His Forbidden Debutante (11 page)

Lud, she must look a ghastly fright wrapped in a worn, wrinkled blanket, her hair a mess and who knew what else, like a beggar orphan from the streets of St Giles. Not that she had any idea of the actual creature, but her vivid imaginings suggested it must be so.

‘Good morning.’

His voice sounded as wonderful as she remembered and a ripple of gooseflesh dotted her skin that had nothing to do with the chilly temperature outside.

‘Hello.’ Dare she move away from the tree trunk? It provided the sturdiest support. When he took a step closer, she decided not.

‘Your presence here is more than a surprise.’ His lips quirked and the half smile made her giddy. ‘As for me, my horses needed rest. I’ve pushed the team too hard in my hurry to return to London. That was not well done of me, as other things of late.’

‘I once knew a gentleman who held an extensive understanding of horses.’ She would have rolled her eyes at the inane comment if he didn’t watch her so keenly.

‘Most gentlemen entertain the common interest, yet I know better than to run an animal aground.’ He slanted a look over the lake as if discarding the words because they bothered him.

Perhaps he was too involved in his regret to have noticed her idiotic retort, so she dwelled on it no longer and offered a sympathetic rejoinder. ‘I know how disappointment feels.’ The words came out in a hush.

‘Do you now?’ He studied her as if he wished to read her mind and she fidgeted under the blanket. Clearly her reply piqued his interest.

‘More than you can imagine.’

‘That is disheartening. A gentleman would never do so.’ He executed an elegant bow and her heart turned over. ‘The Earl of Penwick at your service.’

‘My friends call me Livie.’ This time the words came in a rush as her dreams sped ahead of her, barely waiting for her brain to keep pace.

‘Am I to be considered one? I held doubts after our waltz at Monsieur Bournon’s and my improper behaviour… ’

‘I never considered you rude.’ She blurted, aware too late, she’d committed her own breech of etiquette by way of interruption.

‘You are ever generous.’

His compliment caused the strangest sensation in her belly, like having eaten too many sweets. A feeling one didn’t mind repeating no matter its odd impression.

‘And at the masquerade…’

Something flickered in his eyes but it was gone before she could examine it.

‘I cannot imagine why you’d visit the lake this early, but if I’ve learned anything of friendship it embodies the ability to know when or when not to ask questions.’ His sharp change of subject caused her to startle. ‘Still, you’ll become chilled to the bone if you stand against that tree much longer. Your cheeks are a fetching shade of pink and, when you speak, your breath dances in steamy little clouds.’

The knowledge he examined her appearance and watched her mouth closely warmed her more than the blanket.

He stepped closer and she poked a finger through the top of the gathers to adjust her spectacles. ‘Thank you for the kind words and prudent warning. I will take heed.’ Would she be wrong to consider his words flirtatious? She had little prior experience; most all her favoured compliments were received on the written page in Randolph’s letters, not during face-to-face conversation.

They exchanged grins in the high-crowned glow of the sun as it burned through the cloud cover and she moved away from the hornbeam tree at last, surprised her legs supported her, as inside everything juggled in a flurry of jumbled emotions. With a curt goodbye, she fled up the embankment to where Dinah waited, her maid’s expression a mixture of curiosity, exasperation and utter disbelief.

‘Milady?’

‘Yes.’ They scrambled inside the carriage and took their seats. Livie made a great show of spreading the blanket across their laps, her lips pressed tight to silence the many words bouncing against her teeth.

‘What happened?’ The question burst from Dinah.

‘I conversed with the Earl of Penwick.’

‘Do you know him?’ The enquiry rose on the final word, lending a degree of incredibility.

‘No.’ Livie huffed a breath. ‘Although he
feels
familiar.’ How could she describe the spark of rightness and inner recognition, as if they knew each other on another level of existence, when she couldn’t understand the sensation?

Dinah’s glance grew quizzical and she gave her head a shake before the carriage jolted forward and they continued home.

How curious life had become of late. Penwick stood at the edge of the Serpentine, refusing to allow himself the indulgence of watching Livie return to her carriage. The lady stirred something within him he had no way to explain and yet he hardly knew her. Still, it could not be ignored. Circumstance had placed them in each other’s path three times in three days. The unlikely happenstance made him question the unsettling reality that composed his near future.

He’d left Clipthorne before sunrise, his early departure explained in a note left for Claire, where he claimed a busy schedule and his sincere apology, more excuse than truth. Yet an uncomfortable underlying feeling persisted. He’d needed to leave, needed to
escape
.

He shook his head to rid his brain of the horrid word. Claire couldn’t be lovelier. Her family welcomed him with gracious enthusiasm, and still, something restrained him from opening his heart and sharing his most personal feelings. Claire deserved better. He should carry out his previous consideration and purchase her a gift, although what could one offer to the daughter of a diamond merchant? Surely she possessed the finest jewels available. Her father already planned the wedding gift to be composed of the most superior gemstones.

Penwick stared across the lake’s surface. He did have a fine dapple grey in his stable and the gesture, extravagant and generous, would certainly express what he couldn’t seem to say with words... a desire for commitment. But why couldn’t he confess his feelings to Claire? He’d never experienced difficulty when revealing sentiments in his letters to Lavinia. A bittersweet smile turned his lips. If only he knew what had happened to the lady. And what to make of this new acquaintance, the immediate attraction curious, likely no more than a case of lust and bachelor reservations, acute and increased as the wedding date neared. Worse, she occupied his mind at the most inopportune times.

Livie.
The nickname must be a shortened form of Olivia. His new acquaintance seemed to be as intrigued by him as he by her. She reminded him in an odd, unexplainable fashion of the conversations detailed in his treasured letters. He scoffed at the preposterous notion. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t a fanciful stripe in his disposition, yet somehow he’d allowed himself to become lost in romanticism whenever he considered Lavinia’s letters. The comparisons needed to cease. He needed to return home and continue to arrange his schedule. The best way to clear one’s mind from confliction was oft found in a healthy dose of hard work.

Chapter Nine

As a gentleman with a code of honour, I could never allow your kind deed to go unnoticed. The rebellious letter that wound up in your household contained important information of a timely manner and I appreciate your effort in returning it to me. I confess I find great pleasure in our clever conversation. I’d very much like for us to continue. Until someday… Randolph

Livie had barely entered the house before being set upon by her sister. She muttered the same oath she’d heard the Earl curse at the edge of the Serpentine and whirled around to answer Wilhelmina’s bidding with a smile pasted in place.

‘Hello, Whimsy. Have I missed breakfast? I’m famished. Incredible how a brisk walk in the wee hours of the morning can stir one’s hunger, isn’t it?’ She looped her arm through her sister’s and pulled close as they turned in the hall and aimed towards the breakfast room. ‘I do hope Cook has prepared fresh yeast rolls. How divine they will taste with orange marmalade and a steaming cup of chocolate. Just the thing to rid the morning chill.’ She bit her bottom lip in wait, aware she may have overdone her appetite exuberance.

‘You’re that hungry?’ Wilhelmina’s voice sounded thick with suspicion, but she didn’t pursue the question. ‘Then this is the perfect opportunity to finalise the menu for your come-out. I’ve listed every dish you favour and included Dashwood and Cook’s delectable suggestions. If you’d like, while you sip your chocolate and reacclimatise, we can review the courses.’

‘Splendid idea.’ Livie wiggled her arm free and stepped aside. ‘If you’ll pardon me for one moment, I need to change my boots.’ And without further explanation she scooted up the backstairs to do just that.

But as she sought her bedchamber, it wasn’t a menu of appetisers or delicacies that filled her mind. Whenever she dared close her eyes for longer than a blink, she envisioned the Earl’s wickedly handsome smile and the morning sunlight as it glinted off the dark waves in his hair. How his striking profile and muscular physique somehow reminded of the marble statues she’d seen sketched in a dusty volume of Greek art found in the Kirby Park library.

Settling on the edge of her bed, she took a moment to fully absorb the impact of her imaginings and relish the deep, yearning desire that spiralled through her, quick to spark an excellent suggestion that needed to be voiced.

She would invite the Earl of Penwick to her celebration. Good heavens, why had it taken so long for her to formulate this idea? She’d dance with him again and be held in his arms. A capricious exhilaration snatched her breath away. Anxious now to share this bit of insight with her sister and concoct some relevant reason why the Earl should be added to the guest list, she hastily discarded her wet boots and donned the first pair on the lower shelf of her closet, not stalling in the least to make her selection, a process that usually occupied a solid ten minutes.

She moved to the wardrobe to run a comb through her unruly hair, only to have her eyes fall on the rosewood box where she concealed Randolph’s letters. Her excitement stuttered to a halt, all elation turned to lead and she released a disappointed sigh, at once deflated by the factuality that this pinnacle moment precipitated her goodbye. No matter she’d never voiced the words. At last, the time had come.

With tentative fingers she raised the lid and selected the top letter on the pile, one of her favourites, where Randolph described a competitive fencing bout. Pride laced every word as he detailed his victory. She’d read the paragraphs so often she could picture the scene as if she experienced it alongside him; the dashing swordsman winning the exhibit with honour.

Now resettled on the bed, she laid the letter in her lap, and with her fingertip traced the familiar strokes of his penmanship as if a gentle caress over each powerful slant and bowed curve. ‘I’m so sorry, Randolph.’ The heartfelt words sounded lonely and hollow in her empty bedchamber. ‘I once believed we would be together always. I offered you my heart with the purest intent, but the accident that stole my mobility also changed my life in more ways than I can count. When at last I decided to find you, I discovered myself lacking. I could never have borne your pity if our friendship had continued through guilt and despair. I…’ She waited, afraid to confess the sentiment. ‘I cherished your every word and loved you too much to become a burden, a wife who could not dance and ride, or stand proudly beside you.’ Her eyes watered to accompany the tremble in her voice and she removed her spectacles and dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, not wishing for them to fall to the paper and mar his lovely message. ‘But if anything, dearest, I owe you my fondest gratitude, for it was my deep affection for you that forged my vow to walk again. Every painstaking effort was empowered by the desire to someday run into your embrace. For this you have my eternal gratitude, Randolph Caulfield. I will always, most ardently, remember you in my heart.’

She couldn’t bear to dwell on it a breath longer and returned the letter to the box before she rushed to the washstand to splash water on her face. Only then, with all emotion resolved and calm demeanour restored, did she return to the breakfast room, determined to take life one step at a time, the first by adding the Earl of Penwick’s name to the guest list.

She donned a bright smile and slid into her seat, a footman filling her cup with chocolate before she could request the beverage.

‘Good morning, Livie,’ Aunt Kate greeted her along with Dash and Whimsy. ‘You look chipper and ready for the day.’

‘I rose before the sun, not wanting to waste a minute.’ Livie reached for the jar of marmalade, her spoon waggling at the ready. ‘And also, I’m anxious to finalise the plans for my debut. It will be the grandest event of the season.’

‘With a guest list of near two hundred I can’t imagine a celebration to top it.’ Dashwood peered around the edge of his freshly pressed newspaper, his eyes atwinkle to contradict his feigned beleaguering tone.

‘Actually…’ – Livie injected a cheerful laugh – ‘…there’s a name I’d like added if it isn’t too late for the invitation to be sent.’

‘There are no time limits on invitations. Tell me the name of the young lady’s family and I’ll see it done.’ He set aside the news and offered his full attention. ‘You haven’t requested a single specific.’

‘Actually…’

‘Another
actually
?’ This from her sister who shot her a speaking glance and watched the interplay with interest.

‘I’d like to invite the Earl of Penwick… if he isn’t busy… I mean, if he could possibly attend?’ Her sentence faded away on a high note of enquiry as the weight of everyone’s gaze settled upon her.

‘Penwick.’ Dash exhaled a long breath and laced his fingers. ‘If I recall correctly, the Earl is associated with my brother, Jasper, and a sensible man. But of more interest, what has caused this request?’ He voiced the question with a good amount of brotherly teasing, although no one could miss the insistent note of expectation there, too.

Three heads swivelled in her direction and Livie stifled her first reaction to Aunt Kate’s wide-eyed concentration, though she’d probably only heard half the conversation due to her hearing loss.