They pulled up at the Avondale Tea House and disembarked. Lord Atworthy was already in attendance and had secured a table in the back Persian tropical room. The room was walled off from the rest of the tea house by large wooden doors, that led into a chamber of sorts and then through another set of doors into a completely glassed-in greenhouse. Fountains spewed water that ran in manmade brick lined streams, winding in and around tables set up amongst the tall potted trees, ferns and flowers.
Pippa couldn’t help but exclaim when she caught sight of the beautiful exotic butterflies that fluttered to and fro among the tropical vegetation and brightly colored table umbrellas. “This is like a fantasy world,” she breathed.
Lord Atworthy smiled. “Ah, this is your first time to this particular teahouse, Miss Nickle?”
She craned her neck to see a brilliant black and gold butterfly hoovering above. “Yes. It is so beautiful!”
The viscount chuckled and offered his arm as they followed the server to their table.
Before she could accept, Heath stepped between them and took his arm. “How enchanting a place, my lord, you are so lucky to be able to come here as often as you wish.”
Viscount Rylee cleared his throat and escorted Heath along with a wistful glance at Pippa.
Lord Atworthy offered his arm to Pippa with a sour look at the young viscount.
It mattered little to Pippa who escorted whom, she was far too busy taking in the fairy tale like surroundings. Perhaps she should insist Heath purchase her a house and shop here in London so she could come for tea as often as she wished. The idea gave her pause when she realized once she was no longer escorted by Lord Rylee, and or Lord Atworthy, she would not be accepted past the door of the festive tea house, or in any fine dining room as such. An unwed merchant’s daughter would have to be content with merely peering in a window.
Once they were seated another servant arrived with a tray of tiny cucumber sandwiches, delicate finger cakes and a hot pot of chamomile tea.
Viscount Rylee helped himself to a cake from the tray in the center of the table. “There is a political rally being held tonight at Almack’s I thought you might be interested in attending, Miss Nickle.”
“Oh, no, not I, my lord, politics does not interest me in the least, for what use is an in depth knowledge of something women have no say in?” Pippa bit into her sandwich.
Heath cleared his throat and batted his eyelashes at the viscount. “I would love to attend with you, my lord. What better way to learn than to observe a real debate? I mean, how exciting would that be?”
Lord Atworthy spoke up. “I would be pleased to escort you to the rally, Mrs. Doyle.” He shot a looked laced with challenge at the younger man.
Lord Rylee looked openly relieved. “Yes, Mrs. Doyle, Lord Atworthy would be an excellent escort for such an event if you would truly like to learn, for he has been around politics a lot longer than I.” When Lord Atworthy scowled he added, “No offense to his age, of course.”
“You are a Tory supporter then?” Heath asked.
Lord Atworthy drew himself up tall. “Of course I am, though I hear some of us cannot make up our minds on such important matters.” He shot a stiff look at the viscount and then took a sip of his tea.
Eager to avoid an argument Pippa pointed out a stand containing bits of oranges. “What is that?”
Heath glanced at it. “It is a feeding station for the butterflies.”
“How astute of you to glean that, Mrs. Doyle. Are you sure you have never been here before?” Lord Atworthy praised.
Heath squirmed in his seat. “No, I mean, yes…. I mean no, I have not been here before and thank you, my lord. I simply made the connection because my dear departed husband, God rest his soul, had similar stands on his estate to feed the birds in the winter when seeds were scarce.” He lifted his tea cup with a shaky hand and took a deep swallow.
Lord Atworthy sighed with a glint in his eye much like a lovesick old bull. “Ah, see, I knew you were an intelligent, sturdy, specimen of feminine persuasion.” He stood, hobbled around the table to her chair and took her hand in his. “Mrs. Doyle, I am an old man, and as such I have not many years left in this world. Would you do me the kindest service of becoming my wife, with Sir Allan’s permission of course, since it is in his care you have put your trust?”
Heath’s eyes bulged and tea spewed from his lips, splattering the table and the young viscount.
Pippa gasped. Lord Rylee turned a lovely shade of puce and dabbed at his shirt front with his napkin.
“Ah-but-oh…dear….” Heath stammered. His wild eyed gaze, filled with pleading and desperation, settled on Pippa.
“My Lord Atworthy, I am sure my cousin is very flattered by your sudden proposal,” Pippa explained. “However, you hardly know each other. Perhaps a longer courtship is more appropriate?”
The viscount interrupted, “I hardly think that necessary, Miss Nickle. Why, many marriages have been successful despite the participant’s being mutual strangers.”
Poor Heath darted a desperate glace around the table and then fixed on the exit. “Oh Lord. I fear my indigestion is back, if you will excuse me.” He bolted from his chair and scurried out the door.
“Oh dear, was it something I said?” Lord Atworthy asked, his face stiff with alarm.
Pippa patted his hand. “Oh no, I must go see to her. Poor Percephany is not feeling quite herself today, or any other day, it seems. If you will excuse me, I will go attend her. Lord Rylee would you mind if we took the coach back to the townhouse, perhaps Lord Atworthy could deposit you when you two are done tea?”
The viscount’s face stiffened, yet he inclined his head. “Yes, of course, Miss Nickle.”
Pippa hurried to catch up with Heath.
Chapter Sixteen
Heath flopped back onto the bed in his bedchamber the next morning. “Good Lord, I thought I would expire!”
“It was not that bad,” Pippa admonished.
He gave her an incredulous look. “Not that bad? The bloody man asked me to marry him, in a tea room no less!”
She giggled. “It was rather amusing.”
“Amusing?” Heath rolled his eyes. “More like shocking, obnoxious and unsettling, to name a few terms.”
“The poor man was left quite bewildered by your sudden departure, you know.” Pippa settled into the chair by the window. “What are you going to do if he seeks my uncle’s approval of his proposal?”
With a jolt Heath sat up. “I had not thought of that. Good Lord, what a pickle barrel I have landed in.”
A knock sounded on the door. “Mrs. Doyle, Miss Nickle,” Patrice called through the door. “Lady Allan requests you come down to the small parlor, if you please.”
“Please tell my aunt we will be down shortly,” Pippa answered.
Heath’s moan filled the room. “Bloody hell, the old badger has come for permission already.”
“Perhaps it is something else entirely.” Pippa stood and straightened her skirts. “I am sure it is nothing of great importance, come on.” With a reluctant Heath in tow, Pippa headed down stairs. Voices echoed as they approached the parlor, but Pippa paid them no mind, as she tried to console Heath. “I am sure if Lord Atworthy does request a courtship, or betrothal, there is some way we can persuade my uncle that it cannot be, without exposing your mission.”
She paused as the footman opened the door to the parlor and then froze in horror. There, seated next to Lady Allan was none other than her mother, and from the stern frown on her lips Pippa guessed it was not a social call. “Mama, what are you doing here?”
“Come in and bring your friend with you, Pippa. It seems we have much to discuss.”
Pippa swallowed, noting the quiet, deep tone of her mother’s command, which by experience she knew harbored no good. “Yes, Mama.” Like a chastised puppy she slunk into the room and took a seat on the settee.
Heath followed suit with an audible whoosh of relief.
“It has com
e to my attention, Philippa; you have entered into your aunt’s house under false pretenses.”
“I can explain, Mama.” Pippa cast a glance at Heath. Just how much should she reveal? At his guarded look she continued, “I met Mrs. Doyle on the coach and only sought to help her find another husband. I did not think the small fib of her being my cousin and chaperone would hurt anyone.”
Her mother shot a menacing glance at Heath and then pinned Pippa with an angry stare. “I am not talking about your little charade with Mrs. Doyle, Pippa. I am so deeply hurt and disappointed by your wanton actions that will make us all the laughing stock of our village.” Tears filled her eyes. “Rumor has it you are with child? Is it true?”
Unable to speak, Pippa nodded.
A soft cry slipped from her mother’s lips before she smothered it with a lace handkerchief. “How could you give yourself to a boy without the sanctity of marriage? I have prayed for your salvation and forgiveness all the way here. Your poor father is devastated.”
Pippa hung her head. She was a terrible person. Not only had she been irresponsible, but she had hurt her dear parents in the process. “I am sorry, Mama, I did not mean for it to happen.”
“Who is the man so lacking in honor to take your maidenhead, Daughter?”
“I cannot say, Mama.” She met her mother’s eye, cringing at the hurt and betrayal which lingered there.
Her mother’s lips thinned. “You cannot, or will not say?”
Pippa looked down at the carpet. “Does it matter?”
Lady Allan’s sigh lingered in the room. “What is to be done now?”
“I suppose I have no choice, but to escort my daughter back home and face the humiliation of our peers when she begins to show.” Mrs. Nickle turned a withering stare on Heath. “As for you, I have no idea who you are, but I do know you also owe my sister an apology for using her good nature to advance your own agenda.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Heath had the grace to look contrite. “I am most sorry to have betrayed your trust, Lady Allan, please accept my most humble apology. And Mrs. Nickle, please believe me when I say I only wanted to help Pippa, not make worse the situation.”
Mrs. Nickle tipped her head in acceptance. “Pippa, go above stairs and ready yourself to return home within the hour.”
“Yes, Mama.” Pippa stood and slunk to the door.
Lady Allan cast a spiteful look at Heath. “I trust you will be packed and gone from Viscount Rylee’s door within the hour as well, Mrs. Doyle?”
Heath’s shoulders slumped and he stood to follow Pippa. “As you wish, my lady.”
Pippa ran up the stairs, unmindful of how un-ladylike she appeared. When she reached her room she slammed the door and then threw herself on the bed to let the tears flow. Her mother and father would never forgive her for what she had done.
The door opened. “Pippa?”
“Go away! You have caused enough trouble,” she whimpered.
“I am sorry, Pippa. I honestly did not think posing as your chaperone would reveal your secret.”
“Does it matter?” Pippa sat up and glared at him through her tears. “My aunt most likely wrote my mother asking about you, and that is why she ended up here.”
“Perhaps, but how did she know about the child?”
She sniffed and swiped away her tears. “Who knows? It does not matter now, anyhow.”
Heath sat on the bed and looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “What will you do?”
“Go home as my mother orders and be whispered about the town as a jezebel.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Tell them who the father is and make him pay for his part in the incident.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Leave it be. What is done is done and I will not let this totally destroy my parents.” Climbing from the bed she wiped her tears on her sleeve. “Go away. I have packing to do.”
He took her hand. “I could still buy you a home above a shop all your own,” he offered.
“I doubt my mother and father would allow that.” She pulled her hand from his and walked to the wardrobe. “Please leave me to my packing, Heath.”
The bed creaked as he stood and then crossed to the door. “I am sorry, Miss Nickle. If there is ever anything you need, please do not hesitate to send word.” With that he exited the room and closed the door behind.
Pippa hiccupped as the tears flowed. Through a watery gaze she packed to return home with her mother.
Chapter Seventeen
Heath let himself into his town house on Bay Berry Hill, glad for once his staff was not in attendance. The last thing he wanted was them to see him dressed as Percephany Doyle. Luckily he always gave them Sunday mornings to attend church. Melancholy, he trudged up the stairs and down the hall to his room to change. His mission was a failure without Pippa, for she held the viscount’s attention and had the power to obtain the information he needed, besides, without her to help him into his ridiculous disguise, there was no point in continuing the ruse.
Using a small knife he cut his dress down the middle, slit the green silk corset in half and stepped out of the women’s attire. After tossing the garments in the fireplace, he lit the tinder beneath and then pulled on a clean pair of breeches. The water in the pitcher on the dressing table was icy cold, but he ignored his discomfort and scrubbed the powder and paint from his face. He tossed the wig on the hat stand, snatched up a shirt, and headed for his study.
After pouring a glass of port, he settled back in his chair to write a full report of his investigation for his superior. His mind wandered. He wished Pippa had taken him up on his offer to purchase her a little shop with living quarters above. Though she would still be shunned, dirty looks from strangers were better than those from people you knew. Who had told her parents about the babe? Had it been Mitchel? Knowing how little Pippa wanted to discuss it, Heath was sure it had to be the squire’s son. The question was, why had he risked his own discovery in the sordid tale just to get Pippa in trouble? What did he gain from it all?
He shook the thought from his head and put his quill to the sheet of foolscap. What did it matter? Pippa was out of the equation now. Her problems had nothing to do with the political espionage going on in London. She did not want his help and, therefore, he had no further obligation to her.
He was just finishing his missive when the butler entered the study. “My Lord, welcome home. How was your…ah…trip?”
“Not as informative as I had hoped, Jenkins.” Heath signed the document, folded it and then sealed it with a blob of wax and his crested ring pressed in it to leave his mark. “See this is delivered to Lord Waxland immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler took the note. “Will you be entertaining tonight?”
“No, but send my valet up and order me a bath. I should call on my betrothed this evening, as it has been almost two weeks since I last attended her.”
“As you wish, my lord.” With a polite bow the servant left to do as he was bid.
Heath finished his port and then headed above to bath and dress for the evening.
* * *
The crowded ballroom would have been daunting, except Heath was confident in his normal attire. There was something to be said about the simplicity and comfort of men’s fashions. He ran a hand through his own head of hair and checked to see his hessian boots carried just the right amount of shine to the toes. Confident in his appearance, he tweaked his blue velvet waistcoat, one of his favorites, and made his way through the crowd with a singular purpose. His gaze settled on that of his secret fiancée. The ball announcing their official betrothal was only a matter of a week away.
She looked up at his approach and let her gaze drift down his attire. She must have approved because she tipped her head. “Good evening, my lord. I am surprised to see you have come to attend something as frivolous as a ball.”
He pasted a smile to his lips, ignoring her snide cut. “Well, I suppose I cannot allow work to take over every waking
moment of my life when there are other more…worthy things to dote on now can I?”
Her smile of approval was fleeting. “Have you come to pay homage to me tonight then?”
“I suppose it is past due.” It occurred to him at that moment perhaps he had chased wealth with no thought to his future happiness. Their game of words was nothing but a show; there was no warmth, or care in either of their addresses. Out of duty he bowed and placed a chaste kiss on the back of her offered hand. “Have you saved a dance, or two for me?”
Lady Spencer made a great show of checking her dance card. “I am afraid there is only a provincial dance left, all the waltzes have already been spoken for.”
“I see.” He forced a smile to his lips, knowing many eyes watched their display with interest. “I shall just have to settle for that then.”
She wrote his name down, as a young lord arrived to claim his dance.
Heath followed her graceful movements as she joined the others on the dance floor and then was twirled around in another’s arms. Her laughter carried back to him. Oddly enough he did not care. Shouldn’t he be jealous the diamond of the first water, as she was called, seemed to enjoy the company of another more than he, her soon to be publicly announced fiancé?
Turning away, he headed for the refreshment table. Pippa’s smiling face and full lips swam to mind. Her laughter was music to his ears, free and plentiful, unlike Lady Spencer’s cool demeanor. The last week spent in her company had been amusing and wonderful, except for being dressed as a woman. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a grin he could not hide. Truth be told, Pippa even made his gender transformation amusing. Brushing the thought from his mind, he nodded to Viscount Rylee.
The younger man nodded back and reached for a glass of sherry at the same time as he. “Good eve, Lord Sedgwick. I have not seen you around, as of late.”
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