His Forbidden Debutante (27 page)

‘Foolish friend, we will always need each other. No reason to worry, Reynard.’ Allowing the cat freedom, he watched as the feline settled near his feet in an indolent pose that expressed he was in no such hurry as his master.

Moira walked to a leather valise resting on the mattress, the only remaining bag to be completed. He removed a shiny brass chatelaine from a silky pouch and held the large ring towards the window, sunlight poking through every crease and crevice to outline the five keys dangling from the loop. With a slight smile, he gave the ring a shake, the clink of the keys as they struck each other evoking a chuckle before he replaced it inside the pouch. ‘So many possibilities await.’ This time he spoke more to himself than the cat, who seemed content in his complaisant recline.

Next he opened a brown, weathered purse, the weight of the three coins inside transferred to his waiting palm where the cool gold met his warm caress. Luck, love and fortune – each coin depicted a symbolic engraving which portrayed these fates. ‘What more could a man need, Reynard?’ The tabby twitched in response and Moira dropped the coins into the purse, tucking it into the valise beside the chatelaine. He buttoned the compartments closed and then fastened the top of the valise.

‘It’s time to depart. Get in your basket, my friend.’ He tsked an affectionate sound and advanced to the window to part the curtains. He glanced down to the circular drive of the inn where his barouche was tethered to an iron post. At the front, his team, a pair of snow-white stallions, stood at attention in imperturbable wait for him to take up the ribbons.

Without another word, he collected Reynard and gathered his precious belongings. Love awaited and he couldn’t spare another moment of dalliance.

Randolph apprised Strickler of the most recent happenings in an attempt to assuage the valet’s horror as he returned home, bedraggled, and in more resemblance to a scoundrel than a peer. Several long, silent minutes ticked past while the valet absorbed the impact of his master’s appearance. At last, after swallowing what could only be sheer disappointment, the servant spoke.

‘Your waistcoat, milord, was sewn from imported silk, the finest threads available in France.’

How distraught the man sounded.

‘Yes.’ Perhaps Strickler needed more time to recover from the impact of such disassembly.

‘The buttons on your left cuff are gone, milord. They were white oyster and specially commissioned, engraved with the family crest.’ Strickler’s melancholic utterance faded to nothing more than a forlorn whisper in the empty foyer.

‘I am aware.’ What could he say to improve the situation? ‘We shall order more, dozens, with haste. And if the silk was to your liking you have my leave to commission several more pieces for my wardrobe to replace and supplement the ruined items.’

‘I shan’t be able to salvage your Hessians.’ The valet appeared on the verge of tears.

‘I’ve another four pair.’ He needed to buoy the devoted man’s spirits somehow. ‘And these’ – he cast a dismissing glance downward at his boots, irreparably stained and creased – ‘pinched my toes.’

This seemed to mollify Strickler who slowly recovered his sense of service.

‘A hot bath and warm brandy at once then, milord.’ A bright spark of hope lit the valet’s eyes.

‘As usual, Strickler, you’ve read my mind.’ Penwick took the stairs, his boots pounding the treads in his hurry. ‘I will need to make arrangements for the wedding.’

‘The wedding, milord? I thought… from what you told me…’ Again the servant stuttered to comprehend. The question hung in the air, suspended, as if oblivious to how everything had come crashing down. ‘You’ve had a change of heart?’

‘I’ve had a change of bride.’ Penwick reached the landing and tossed a satisfied grin over his shoulder, certain he would destroy Strickler’s stoic demeanour if he didn’t lighten the mood. He caught the newel post and pivoted, the pulse of anticipation brought on by the admittance invigorating to say the least. ‘And to lay rest to your extended enquiry, to Claire my heart was never involved. Duty would be a better label. Much has changed in a short period of time.’ He’d all but reached his bedchamber doors, his valet chasing his wake. ‘If further explanation is necessary, I’ll elucidate after my bath.’

‘Every time I turn around you’re running off somewhere. I doubt this is what Dr Morris intended when he said you’d be back on your feet and kicking up your heels.’ Wilhelmina rushed after Livie as she left the drawing room to meet Dinah in the front foyer.

‘I’m only going to Esme’s house. Would you like to join me?’ She didn’t wait for her sister to reply or object, but continued talking with a sense of urgency which likely goaded her sister. ‘I have to see for myself that my dearest friend is well. I placed her in danger with my foolish actions and I’ll never forgive my selfish choices if she has suffered in any manner. Now that Dash has the shoe clips and will seek out a resolution on my behalf, I need only to achieve this one last task before dedicating my time to wedding plans.’ With hope, she would distract Whimsy with the talk of her upcoming marriage. Her sister did enjoy party planning. Of course, nothing had been formalised as of yet. She hadn’t spoken to Dash since he confronted Randolph this morning, but after what they’d both experienced and overcome, she couldn’t imagine anything else standing in their way of a happy future.

‘Take at least two footmen with you. And what do you mean, upcoming wedding? Things are happening too fast for my comfort. I’ve never even met the Earl of Penwick other than when he rode up our drive and returned you in complete dishevel.’

Wilhelmina stopped her chase and stood, hands on hips, imploring Livie to take heed, and she did so. She knew in her heart every chastising word and snippet of superfluous advice came from a sincere place of concern. ‘You will adore the Earl of Penwick, Whimsy. He is a very good man and I believe I’ve known him my entire life. First as a wish, then as a friend, and now… well, I’ve already said enough.’ She smiled a grin so large her ears moved.

‘Lavinia.’

With slow, careful steps, Whimsy approached and Livie almost laughed. Her sister couldn’t possibly believe she would bolt out the front door in the middle of their conversation. ‘I will be fine, and yes, I’ll take extra footmen along with my maid. Now please, allow me to leave so I can return all the sooner.’

Esme greeted Livie and Dinah at the door and they fell into a frenzied conversation over tea and poppyseed cakes, where Livie retold the more overt concurrences since being abducted in the alley, mindful to omit the more intimate. While Esme was her closest confidante and truest friend, some things weren’t meant to be shared, the specialty of being the sole person to cherish the secret reward in itself.

Instead, when they finished their refreshment, they decided Esme would fetch a full basket from the kitchen and they’d walk around the block to visit Mr Horne who resided in a nearby apartment on Crowning Street, the food a gesture of hospitality and warm wishes. They donned their wool shawls, wrapped tightly to guard against a chill, and set out.

With any luck, they’d be able to leave their gift of good tiding with the housekeeper who would in turn tell Mr Horne of their visit. Livie hoped to learn when the shop would reopen and perhaps alleviate a smidgeon of the guilt which had burdened her heart, since the obvious conclusion implicated her possession of the shoe clips as having instigated the trouble Mr Horne had experienced. She hoped he wasn’t ailing too terribly, although she feared the worst.

They stepped lively as the weather was brisk, and were poised to cross the last thoroughfare and approach Mr Horne’s address when a crack of a whip and clatter of hooves drew their attention in the opposite direction. Making way down the roadway was the same magnificent barouche and team they’d spied when waiting for ices at Gunter’s not that long ago. This time due to their proximity to the curb, they could easily see the driver on the box, who tipped his stout derby in their direction.

‘I believe that was my dance instructor.’ Livie’s statement laced with incredibility as if she herself could not believe it true.

‘Could that be possible? I’ve never seen a finer assemblage and those horses look like something from the pages of a fairy tale.’ Esme’s voice held a fascinated quality.

‘It’s difficult to mistake his moustache. Did you take note?’ Livie pursed her lips and twisted her fingertips near the corners of her mouth to mimic the outlandish facial hair.

‘Yes.’ Esme gave a little nod and laugh. ‘I did.’

They stalled no longer, the confusing image of the elegant barouche not enough to deter their mission. When they arrived with their offering, the kind woman at the door insisted they enter as Mr Horne lacked company and would welcome the diversion of such lovely companionship. Dinah trailed behind as they followed down a narrow hall and settled in a modest salon decorated in a pale shade of green accented with persimmon and amber. It would appear Mr Horne had a critical eye for colour to meld with his discerning taste. No wonder his footwear designs were impeccable.

The room was lined with large mahogany bookcases filled with an eclectic mix of objects and leather-bound books. Furniture was limited to seating and a delightful refreshment table crowned with a curved edge and scroll design above the lathe-turned legs. Lying across the back of the sofa was a thick blanket trimmed in coffee-brown, which immediately brought to mind the skating boots Livie had envisioned gracing her feet as she sailed across the frozen Serpentine. How much simpler life had seemed before that morning when she’d found the charm bracelet and discovered the Earl. A shot of excitement accompanied her remembrance. Soon she would have many recollections of staring into his decadent brown eyes. She’d meet each day heart-warmed from Penwick’s embrace.

She removed her shawl and placed it over the arm of the chair, suspecting it was her adoration for Randolph heating her from the inside out more so than the cosy fire in the nearby hearth.

‘I hope he is happy to receive us. The housekeeper persisted, but if Mr Horne is truly ailing, I doubt he wants two ladies pestering him this afternoon.’ Esme leaned close, her expression one of concern.

‘We will keep our visit short.’ Livie patted her friend’s arm to emphasise her intention. ‘But I must apologise and plead for his forgiveness. I would never be able to live with myself otherwise.’

Mr Horne entered as Livie finished her declaration. He appeared a trifle gaunt, likely having lost weight from the ordeal, but otherwise seemed genuinely pleased to see them both.

‘Aren’t I the lucky one to receive unexpected and lovely visitors today?’ He greeted them with a grand smile and took a seat. ‘I’ve been anxious to speak to you especially, Miss Montgomery.’

Livie’s brows rose with curiosity. ‘With me?’ She swallowed trepidation as a flush of guilt and abject shame caused her cheeks to heat. How foolish to believe she would escape a sound tongue-thrashing since she’d brought such misery into the shopkeeper’s life.

‘Yes, I hoped to visit you once I recovered completely, but now you have saved me the trouble and offered me the opportunity all the sooner. I need to extend my gratitude. Had you not encountered the diamond shoe clips, I would never have become aware a smuggler used my shop for his theft of stolen gemstones. While I recovered from the incident, I hired an investigator who revealed Lott’s Majestic was unwittingly involved in a chain of transport for purloined diamonds. I won’t bore you with the intricacies of the perfidy. Information such as that is not congenial feminine conversation.’ Mr Horne smiled again and adjusted his position in the chair. ‘Needless to say, the investigation is ongoing, but with the shop closed and in wait of remodelling, I’ve time to take inventory of how things progressed. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘But Mr Horne, I should have returned the clips promptly. Instead I kept them for almost a week and instigated the confrontation which led to your injuries. For that, I am truly sorry.’ She shook her head with despair. ‘I hope you can find the kindness to forgive me.’

‘No apology is necessary when it is I who needs to thank you. I’ve meant to expand for some time now. This series of events, while unfortunate, also permits the opportunity to remodel. For that I am thankful. But there is more.’ He paused and raised his hand as if to ward off any interruption. ‘I hope you will accept a token of my gratitude. Whenever you need shoes, Miss Montgomery, please know you have the pick of my shop, free of charge, however often you wish.’

A dizzying sensation swirled through Livie at Mr Horne’s outrageous offer, but truly, she couldn’t accept, no matter how tempting. And such a grand gesture was indeed tempting. ‘Thank you, but your offer is far too generous.’ She watched as his expression faltered, a shadow of disappointment clouding his eyes. ‘Although I would ask a favour, if you have the time...’

Mr Horne nodded, listening with keen interest.

‘I’ve dreamed of the most darling skating boots.’

He barely allowed her to finish. ‘Time? Yes. I’ve plenty of that now.’

‘Mr Horne?’ Esme’s gentle voice eased into the conversation. ‘How are you feeling? When we saw the shop’s door locked and the interior in dreadful disarray, we didn’t know what to think.’

‘Ladies, please, do not fuss. I’m fine. A few bruises, nothing more.’ He straightened his shoulders as if to prove his claim. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve spent time sketching a whole new line for the spring. If you’d like to humour an old man, I would enjoy showing you a few of my designs. A woman’s input might add the perfect touch to the selections.’ His solicitous attitude was contagious.

Livie eyed Esme with a broad grin. ‘We would be honoured.’ She squeezed Esme’s arm to expend some of her excitement.

Mr Horne summoned his housekeeper who returned with a broad folder and large sketch pad. Once he revealed the first few slipper designs, ideas were flowing with enthusiasm, Livie and Esme enthralled to be part of the process. And the shoemaker couldn’t have been more delighted. With a gleam in his eyes, he set to work and pencilled notes with a flourish, one particular design dedicated to a pair of elegant ice-skate boots.