, Addie was quite insistent on it. She wishes for you to remain close to Penelope to ensure her safety."

No, he could not be serious. Beckett felt his scowl visibly deepen. Which was good—he had no reservations in letting Farrington know just how ridiculous he sounded. "Surely," Beckett said, "the marchioness isn't any more at risk than any other party-goers."

Farrington took pause at that, rubbing his chin in thought. "It is merely that Penelope is...."

Lady Farrington lightly laughed, and the earl turned to face his wife with a knowing smile. Beckett was certain that there was a joke that he was not privy to.

"She is quite smart," the countess filled in for her husband. "Precocious, one might say."

Beckett did not understand what that had to do with anything.