Page 41 of Fairest of Heart

Doc arched a brow at the question, but Titus ignored him, more concerned with the touch of pink creeping back into Penelope’s cheeks.

“Only one that I recall. Madame had been called away by some business with Mr. Billings, leaving the gentleman to explore on his own. He came across me in the wings as I was returning Madame’s costumes to the rack. Servants are typically invisible to wealthy types, so I was quite startled when he struck up a conversation. I acknowledged him but did my best to discourage any further discourse. Madame has strict rules against fraternizing with patrons, and I knew better than to break one of her rules. Besides, the way he looked at me made me uncomfortable. I made up an excuse about needing to check on a missing bonnet and left him to his own devices.”

Her accounting fit with Hathaway’s story. Still, he didn’t have proof the man she described was actually Hathaway. To build a case, he’d need something more definitive. “Do you remember what this man looked like?” Anyone who met Hubert Hathaway would be hard-pressed not to remember him.

Sure enough, Penelope nodded. “I remember his head just being visible over the clothes rack, so he must not have been very tall, but the way he carried himself made him seem larger. He had sandy hair and thick sideburns. Oh, and he wore the oddest suit I’d ever seen—dark purple with a bright yellow waistcoat.”

Definitely Hubert Hathaway. Now Titus had proof Penelope had interactions with one of the victims.

“Do you recall a jeweled stickpin the man wore?”

She shook her head. “No. Sorry. I was trying to discourage his attention, so I looked at him as little as possible.”

Plausible. Although, it made for a convenient excuse as well.

“Is the stickpin one of the items that was stolen?”

Titus looked at her sharply.

She shrugged. “You accused me rather loudly of being a suspect in a robbery case. Something must’ve been stolen.”

He obviously needed to take more care with his words.

“I didn’t take it,” she volunteered.

He had little reason to take her at her word, yet his gut told him she spoke the truth. Captain Bill required more evidence than his gut, though. So Titus pressed on.

“Tell me about Gerard Carlisle.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap. “He was the son of my employer back in Chicago.”

Titus’s throat constricted around his next question, but he pressed the words through. “Were you romantically involved with him?”

“No!” Her head lifted, and fire lit her eyes.

Her vehemence took him aback.

“I’m sure Mrs. Carlisle painted me as a woman of loose morals, but it’s not true. I was seventeen when I started working for the Carlisles. I knew nothing of men, having grown up at a girls’ school. Edith warned me to avoid being caught alone with one. She said many wealthy men considered it sport to dally with female staff. I heeded her advice and kept my distance from Mrs. Carlisle’s husband and any gentlemen guests they entertained. The strategy worked for the first year, but when their son returned from traveling abroad, everything changed. Despite my efforts to avoid interacting with him, Mr. Gerard took notice of me right away.”

Of course he did. A man would have to be blind not to.

“He would seek me out when his mother was not at home. Try to engage me in conversation. I mentioned it to the housekeeper, and Mrs. Franklin agreed to shift me to other assignments. Apparently, he had a philandering reputation among the staff, though none would ever breathe a word of it in the mistress’s hearing out of fear of being dismissed.” She fell quiet for a moment. “Even though we took precautions, I still felt him watching me. One day I was passing the library, and I heard a kitten mewling. The mistress did not tolerate animals in the house, so however it had come to be there, I knew I had to get it outside before the mistress found out. The poor little thing couldn’t have been more than a week old. Which should have raised my suspicions, but in the moment, I was too worried about the tiny creature to think it might be bait.”

Titus’s gut tightened painfully. He fought to keep his cynicism in place. This could all be a sob story designed to elicit sympathy, after all. That pill was becoming harder and harder to swallow, though. Wealthy men taking advantage of young women were far too common.

Penelope curled her hands in her lap, one over the other, almost as if she were trying the shelter the tiny beast even now. “When I hurried to the crying kitten’s aid, Mr. Gerard locked the library door. He tried to woo me with flattery at first, but when I tried to flee, he abandoned all pretense of manners.” Her chin dropped to her chest, and her arms wrapped around themselves as if she’d suddenly grown cold. “He grabbed hold of me,” she recounted, her voice quiet and flat. “Pressed his mouth hard against mine. I struggled. Begged him to let me go. He laughed. Dragged me toward the sofa. I flailed and knocked over a tea service, making a dreadful racket. The crash startled him, allowing me to jerk one of my arms free. I grabbed the heavy tea tray off the floor and bashed him over the head.” She straightened a bit and took a breath to collect herself. “I reported the incident straightaway to the housekeeper, but there was little she could do. Mrs. Carlisle dismissed me that very day without pay or reference. I was ruined.”

Unable to sit still, Titus pushed to his feet and paced over to the window. His hands balled into fists as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Penny,” Doc soothed. “Carlisle should have been the one ruined after such vile behavior.”

“After Edith got me the job with Madame LaBelle, I did my best to avoid notice,” she said, a lost element to her voice that only fueled Titus’s ire. “I kept to myself and spoke as little as possible. Wore baggy dresses and drab colors. I didn’t socialize with the troupe members and only interacted with them when my duties required it.”

He recalled the dress she wore the first time he’d seen her. It was exactly as she described—shapeless and the color of dirt. Not part of a costume worn to influence a passing Ranger of her innocence, for no one, including him, had known he would pass that way. Yet his chance witness served to validate her story.

The second time he’d met her, she’d worn almost nothing. Stripped and left in the woods to fend for herself. Such callous neglect could have ended in Penelope’s death if Rowdy hadn’t found her. Even if there had been evidence to support the theory that she’d been double-crossed by an accomplice, she’d still been a victim. A victim more in need of his protection than the Hubert Hathaways of the world.

Titus stared out the window as truth sank into his soul. He’d been wrong. Utterly and completely wrong. Penelope Snow was no seductive thief who manipulated men with her feminine wiles. She was a young woman with a kind heart whose beauty had been used against her—including by him. But no more.