"Lord Lawton," Penelope called, catching the man as he crossed the grounds in the mid-afternoon sun.

He startled a bit before glancing around, eyes landing on Penelope. It was evident from the slump of his shoulders that he relaxed upon seeing her. Or perhaps upon seeing her alone.

She flashed him a bright smile, knowing he did not suspect she knew what she did. He thought her safe, but he could not have been more wrong.

More and more, Penelope had noticed how his presence often vanished. And his excuses for parting from the rest of the guests in the evening were not well-developed. She even heard him comment the other day about a relation in France he hoped to visit within the coming months.

All signs pointed to Lawton being their smuggler, and she was prepared to follow them.

"Are you still enjoying the grounds?" she called.

He nodded genially. "Quite."

When Penelope reached where Lawton stood, she halted and gave him another warm grin. "I do hope my recommendations for some peace and quiet have proved useful."

"They have." He returned her grin. "I am grateful for the suggestions."

"Of course."

Lawton's brows pulled together as he did a quick surveillance of the grounds around them. "Where is Colonel Ash today? You are usually found together, no?"

She nodded, becoming used to this comment. Which also meant she had a response prepared and ready to unload.

"Yes, while Colonel Ash is a special guest of Lord Farrington's, the queen reached out to me personally to see that he had a warm welcome. So I have been ensuring his inclusion in the party's affairs."

"I see."

Penelope could tell by the look on his face that he did not necessarily believe what she was saying, but it was no matter. She already knew that Lawton gossiped about her in private; if he spoke of Penelope and Beckett, there would be truth to it, at least.

"The colonel left for a ride earlier," she added.

After this morning, Beckett appeared to need time to clear his head, and Penelope suggested he find some solace in nature. She knew he was not used to being within four walls for such an extended period, and she was confident it had its toll. Nor was he used to having to socialize so frequently.

Of course, he had attempted to argue, but she reminded him there was no evidence of harmful behavior from any of their guests. As he admitted this morning, his need to follow her around stemmed more from the pull between them and less because there was any actual cause for concern.

And because Beckett had not wanted to have to take back the very thing he'd made her promise...he was forced to agree. Which was for the best. Beckett's steps were noticeably lighter when Penelope caught him walking to the stables through her bedchamber window.

"Well then," Lawton said, straightening with that new information. "I should love to escort you on a stroll through the gardens."

Before she could reply, his fingers clasped around her, attempting to guide her by the elbow. They turned toward the gardens, and Penelope felt rather pushed along with his sudden persistence. Belatedly, Penelope realized that informing a man who had the potential for treason that she was alone and unprotected had perhaps not been the best course of action.

"Oh, that would be delightful." She forced herself to remain calm. "But at the moment, I have plans to check on—"

"Surely you are not in that much of a hurry?" Lawton's face rearranged in a sleazy form of a smile that made Penelope's stomach flip unpleasantly.

"Well, you see—"

"Come now," Lawton interrupted, "I have been meaning to visit the solarium you mentioned to me during our dance, Lady Hutton. You mentioned it was in the gardens, yes?"

"Yes, but—"

"Hands off, Lawton."

This time Penelope was relieved to be interrupted. She heard the bark of Beckett's voice across the lawn, and relief overwhelmed her. Lawton's not-so-subtle persuasion for her to join him alone in the gardens had been causing panic to rise within.

Lawton twisted to look behind them, but he didn't drop his hand.

And that was likely a mistake.

She twisted to find Beckett storming toward them, his expression intent and rigid. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and Penelope knew he would use them. The evidence was in the way his lip was curling upward. The fierceness was...shocking.

And somewhat appealing, she had to admit.

"Hands. Off," he repeated through gritted teeth.

Lawton released her elbow, his hands flying up in defense.

"It was a mere walk, Colonel," he said in an attempt to laugh it off. His voice was mostly nonchalant, but nervousness threaded through it, and Penelope could not blame him. Beckett was a sight to be seen as he strutted toward them, tall, sinewy, and angry.

"Lady Hutton clearly does not wish to join you," he grunted. "If you want to take a walk, by all means." Beckett pointed toward the gardens, inviting Lawton to leave.

The lord's chest puffed up at that, and Penelope bit the inside of her cheek as she prepared for the worst. Beckett could pummel Lawton in an instant, and he was used to giving commands that people obeyed...or else. But Lawton's rank gave him a higher sense of self-importance.

Before an argument—or worse—could break out, Penelope turned to Lawton.

"I shall see you at dinner, Lord Lawton." She tried to muster a smile. "It was lovely speaking with you."

The lord readjusted his waistcoat and straightened his back. She saw the urge to quarrel in his eyes, the urge to assert his rank, his title, his maleness—all the ways he believed himself to be better than her or Beckett. Penelope might be a marchioness, a duke's daughter, and a mistress of this estate, but she was still a woman. And she could see in his eyes what he thought of that.

Luckily, Lawton nodded stiffly and stalked off.

Penelope watched him disappear into the manor before turning to the fuming man behind her. He was glaring, eyes glittering, at Lawton's back.

"God, I hope to hell he's a traitor to the crown so I can see him thrown in jail."

Penelope cleared her voice, trying to keep it steady even though her heart raced. "As a matter of fact, I was about to investigate that."

"Of course." Beckett spoke dryly, his gaze falling to her, still burning. It was still hot as he assessed her, studying each part of her with an intensity that she wasn't used to. "Of course you wait until I am gone to do that."

"I grew restless," she said in her defense. "I wished to see if Lawton had fallen into my trap."

"Your trap," Beckett deadpanned.

"I told you, did I not?"

Beckett, still looking cross, shook his head slowly.

And then Penelope remembered all that had transpired since the night she had danced with Lawton. She'd been swept up in Beckett ever since, and they had not stopped once to speak of her plan.

"I did tell you that I spoke with Lawton regarding locations on the estate that would be secluded should he wish to enjoy some...quiet time."

The connection fizzled, sparking in Beckett's eyes.

"And you think perhaps he has stored goods there."

Penelope shrugged. "Perhaps. I was going to investigate."

Without another word, Penelope took off for the shed on the far corner of the estate—where she had been heading earlier. Beckett marched behind her, hot on her tail. She heard him grumbling something beneath his breath, and for some reason, it made her smile.

When they reached the shed, Penelope held her breath as she yanked the old, wooden door open. It creaked loudly, dust and dirt flying as she stepped into the dank interior. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, and she waited for Beckett to follow her and close the door before taking another step.

"Penelope."

She jumped slightly when Beckett's hands grabbed her hips. He tugged back, forcefully enough that she flew into his hard chest. But the odd note in his voice when he said her name was what made her spin around to face him.

He placed one finger beneath her chin, tipping it up. She looked at him, appreciating how strapping he looked in his riding gear. His face was covered with shadows, sunlight filtering across only his eyes from the cracks in the wooden slats that were considered walls.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounded scratchy in the still air like the floating dust particles were stuck in his throat.

She nodded, unable to speak. He was just so blindingly handsome. And shaking, ever so slightly.

"Are you?" she countered.

To her surprise, he shook his head. "No."

His hands ran over her like he was ensuring she was still whole, and she thought that maybe...maybe she understood.

Penelope's breath caught in her throat, and she could not speak for a long moment.

"I doubt he was planning to hurt me," she whispered, sensing they were hanging on a fragile moment. "I think Lawton knew where I was going, and that is why he was insistent that I leave."

"I don't care." Beckett dove his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, and he used his grip to tip her head back even further. "He touched you."

"Barely," she whispered.

Beckett's eyes flashed. "He shouldn't have touched you at all. No man should."

Penelope's heart jumped into her throat. "Except you?"

He groaned. "Except me."

Beckett drew her in and kissed her hard. Penelope felt like they were breaking free. The kiss was wild and unrestrained as their lips clashed and tongues twirled and twisted. Raw possession blossomed in Penelope; she wished she could keep him as her own, wanting kisses like this every day.

Together they stumbled back, and when Penelope's heels hit something hard and unyielding, she nearly fell. She would have, if not for Beckett's grip around her waist.

They broke apart with simultaneous gasps, peering over Penelope's shoulder to find a large tarp blanketing something rather bulky. Penelope's pulse sped up, even more than it already was.

Untangling herself from Beckett's hold, she poked curiously at the fabric. "Do you think...?"

Beckett sighed and marched around her, grabbing the tarp in a fistful.

"I suppose there is only one way to find out."