Corseting The Earl

by Killarney Sheffield

  “I have heard of things like that happening. My sister acquired quite the aversion to eggs with her last pregnancy and craved pumpkin tarts and marzipan at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Really? How odd,” she murmured, lulled by the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze rustling the leaves on the trees.

  “Yes…to crave marzipan of all things, ghastly sweet stuff.”

  She glanced at Heath. “You do not like it?”

  He made a face. “No, I am not a fan of sweets at all, I am afraid.”

  “That explains it then,” she mumbled to herself.

  “Explains what?” He sat up and focused on her with those clear blue eyes of his that reminded her of the pond back home on a sunny day.

  “Nothing.” When he cocked an eyebrow, she sighed. “It explains why you are so…fit.”

  “Speaking of fit, you will be starting to show soon. What will you do then?”

  Pippa closed her eyes again, wishing she could block out the idea of the child growing within her as easily as the sun. “I shall have to leave off my corsets, but my gowns should hide a babe for a couple months. After that I am hoping you have ceased your Percephany charade, and or captured your spy so I might settle in that cottage you promised me.”

  “Right.” Heath was silent for a few minutes. “You will be shunned as an unwed mother, you know.”

  “I know.” She grimaced at the thought.

  “You might pass for a young widow, but that is rather farfetched, given you will be seen circulating London as a poor untitled debutante now.”

  “I suppose.” A bee buzzed by her ear and she opened her eyes. The fat yellow and black insect circled a patch of daisies before deciding on a bright yellow buttercup instead. Smiling at its busy motions, Pippa studied it as it gathered pollen.

  Heath shifted beside her on the bench. “So, what kind of shop would you like?”

  The bee flew away and Pippa stared up at the few puffy clouds drifting across the sky. “I had not really given it much thought as of yet. Perhaps a ribbon shop.”

  “Ribbon?”

  “Um…and lace. A shop with pretty things like that…and hat pins.”

  “Hat pins and lace, a very…interesting combination.”

  “I used to rush to help mama and papa unpack the crates of goods when they were delivered. We never got things as beautiful as those you purchased on my behalf on our shopping trip. Still for a young girl, the likes of the goods that arrived was always a joy. Lady Stone once ordered her daughter a pair of lovely blue silk slippers. They were adorned with ribbon and even tiny diamonds. I had never seen anything so pretty before. Mama told me I must not touch them, but I sneaked into the shop early one morning and put them on when no one was about. I still remember how soft and light they were. I put them back in the box afterward, afraid someone could tell they had been worn even for those few minutes.”

  “I cannot imagine what it is like to want something material and not get it.”

  Pippa turned her head to peer at Heath. “Imagine that. I never really went without, mind you. I had well-made clothes and such, but I always wanted to be a fine lady. Perhaps that is why I fell for Mitchel. His father is very rich and powerful, you know.”

  Heath snickered. “I am sure I know many richer and more powerful than a mere squire.”

  “Do tell?”

  He sat up. “Can you keep a secret?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I have not ousted you as a man, have I?”

  “True.” Heath looked around as if to make sure they were alone and then leaned close. “I am Heath Sedgewick, Earl of Sedgewick and Killiam Shire.”

  With a gasp she sat up and studied him with a critical eye. “Second in command of the Whig Party? You cannot be.”

  He chuckled. “You have heard of me, I see.”

  “Well, not exactly. My father has talked about you many times. He is a big supporter.”

  “Well at least I am not conspiring with the enemy.” Heath settled back on the bench.

  Pippa giggled. “If only my father knew his daughter was sitting in London, playing dress up doll with the esteemed Lord Sedgewick.” She sobered. “So, do you really mean to keep your word and buy me a cottage?”

  He nodded. “And a shop.”

  “Imagine that.” She grinned. “And here I thought you were probably nothing more than a noddy street cleaner, playing spy.”

  “Did you really?” When she nodded he frowned. “Well, lucky for you I am much better off than that.”

  They basked in the sun’s rays for a while in silence. Finally Pippa asked, “So, the Whigs are convinced that, with the King’s failing health, Queen Charlotte will be placed on the throne?”

  “Yes, rumor has it this new liberalist movement will seek to oust Charlotte’s own children. Once the Queen is on the throne, the party will control her every move, and thus England as a whole.”

  “But the parliament has to answer to all parties in the House of Lords, does it not, and therefore, one would assume there would be those to stand against such a display of power?”

  She thought she saw a glimmer of admiration sweep across Heath’s face, but it disappeared just as quickly. “You are very shrewd, Miss Nickle. Yes, one would think there would be enough opposition to ensure a fair rule. However, the lines appear blurred to many of those who sit in the House of Lords, such as your young viscount.”

  Pippa snorted. “My young viscount? Please, we both know he could not be interested in a lowly merchant’s daughter like me. He is just amusing himself at my expense, I think, until a more connected female catches his fancy. You forget I have had a harsh education in these things these last few months at Mitchel’s hand.”

  His look grew sober. “And for that I am truly sorry. It should not have been so. The scoundrel who stole your innocence should be made to pay for his deceit.”

  “That will not happen, and I will not force the issue at the cost of my family’s prosperity, or my life.” She looked away, blinking back her tears at the thought of never seeing her family again.

  Heath took her hand in his. “What does he hold over you and yours to make you fear him so?”

  She sniffed and regarded him with unease. Could she trust him with her secret as he trusted her with his? The secret’s burden ate at her daily. “Mitchel claims Mary Baglo’s disappearance was his doing, because he got her with child too.”

  “Who is this Mary?”

  “The cobbler’s second daughter.” Pippa sighed. “If I go to Mitchel’s father he will deny the child and destroy all my father has worked for, leaving my family humiliated and destitute. If I stay, my family will know humiliation by my hand, until Mitchel has a chance to strangle the life from me and sink me in the pond like he did Mary.”

  “Surely you could appeal to the magistrate to see justice is done?”

  Pippa shook her head. “No, for everyone knows the magistrate does the squire’s bidding, and, besides, it would be my word against the son of a squire and I have no proof of Mary’s demise.”

  “I see.” Heath pursed his lips.

  “Promise me you will not tell. I came here hoping to start a new life and leave my mistakes behind me.” Pippa turned a pleading stare to him.

  He nodded without looking at all convinced. “I promise I shall keep your secret.”

  “Thank you.” She eased her hand from his and stood. “My lord?”

  He glanced at her. “Yes?”

  Stifling a giggle, she crooked her finger. “If you are going to play at being a woman you must act like one.”

  A frown wrinkled his brow under the thick face powder. “Whatever do you mean? Do you expect me to swoon and bat my eyelashes?”

  “Nothing that theatrical, I assure you,” Pippa groused. “For starters, it might help if you were to walk in a more ladylike fashion.”

  His jaw tightened. With a roll of his eyes he pivoted and sashayed toward her with a sickly sweet grin.

  Pippa clapped a
hand over her mouth at the wide sway of his hips as he held his one hand aloft in a limp gesture of femininity. Tilting to one side, he failed to apply his skirt lifter. The bulky material gathered under foot, tripping him up. His eyes widened as he flailed and then toppled to the bench.

  “Deuce it!”

  Ignoring his vulgar cuss, she pointed out the dangling silver skirt lifter. “One must use her skirt lifter with a gown, my lord. Else the bulk will trip you up, as you just so awkwardly demonstrated.” Pippa smirked at his dirty look. “And honestly, if I ever saw a woman walk as you just did, I would wonder from what ghastly affliction she suffered. Ladies do not wiggle, my lord, they glide.”

  Giving her a skeptical look he attached his skirt lifter and tried again. “For someone who is not a lady, you sure think you know a lot about the situation.”

  “My mother is the second daughter of a barony, if you must know. My grandfather disowned her when she ran off with my father. Money did not matter to my mother. She loves my father and was quite content to give up her life of privilege for a merchant.” She twirled her finger. “Again, my lord, and no vulgar wiggling, skirt lifter in one hand, reticule in the other.” Once he mastered a more ladylike demeanor she nodded. “Much better. I am afraid I am feeling quite tired after all. If you will excuse me, I would like to retire to my bedchamber until time to ready for the theater this evening.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heath fussed with the light shawl wound around his neck to conceal his Adam’s apple. Pippa’s story touched him. The pain and fear in her eyes told him her tale, or much of it at least, was true. He stared at his, or rather Percephany’s, reflection in the dressing table mirror. If nothing else his stint as a widow had opened his eyes to many a woman’s plight, regardless of whether self-inflicted, or man inflicted. A trace of guilt lingered at the thought of his own gender being as callous as Mitchel. Pushing it aside, he began to apply fresh face paint as Pippa tidied the room. “What play did the viscount say we were attending tonight?”

  “Um…something called, The Excursions of Mr. Brouček to the Moon and to the fifteenth Century.”

  “Ah, yes, the Bohemian play.”

  Pippa tilted her head. “Really? How interesting that sounds.”

  Heath snorted. “I would much rather see something more traditional in nature, but I suppose it cannot be any worse than Lady Lydia’s tale.”

  “Are you still sore about having to read that book?” The corner of her mouth turned up into a quirky grin.

  “Absolute rubbish, it is. Why, I could write a much more titillating tale of love and lust.”

  “Really?” Pippa giggled. “I would like to see that.”

  Heath made a face at her in the mirror and rubbed some color onto his cheeks. “Well, really, it is nothing but hearsay and innuendos.”

  “As opposed to what, actual scenes of debauchery?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, if you are going to read about something forbidden and taboo, you might as well include the actual acts themselves.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you saying the author should have writ the actual sordid details of their bedchamber encounters?”

  “For starters, from what I read, not a whole lot of it actually occurred in the sanctity of a bedchamber.”

  Two bright spots of red appeared on her cheeks, which matched the paint he smeared on his. “You are simply scandalous! It makes me wonder if any woman’s virtue would be safe around the likes of you.”

  “Hey, you are the one who made me read the thing in the first place,” he pointed out, packing up his face paint box.

  “Well, I certainly would not have if I had known how you would interpret it.” Pippa folded the last pair of stockings and set them in the drawer.

  A tap on the door interrupted their conversation. “Mrs. Doyle, Miss Nickle, his lordship and the ladies await you below.”

  Pippa closed the drawer. “Coming, Patrice.”

  Heath stood and ran a critical eye down his appearance in the mirror. “Right, shall we?”

  “Gloves,” Pippa reminded.

  “Right, I almost forgot again.”

  “What would you do without me?” She handed him a pair of white gloves.

  His hand held hers a moment too long before he took the gloves. “I am beginning to wonder.”

  She blinked, and then her gaze slid from his. “Come along, we do not want to keep the viscount waiting.”

  “No,” he mumbled, annoyed at the little stab of jealousy needling him at the mention of their host. “We would not want to do that.”

  * * *

  The viscount escorted them to a lower balcony box in the theater. “This is my brother’s box, but he is cocooned in the country awaiting the birth of his heir, so he has kindly loaned me use of it for the season.”

  Heath resisted the urge to sit between Pippa and the viscount. Though he would have liked to keep some space between the two, common sense told him the more distance he kept between himself and their host the better, in case he should draw undue attention to himself. He sat at the end of the row, directly across from the lower doors to the lobby. With a trained eye, he observed the comings and goings of the gentry and commoners alike in attendance to see the show, while keeping an ear tuned to the conversation between his host and the women. Before long, the lights were extinguished and the theater fell silent as the play began.

  Heath stretched out his legs and settled back in his chair to watch the performance. Though the play was amusing, he found he just couldn’t concentrate on the stage. Was he being delusional, or was his feeling of unease well-founded? Something in the pit of his stomach told him this night wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark, yet he could not shake the sensation someone was watching them.

  When intermission was finally called, the lights went up and he sat up straighter to peruse the crowd below. A young man met his stare for a moment before he arose and headed for the lobby.

  Viscount Rylee stood. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I will go see some refreshments are brought to our box.” He glanced below and then exited through the curtain at the rear of their private seating area.

  Heath frowned. It was customary for servants to make the rounds of the private boxes with trays of refreshments for the wealthy theater goers, and as such there was no need for the viscount to go searching for them himself. He stood. “Oh, look, there is my dear friend Mrs. Potter from the country. If you will excuse me, I would dearly like to go pay my regards.” Heath leaned over the balcony. “Halloo, Mrs. Potter,” he called to no one in particular. A low class woman looked up and then made her way to the lobby. Heath turned to Lady Allan. “I shall be right back, my lady.” With that he hurried to the exit and then down stairs searching for Viscount Rylee.

  He found the viscount behind a column, almost hidden, deep in conversation with the young man who had caught his eye earlier. Heath inched as close as he dared in an attempt to overhear the conversation.

  “…one thousand pounds….” the young man said with an anxious glance around the crowded room.

  “I will arrange that with my solicitor, but it must be picked up under another name, for I want no connection to be found between us.”

  “Very well.” The young man straightened and brushed a lock of honey blonde hair from his eye. His gaze settled on something and his eyes grew round. Heath followed his stare.

  Pippa rounded the corner and then came to an abrupt halt. Her face paled and her hand touched her lips. “Mitchel, what are you doing here?”

  The young man frowned. “I might ask you the same thing, Pippa.”

  Viscount Rylee glanced back and forth between the two and then volunteered, “Miss Nickle and her cousin, Mrs. Doyle, are here as my guests from Bracenville. They have come to attend her other cousin’s nuptials, and I did convince them to join me in the city for a few days. Are you two well acquainted?”

  Mitchel darted a glance at the viscount. “Yes—
”

  “No,” Pippa interjected with a nervous flutter of her hands. “We are from the same town, is all.” She scanned the room and then her panicked gaze settled on Heath. “Oh, there you are Mrs. Doyle, I was just looking for you. It seems refreshments have been served to our box after all.”

  Reluctant to reveal himself, but left with little other choice, Heath stepped forward. “Oh, lovely, Miss Nickle, I was getting quite parched, you know.”

  Pippa took her arm. “As was I. Did you speak with your friend?”

  Heath shook his head. “No, alas I lost sight of her in the crowd.”

  “Oh dear, I am so sorry.” Pippa tugged Heath’s arm. “Well come along, we should have our refreshment before the next act begins.” She cast a stiff smile in Mitchel’s direction. “So good to see you again, sir. Are you coming, Lord Rylee?”

  “Yes, yes…ah…good day, Sir,” The viscount said and then bowed to Pippa and Heath. “Come along, we should not like to miss the second act.”

  As they climbed the stairs back to their box level, Heath couldn’t help but wonder about the strange meeting. What were the thousand pounds for? It seemed an extravagant amount of money. And how did the squire’s son and the viscount know each other? And was it a mere coincidence Mitchel and Pippa were both at the theater? Were the three somehow connected and in league to see Charlotte on the throne? Rather than watch the performance, Heath mulled the ideas over and over in his mind the rest of the night, yet could come to no concrete theory.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pippa sat at the dressing table and brushed out her hair, as the maid put away her clothing and tidied the room before bed. Of all the people Pippa might have expected to see in London, Mitchel was the least likely. What was he doing here? Did he tell the viscount of her fallen virtue? If he did, she was certain he would have left out his part in her fall from grace. If he knew, would the viscount turn them from his home and send them back to Bracenville? Though they had to return to town by the end of the week, she certainly did not want to have to leave earlier, and definitely not in disgrace. What would her aunt and uncle say? Surely they would send her packing right back to her parents.