The Angel of Highgate Read Online Free Page A

suddenly appeared at the table. “Not again, Algy!” he exclaimed. “My friend is always apologizing for my behavior!”
    “Then you must find him a very useful friend to have, Lord Thraxton.”
    The quickness of her answer took them both by surprise. Thraxton smiled and laughed. “By that I take it you know of me, ma’am?”
    Algernon scooped a dipper full of crimson punch into a glass and offered it to Mrs. Pennethorne.
    “I know of your reputation.” She accepted the punch, smiled graciously, and thanked Algernon before returning her attention to Thraxton. “Some of my confidants describe you as nothing less than the wickedest man in London.”
    Thraxton’s smile buckled slightly. The woman was very blunt.
    “Your confidants flatter me, Mrs. Pennethorne, but offhand I can think of at least three men who are much wickeder than I. Pray tell, what else do these confidants say about me?”
    “That you are given to a great many dalliances, including Lady Warrington, a married woman, and Eliza Perkins, an actress on the London stage, not to mention the never-ending parade of pretty young horsebreakers you are seen in the company of.”
    Algernon found it impossible to keep the smirk from his face as Thraxton cleared his throat and shifted his feet uneasily. Thraxton was used to being the one to shock and raise eyebrows. It appeared as though he had finally met his equal in the disarmingly beautiful Mrs. Pennethorne. While the Lord squirmed, Constance took a sip of her punch and turned her aqueous eyes once more to Algernon. “I confess I know nothing of you, Mister Hyde-Davies. Have you no reputation to besmirch? Or are you merely given to being discreet?”
    Algernon found his tongue knotted like a badly tied cravat as his mind grappled for a witty retort. She suddenly raised her eyes to look at something over his shoulder. Algernon caught the direction of her gaze and turned to look.
    An elderly couple hovered a few feet away.
    “Ah,” Mrs. Pennethorne said, “I see my friends the Wakefields are waiting for me.” She turned back to Algernon and Thraxton. “Lovely party, Lord Thraxton. I did so enjoy myself and thank you again for my little memento of ancient Egypt.” She offered him her hand.
    “Perhaps you will think of me when you wear it,” Thraxton said, kissing her gloved knuckles.
    “Perhaps.” Constance turned to Algernon and once again offered her hand. “So pleasant to meet you, Mister Hyde-Davies.”
    As he took her hand, Algernon could not tear his eyes from hers long enough to bow. “Yuh, yes,” he stammered. “And pleasant meeting you. Was. For me. I mean… pleasant.” He smiled. Her eyes truly were amazing. Such a shade of blue.
    “Mister Hyde-Davies?”
    “Er, yes?”
    “My hand, sir. I shall require its return.”
    Algernon realized he was still gripping her hand. He released it and stammered an apology.
    She bowed her head demurely and ended with, “Good day to you both, sirs.”
    Quite entranced, Algernon and Thraxton watched her walk away on the arms of Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield.
    “What a singularly splendid lady,” Algernon enthused. “Lovely, and yet so quick-witted and agile of mind.”
    “Yeeeesss,” Thraxton drawled. “Nicely adequate bosom, too. Perhaps I shall send her my card. What do you say, Algy?”
    “Oh, I hardly think Mrs. Pennethorne is for you, Geoffrey!”
    “Why ever not?”
    “Not really your type, old fellow. I mean, she is a lady. A woman of great refinement and sensibility. A true gentlewoman!”
    Thraxton plunged a glass into the punch bowl and dredged it out, dripping. “But I consider myself a man of great sensitivity and refinement. Am I not?” As he said it he turned and threw his arms wide. In doing so he banged shoulders with another man, sloshing red punch down the front of the man’s white shirt and black dinner jacket.
    The owner of the dinner jacket was none other than Augustus Skinner.
    “You clumsy oaf!” Skinner roared. He tore a