His Forbidden Debutante (16 page)

‘Where ever did you ever these?’ Esme stood near the dressing table, the diamond shoe clips laid across her palm, her hand thrust forward. ‘They’re gorgeous. Are these real stones?’

‘Oh, those.’ Livie rushed towards Esme and recovered the clips as she frowned with indecision. ‘I need to return them to Mr Horne. They were included in the shoe carton I took home from Lott’s, but the entire package was a mistake. I haven’t convinced myself to give them back – the clips, I mean. I’ve already returned the boots.’ When her friend’s eyes flared in objection, Livie continued in fast defence, ‘Aren’t they pretty? Besides…’ She moved to the mattress where the ivory slippers waited. ‘Attached to the ivory slippers, they are beyond beautiful.’

‘You have to give them back.’ Esme shook her head for emphasis in much the way an adult reprimands a child.

‘I know. I’ve already kept them too long. Will you come along? If Whimsy catches me at Lott’s she’ll hang me by my ankles.’ Livie offered a pleading glance. ‘That way, if by chance we’re caught in the act you can simply say I accompanied you.’

‘I’d rather not tell an untruth. Your sister always knows when I’m hiding something.’ Esme picked up one of the shoes in question and turned it over in her hand.

‘Lud, I
will
be with you. It’s all in the interpretation.’ A weak smile turned her lips. ‘Just this once and then I won’t mention shoes for the rest of my life.’

Esme’s slender eyebrow arched in doubt as she replaced the mule on the counterpane.

‘All right,’ Livie admitted with reluctance, ‘that is an improbability, but I will owe you the greatest favour. Won’t that suffice?’

‘I suppose,’ Esme replied with reluctance, seemingly at war with her better sense.

‘Then let’s go now. Whimsy is still out with Dash and with any luck we can return to Kirby Park before anyone notices we’ve left.’ Livie hurried towards the door, not wanting to chance Esme having a change of heart.

But their smooth course of action did not actuate as planned. When the threesome arrived at Lott’s, for Dinah was inclined to accompany the ladies, the storefront stood dark, the door locked no matter it was half past one in the afternoon and optimum shopping hour.

‘Now I don’t know what to do. This is highly unusual for Mr Horne to be closed. I wonder if he is unwell. This is all rather odd.’ Livie leaned forward and peered into the large display window a second time, her hand levelled above her brows to shield from the sun. ‘Is that a cat on the counter? Am I seeing things? Mr Horne has several, I believe. I remember he once became caretaker to a cat who had its litter in the alley behind the shop. Not wishing to disturb the new family, he chose not to use the backdoor for weeks until the mother moved on.’

‘Honestly, you spend entirely too much time in this store if you know about the stray cats in the alley. Your relationship with Mr Horne is unusual.’ Esme blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Whatever the reason, we’ve come all this way for nothing. What a waste of time.’

‘That settles it. I have no choice but to keep the shoe clips safe until Mr Horne reopens the shop and I pay him a call.’ Livie stood with her hands on her hips, decision made. ‘It can’t possibly hurt to wear them tomorrow night for my debut.’

‘Really? What if you lose one? What if somehow the clip becomes damaged?’ Esme pivoted, set to walk to the corner where the carriage waited with Dinah inside.

‘What if a very handsome suitor sees them and realises I have impeccable taste to match my remarkable dancing and we live happily ever after?’ A ready image of Penwick’s dashing smile materialised in Livie’s mind’s eye.

They shared a lighthearted chuckle until Esme sent her a sidelong glance. ‘Are you going to flirt with Penwick tomorrow evening? Seduce him with smooth dancing and demure conversation?’

‘I can only wish.’ A dreamy smile played about her mouth and she set it free. ‘I can’t stop thinking about our kiss. Everything about the moment is etched in my memory with the finest detail. It was dark in that alcove, but I remember the heat of his touch, delicious smell of his cologne, and the incredible riot of emotion with perfect accuracy. And to think I’ll have the same opportunity tomorrow evening. I do hope all goes as intended. Whimsy has planned the necessary provisions, but for me, the success of the evening hinges on Penwick’s attendance.’ She paused as if to absorb the impact of her statement. ‘Then I need only ask him for escort out on the terrace.’

‘Imagine both Montgomery sisters wedded to earls in consecutive years. The most inexhaustible gossips in London will be forced to acknowledge how very well you’ve collectively managed the marriage mart.’ Esme sounded significantly impressed.

‘I haven’t managed anything yet.’ The reality of that statement was a bitter pill to swallow. ‘I hardly know Penwick aside from his kiss.’ She sighed and stopped short, the carriage a stone’s throw away. Someone behind her mumbled in complaint at her sudden halt in the middle of the sidewalk and bustled past grumbling loudly, but Livie paid no heed.

‘It seems to me a very good place to begin.’ Esme stopped and placed her hand on Livie’s arm in reassurance. ‘What’s the matter?’

Livie shook her head and dismissed the realisation that she had known Randolph so completely without ever having met him, yet one kiss with the Earl had her tied in knots, unsure of everything from footwear to the future. The world was certainly a difficult place to manage. ‘Never mind. We should return before I develop any more harebrained ideas.’

‘Strickler.’

‘Yes, milord.’ The servant stepped from the corner of the dressing room, a fresh pressed waistcoat on a hanger and various dressing articles in hand.

‘I will need a bag packed for two nights, at most.’ Penwick tugged at his shirt sleeves to straighten his lines.

‘Yes, milord. Will you need formal attire to accompany your daily wear?’ Strickler removed the garment from the hanger and offered it forward.

‘No, thank you. Nothing for evening is necessary, nor my fencing plastron and breeches, although I would like my epee and gloves included. One never knows when a sword will come in handy.’ He slid his pocket watch into his vest and attached the chain to the silk thread loop.

‘As you often say, milord.’ Strickler stepped away and returned with black Hessians. ‘Will I accompany you on this travel come morning?’

‘Again, that won’t be necessary.’ He paused, exhausted by the formality of it all, desiring a more congenial relationship and not adept at the transition. At a loss, he blurted out his quandary. ‘I am confounded by my impending nuptials and need a bit of time away.’

Strickler stood silent, as if caught unaware by the personal declaration, and he likely was, Penwick not forthcoming with matters of weighty consideration.

Strickler nodded his head as if he understood without further explanation. ‘It is a natural occurrence. Not all gentlemen transition into husbandry with the natural fluidity experienced by others.’

‘That was very well done of you, Strickler, but the truth prevails I’m concerned I’m making a mistake.’ Voicing the words aloud, at last, proved incredibly freeing. He took a deep breath, and then another, invigorated by the sheer act of confession. ‘Claire is a comely, biddable miss.’

‘How do you feel when you are with your betrothed?’ Strickler busied himself with periphery tasks.

‘I feel as I should – capable, decisive and strong.’ A flare of shame swept through him at his failure to say more, but listing Claire’s attributes neither resolved his unrest nor convinced him he’d made the right choice.

‘And how do you feel when you are with the lady who’s caught your interest?’

Penwick’s head shot up from where he’d worked the buttons at his cuff. He matched eyes with his valet. How did Strickler know? Lord, was his turmoil so apparent? He turned towards the cheval glass, choosing his words carefully. ‘I cannot think. I cannot reason. She overcomes my senses, and from it, I am weakened.’

‘Then indeed you have a decision to make, milord.’

The silence which followed imposed a heavy burden until at last Strickler broke the quiet.

‘I will make the necessary arrangements and see you have all necessities in your valise. Is there anything else, milord?’

Penwick might have chuckled from the irony. ‘No, thank you. You are dismissed.’

Chapter Thirteen

It is unusual and rare to forge a strong friendship through correspondence, yet I feel in kind to the sentiments expressed in your last letter. I haven’t looked into your eyes or waltzed with you or had the ordinary pleasure of hearing your delightful laughter, still I understand as well as I know the sun will rise come morning that someday all these wishes will reach fruition and we shall be together. You live in my heart.

The day had arrived and the house hummed with excitement. Musicians tuned their instruments in the ballroom, servants bustled through the hall placing floral bouquets and polishing marble and brass, while no less than three cooks prepared sumptuous platters of plentiful food from exotic appetisers of Scotch collops, oysters with white wine, and pickled radish with caviar, to clever side dishes of Jerusalem artichokes, buttered rusks and stewed vegetables with capers. Main course selections included roasted pike with pudding in the belly, crab and salamagundy, boiled fowl and cold neat’s tongue accompanied by custard with snippets, and roast partridge with plum sauce. Livie was too invigorated to think about food, although if all went as planned she would recover her appetite by the dessert course, never one to refuse imported macaroons or candied orange peel. Dashwood had arranged for an assortment of Gunter’s ices to be available and the temptation of the refreshing treat after an evening of ballroom dancing promised the perfect ending to her new beginning.

And there was, best of all, the promise of Penwick.

No one mentioned whether the Earl had accepted the invitation Dashwood sent, but with such short notice Livie conciliated Penwick hadn’t time to respond and would show in time for a waltz as fluid and heavenly as when they’d floated across the tiles at Monsieur Bournan’s dance hall. She would save a space on her card. And then, as she’d conspired with Esme, she’d request the Earl’s assistance on the terrace with a claim she needed a breath of fresh air, for no other reason than to tempt another kiss. Her heart beat hard at the thought of the expectant happening.

Now she meandered through the dining room, admiring the colourful streamers in every shade of rose, the table linens set to complement the brilliant silverware and gleaming crystal. The centrepiece plateau included fresh orchids surrounding almond marzipan paste sculptures in miniature butterfly shapes, and beside each place-setting a tiny sugar basket rested, filled with delectable candied bonbons shaped to resemble jewelled fruit. Whimsy had worked tirelessly to create the most wonderful debut and, with a sigh of contentment, Livie realised how very loved and special she felt at this moment.

She left the dining room and hurried to the salon, anxious to thank her aunt, sister and brother-in-law for their efforts and contributions towards her day. She found them together, discussing arrangements and finalising details before guests arrived at eight in the evening, and with a quick glance to the wall clock, she noted that soon she’d need to begin her own preparation.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Her throat constricted with emotion, the words pure sentiment. ‘Kirby Park is transformed. I couldn’t imagine a lovelier party. Thank you. I love you all so very much.’ She rushed forward, anxious to embrace them in a hug of appreciation, but stopped as Aunt Kate stepped forward, a prettily wrapped package in her hands.

‘This is for you, Lavinia. We’re so very proud of all you’ve accomplished. We can’t wait to see what the world has in store for you.’ Aunt Kate’s voice rang with indubitable pride and sentiment.

She kissed Livie on the cheek, followed by Whimsy and lastly Dash. More than a little emotional, Livie settled in the overstuffed chair beside the hearth with the tiny box upon her skirts. ‘Well, it’s too small to be slippers.’ Her giddy laughter was contagious. ‘May I open it now?’

‘Of course.’ Wilhelmina and Dash joined Aunt Kate beside the chair. ‘We hope you like what we’ve chosen.’

‘Oh, I know I do already.’ She glanced upward and then quickly removed the decorative wrapping, followed by the lid of the box. Her breath caught, the jewelled pin composed of diamonds and golden yellow stones in the shape of a monarch butterfly. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘As are you, Livie. And what an amazing alteration has brought you to this point.’ Aunt Kate leaned down and pressed another kiss to her cheek.

‘I will wear it tonight. It will be the perfect addition to my gown.’ She stood and hugged everyone in gratitude. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you, Whimsy? When you were fussing with my neckline and the sash at my waist? You were already calculating where I’d place the brooch.’ They shared another laugh and then the quartet scattered to their respective bedchambers, the process of preparing for the evening’s event a time-consuming endeavour, but well worth every minute.

Penwick rode towards Essex on the finest horse in his stable, a Berber thoroughbred with excellent stamina. It made little sense to leave London with eight days until his marriage, but if the effort cleared his mind it proved time well spent. He’d left Strickler with a long list, arrangements for the wedding trip and instructions for the solicitor to ensure all marital documents were in order, matters he should attend in responsible actuality.

Claire was likely overwhelmed with fittings and letter writing, shopping for her trousseau and the plethora of customary traditions females endured as the wedding day drew near. He heaved a breath of frustration, anxious to surrender the undercurrent of tension to the rhythmic cadence of Viceroy’s hooves pounding the dirt road as he led out of Mile End Green towards the cloud-hazed horizon. With any luck he would return to his childhood home by late afternoon, secure a room at the inn and reconcile whatever discontent consumed him.

Growing up in Essex he’d had the advantages of living close to London, though he’d visited no more than a handful of times, preferring countryside to city life. And while he’d sold his family’s manor house and property once he’d inherited the title, he hoped the new owner would not mind if a stranger, though former owner, wandered onto the surrounding land to stare at his old friend, the paperbark maple. He laughed, the sound lost in the wind. He was losing his grasp on intelligence if he’d chosen to travel for hours on horseback to talk to a tree. He kicked Viceroy into a faster gallop. No, it was more the comfort of returning to his roots and the perspective offered that would assuage his unrest and assist his refocus. No one with the slightest sanity would throw away their life’s plan after experiencing one kiss. Yet in a half-dash decision so out of character he almost abandoned the idea, he’d forced the issue, most especially after his conversation with Strickler, the servant able to offer unbiased advice. The two days were not wasted if Penwick regained his equilibrium and found the inner calm he craved.