The Widow and the Wildcatter: A Loveswept Classic Romance (18 page)

“There now. Turn around and see if that doesn’t look grand!”

Penelope whirled to face the mirror, and then gasped with delight when she saw her new dress. Simple and elegant, the ivory satin ball gown dipped scandalously low in the bodice, only to pause at a black velvet belt, which encircled an impossibly slender waist. The rich fabric then molded to her hips in a daring mermaid silhouette before flouncing to the floor in a charming cascade of ruffles.

“Martha, it’s gorgeous!” Penelope said with pleasure. “You’ve outdone yourself. Why, you will be the talk of the town after the Vanderbilts’ Christmas ball, I will see to it!”

The seamstress beamed as she peered at the woman before her. She couldn’t wish for a better model to showcase her work, for Penelope was truly beautiful. Martha’s head cocked shrewdly as she took in the young woman’s perfect features, the soft blond hair that was the color of pure sunlight, and the rosebud mouth. But it was her eyes that bedazzled even the most casual passerby: violet blue, like the depths of a fairy pool, Penelope Appleton’s gaze made one feel enchanted.

And there was no lack of funds to pay for the dress, Martha thought in approval. The older Appleton sisters had married well, so Penelope could afford any gown of her choosing to make her long-awaited debut.

Looking critically at the garment once more, Martha smoothed a ruffle. “That is very kind, my dear. You will turn every other girl green with envy. And why not? You are the most beautiful of the famous Appleton sisters, after all! Come now, put on your gloves and your earbobs, and let’s go show the ladies!”

Penelope grinned in excitement and, still holding her dress aloft, rushed out to the parlor where Jennifer and Winifred waited with their aunt Eve. The dressmaker
dramatically turned up the gaslights as Penelope stepped out from behind a curtain onto the stage.

Three gasps sounded at once as the sisters rose in unison, while Eve fumbled in her pocket for her lace handkerchief.

“Why, Pen, you are stunning!” Jennifer cried, a toddler on her knee. Scholarly Winifred removed her glasses to polish them on her sleeve, and then peered through the spectacles once more with approval. Aunt Eve dabbed at her eyes, choking back tears before coming to stand before her niece, her face full of emotion.

“You are radiant, my dear! Your parents would have been so proud! Who else would have thought of putting a black velvet ribbon at the waist but you! You were always so clever! Your mother often talked about your debut and the plans she had for all of you. And now with two of you well married,” she glanced at Jennifer and Winifred approvingly, “that only leaves our Penny. I wish your mother could be with us here today!”

“I feel she is,” Penelope whispered, glancing into the mirror with an odd look. “I
know
she is,” she repeated more firmly.

The sisters were silent for a moment, thinking of their parents who had passed several years ago. It was Jennifer who looked up first, gave her sister a grin, and indicated the lovely gown. “I want to hug you, but I’m afraid to wrinkle that dress!”

“Pooh.” Penelope whirled around and opened her arms to embrace them all. This time their tears flowed freely. Eve cried daintily into her linen cloth, careful not to wet the gown, Jennifer choked, and Winifred sniffled.

They made a charming picture. Jennifer, her dark blond hair pulled back into a loose chignon and her mischievous gray eyes brimming with tears, looked as proud as any doting mother. Winifred’s severe bun and restrained dress only emphasized her elegant features, which were filled with affection for her younger sister. And Aunt Eve, plump and pretty in her blue morning dress with her sugar-spun hair gleaming in the lamplight, looked like a fairy godmother.

Even the dressmaker joined in the emotional storm, wailing loudly before blowing her nose into her handkerchief with a snort that startled the other women into laughter.

“There, there, now, we must be careful of the pins!” Martha, realizing the danger to her creation, wedged herself in the middle of the fray. “You can change now, dear. I’ll stitch this up today and be ready to press it tomorrow. Saturday evening, mark my words, you will be the belle of the ball! And then I will be designing your wedding gown!”

Penelope giggled and reluctantly released her sisters, and then turned around so that the dressmaker could unbutton her ball gown. “I know! I mean,” she corrected, “I
hope so!”

* * *

The Vanderbilts’ Christmas ball was a much-anticipated event of the season. Young Alva Vanderbilt and her husband, William, were newlyweds, and they opened their house to celebrate their own happiness as well as to extend their hospitality to their friends and neighbors.

The townhouse was gaily decorated with sprigs of holly and wreaths of laurel, while tiny bouquets of mistletoe nestled above in the kissing boughs. Gilt banisters lining the staircase were festooned with evergreens and bright red ribbons, giving them the appearance of candy canes. Chandeliers dripping with crystals lent a sparkling light to the festivities as servants crossed the black-and-white marble floor carrying silver trays of Champagne and tempting ices and cakes to refresh the guests.

“You all look so handsome!” Eve cried as she stood in the foyer with Penelope. Jennifer and Winifred handed their fur-trimmed cloaks to a servant, while their husbands, Gabriel and Charles, dispensed with their top hats and walking sticks. Jennifer, in a sumptuous ruby-colored gown, appeared festive and lovely, while Winifred was the picture of grace in emerald-green velvet.

The sergeant at arms gestured to Winifred and Jennifer, and then turned to the crowd.

“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Forester, Mr. and Mrs. Howe!”

The company applauded, acknowledging the couples. Jennifer and Winifred descended the stairs with their husbands while nodding to acquaintances. The women joined some friends near the fire, while Gabriel and Charles fetched drinks from a passing waiter.

“Jared!” Charles Howe shook the hand of his friend as he approached. “I was wondering where you were, old chap!”

Jared Marton laughed. Clad in a black suit with a white waistcoat, he looked every inch the successful dashing attorney that he was. Accepting a glass of Champagne, he took Winifred’s hand and kissed it, ignoring the sharp look his friend sent him.

“I wasn’t looking forward to this, I assure you.” He raised his head with a grin. “Debutantes and dances are not to my taste. My parents insisted I attend.”

“You are thirty-four,” Charles said dryly, “and won’t live forever. Perhaps it’s time you took an interest in one of our young ladies. There are many pretty girls in need
of a partner.”

“You are with the most beautiful woman here, and alas, she’s taken. But perhaps Mrs. Howe will generously allow me a waltz?” He gave her a wicked grin.

Winifred laughed. “I would be happy to dance, Mr. Marton. But you are acquainted with my sister Penelope? I believe they are announcing her now.”

“Madame Eve Appleton …” The deep male voice resonated, breaking through the chatter. “And making her debut this evening, her niece Miss Penelope Appleton!”

A hush seemed to fall over the room as Penelope stepped forward. She was unearthly beautiful, poised on the marble landing beneath the twinkling lights, and more than one man looked to the heavens as he beheld her. The ivory satin gown gave her the appearance of a Christmas angel amid the darker velvets of the season. A string of simple pearls adorned her throat, and tiny diamonds added sparkle to a face that needed no embellishment. Her blond hair, gleaming in the chandelier light, was tied back with a black band that matched the one at her waist, letting her curls fall artfully around her cheekbones. Demurely, she held a nosegay of white roses and baby’s breath, while her dance card fluttered in enticing invitation from her gloved wrist. When she began to descend the stairs, the applause was thunderous.

“My God,” Jared breathed. Dumbstruck, he could do nothing for several seconds but gawk at the gorgeous creature before him as she walked gracefully down the stairs and was immediately thronged by men. He had met Penelope in the past, and like all men, had admired her beauty, but he’d merely thought of her as Winnie’s baby sister. Yet now, all grown up, dressed in a gown that could have come from Paris, she looked like Aphrodite herself.

Desire, hot and urgent, throbbed in his blood, but what he felt was more than simply appreciation for her looks. He wanted her, all of her, totally and completely. It didn’t matter that she was ridiculously young. It didn’t matter that she was the sister of his good friend Winifred. It didn’t matter that he would have tons of competition for the fabled beauty, or that she was notorious, being an Appleton. Nothing mattered except that he make her his own, regardless of the cost.

“Jared?” Winifred lightly touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

“I think your baby sister has made another conquest,” Charles joked as Jared shook his head, as if trying to rid his brain of an enchantment. “You’d better get in there if you hope to secure a dance,” he advised his fellow lawyer. “She’s surrounded by beaux. I wouldn’t be surprised if her card was already full.”

“We’ll see about that.” Purposefully, Jared rebuttoned his glove and squared his shoulders, as if preparing for battle. He didn’t care if it was one swain or a
thousand—this night would not pass without him securing a dance. He strode purposefully through the crowd, directly toward the girl who was causing such a stir, ignoring the comments and inquiries all around him like the buzz of a thousand hornets. Penelope Appleton had certainly made an impact on the staid New York society.

And on him.

* * *

Penelope’s lips parted in shock and she paused as she saw a man approaching, parting the sea of black coats like a knight charging into battle. Neville Johnston was entreating her to taste a sugared plum, but she couldn’t even move to respond.
It was him
. Their eyes locked, and neither one of them could look away. Her heart beat so loudly that she wondered if others could hear it, and she had to force herself to take another breath as the heady emotion flooded through her.

It was
him
. Jared Marton was the dark-haired stranger in her dreams! Penelope knew it instantly. Why had she never noticed how handsome he was, that his eyes were a compelling deep green, his chin firm and square, his mouth a sensual promise? He really was a magnificent specimen of a man, she mused, even though he was known as a rogue and one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. Wealthy to boot, he was popular with the ladies, though he seemed to have no intention of settling down with just one. He enjoyed women, had a zest for life, and was used to having his own way.

This man was her destiny
.

She couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement that raced through her.

“Master Dmitri doesn’t expect sex.” Cora grunted. “You’ll keep your clothes on.”

Presley Flynn scanned the foyer of the snazzy mansion and looked for something to hold on to as her roommate, Cora Adams, hustled her down the corridor. With a little shove, Cora added, “You wanted this, remember?”

“Clearly, I’ve lost my damn mind.” Presley pushed back against Cora’s hands, trying to hold her ground.

The mansion was pleasant, with thick dark wood on the trim of the doorways and gentle burgundy-painted walls, but it did nothing to settle her nerves. Beneath her feet, located in the basement, was the elite BDSM dungeon, Club Sin. “Maybe I need to go to a therapist. Or skip that part and go straight to the nuthouse.”

Cora stepped in front of Presley, and her big blue eyes, lined with dark makeup, sparkled. Her long chocolate-colored hair fell over her black blouse, and her red lipstick covered pursed lips. “You told me you wanted to join the dungeon.”

Presley snorted. “You said I was a long-lost submissive who needed the lifestyle. Which, apparently, is so far from the truth, since why am I on the verge of puking all over this fancy hardwood floor?”

Cora smirked. “Please don’t puke on Master Dmitri’s floor.”

“Okay, great,” Presley muttered in total agreement. “See, it’s best I leave.”

She turned to get the hell out of the place when Cora grabbed her arm, pulling Presley back in front of her. “One chance, Presley, that’s all you get. If you leave now, you won’t be allowed to come back.”

Cora walked forward, and Presley found herself matching her stride. They passed a grand wooden staircase on the left, leading to the upstairs. A huge wrought-iron balcony curved around the entire upper floor, which led to numerous doors used for God knew what.

They strode by an oval-shaped dining room, and Cora added, “There’s a reason why you read so many BDSM erotic novels. There’s a reason why it turns you on. And there’s a reason why you made the decision to come with me tonight.”

Stopping near the doorway to the office that Presley had been avoiding for the last five minutes, she inhaled. “You’re right. I did come here for a reason.” To surrender to her every desire. “I don’t want to walk out the front door, but—” She pointed toward the office. “I’m scared shitless to walk through that door.”

“Of course you are.” Cora grinned. “Your darkest, most secret fantasies await you in that office.” Without another word, she spun on her heel and headed down the hallway in the opposite direction.

“Do you plan on coming in?”

Presley started at the powerful low voice that seemed to draw her forward, giving the fearful butterflies in her stomach a flutter of excitement. Her feet moved without thought as she entered the office, which looked much like a library.

Books filled the shelves at the far end of the room, along with a grand wooden desk. A computer and telephone and other office accessories sat on top of it. A sleek black leather couch was situated straight ahead, under the bay window.

“Ah, she finally decides to enter.”

Presley froze, as time halted. The man never raised his head to look at her, but he didn’t need to. His presence filled the room, making her entirely aware of him. He sat at the desk, his head bowed toward the paper he’d been reading. With the slight curve to his mouth, he stole the air from her lungs. He was hot.