Corseting The Earl

by Killarney Sheffield

  “Yes Mama.”

  Her mother helped her papa to the door. “Oh, and Mrs. Potts will be by to pick up that special order of pistachio colored ribbon, do not forget.”

  “Yes Mama, I remember.” Pippa set the last tea packet in place, as her parents hobbled off down the street. Dusting off her hands she headed to the back room to find the ribbon order and check for more sugar and tobacco. She was elbow deep in a crate when the bell above the shop door tinkled. Spying the ribbon order at the very bottom she called out, “I shall be right there, Mrs. Potts,” and then leaned in to pluck out the order. Ribbon in hand she made her way back to the front of the shop. Her heart leapt into her throat, her feet coming to a halt of their own accord when she discovered Percephany leaning on the counter. “Mrs. Doyle, I mean Heath…I mean, my lord….”

  He smiled. “Heath will suffice, unless you are not alone?”

  “We are alone. I mean, I am…alone.” Pippa swallowed and wondered why she suddenly felt like a school girl on her first day. “I am sorry. I did not expect to see you here.”

  “Yes, I suppose not.” He took in the tidy shop. “I was invited to a weekend at the squire’s as a guest of Viscount Rylee’s.”

  Pippa set the ribbon on the counter between them. “I see. Still trying to track down Charlotte’s supporters then?”

  Heath nodded. “My superior was not swayed by the tale of a fallen…I mean, Mary’s claims. It seems he wants more proof.”

  “Oh.” She scuffed the toe of her slipper on the worn floorboards.

  “I was hoping you might consent to be my lady’s maid for the event. I will pay you, of course.”

  “I would have to ask Papa.” Pippa smiled. She would enjoy a chance to play maid again. Hiding out in the storeroom from the gossips was getting old, to say the least. “I do not think I should be seen around the squire’s though.”

  “I am staying at the inn in town. It seems there was not enough room at Went Hall, me being a last minute invite, you see.”

  “Oh.”

  The bell above the door jingled and Mrs. Potts entered the shop. “That blasted crow is back again, Miss Nickle, attacking those who enter the shops. Why he almost had my hat just now, and this is the one all the way from Paris!” She adjusted her quizzing glass to eye Heath as she crossed to the counter. “I have not seen you around here before.”

  “I am sorry, Mrs. Potts. I will get the Lambert boy to chase it away again with his sling shot. This is my, ah, friend, Mrs. Doyle, from London,” Pippa supplied.

  “See that you do.” Mrs. Potts gave Heath a once over. “London, eh? What is it that brings you to our quaint village?”

  Heath cleared his throat and pitched his voice, “I am a guest at the squire’s rout this weekend.”

  “I see. Too hot in the city already this season?”

  “Yes, it is much warmer than normal, it seems. I fear the season has been cut short, but perhaps it will cool for the small season yet,” Heath replied.

  The old woman snorted and turned to Pippa. “I do not know why everyone flocks to the congested city anyway, when there are plenty of lovely beaches and ices in the countryside, and it is less crowded too.”

  Pippa bit back a grin and handed Mrs. Potts her ribbon. “Your package just came in.”

  “Ah, lovely. Well, I best be heading back indoors before it gets much hotter.” Mrs. Potts paused and then turned to Heath. “Do come visit me at Brighton Hall if you have a chance, Mrs. Doyle. I should like to hear the latest ondits from the city. So few make the society page of the paper now, you know.”

  Heath cast a sly wink at Pippa as Mrs. Potts walked away. “I most certainly shall.”

  The bell jingled again and Pippa’s ma and pa entered. “Pippa, that blasted black bird is back again.”

  “Yes Mama, I will send for the boy to chase it away.”

  Pippa’s mother cast Percephany an icy look. “Why, Mrs. Doyle, fancy seeing you here,”

  “I am in town for an event at the squire’s. I just stopped by to see how darling Pippa was doing and to see if she would consent to be my lady’s maid for a few days. Seems my poor…Malinda is ill and could not travel with me.”

  “Pippa, a maid? I am not sure she would be suitable for such, and I would prefer her to be at home rather than so far out of town at the squire’s if I, or her father, should have need of her.”

  “Mama, Hea— Um…Mrs. Doyle is staying at the inn and you forget I served as her maid at Aunt Beth’s.” Pippa gave her mother a pleading look. “Please, Ma, I am so tired of being cooped up in the shop, and Mrs. Doyle is the only friend I have. It is just for two days.”

  Pippa’s father patted her mother’s hand. “I am sure it will be fine, dear. The poor child must be going noddy locked up here day and night.”

  Her mother sighed. “Very well, but I will not have you wandering town at all hours. ’Tis not safe.”

  “I shall see her escorted home safely each eve,” Heath promised.

  “All right, then, but, Pippa, have that bird done away with before you go.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Pippa came around the counter and linked arms with Heath. “Come along, Mrs. Doyle, I shall escort you to the inn and summon the bird boy on our way.” An avian screeched filled the air as they exited the shop, followed by a flurry of black flapping wings. Pippa ducked as the crow dived at them. Wings buffeted them, followed by Heath’s feminine cry. She looked up in time to see the nasty bird fly off with Percephany’s artificial fruit laden hat in its talons, still affixed to a fall of golden curls.

  People turned to stare. Thinking quickly, Pippa yanked off her apron and tossed it over Heath’s powdered hair. “Are you all right?”

  “I am fine,” Heath murmured. “The bloody thing took my wig. What am I to do? I have not got another.”

  “Oh dear.” Pippa wrapped the apron around Heath’s head to conceal his hair, as the bell above the shop door jingled.

  “Oh my, are you all right, Mrs. Doyle?” Pippa’s mother asked, her face a mask of horror.

  “Yes, I think so, but that blasted beastie got my wig, and I am as bald as a new babe’s bottom without it. Oh what shall I do? I have not got another, you see.” Heath clutched the apron.

  “Oh dear me, come back inside. There must be something we can do.” Mrs. Nickle put her arm around Heath’s shoulders. “Pippa, get a chair for Mrs. Doyle and a spot of tea.”

  “No, no, I am quite all right, I assure you,” Heath protested.

  “Nonsense, you are shaken up. A spot of tea will put you to rights while I see if we can acquire another suitable wig from London.”

  Though it concerned Pippa to leave Heath alone with her mother, she hurried to do as she was bid. By the time she returned with the chair and tea it, was already decided a new wig would take at least two days to arrive if a messenger was sent out on horseback immediately.

  Pippa’s father tapped his chin a moment. “Pippa is talented with a needle and thread, perhaps we could fashion a suitable wig, at least enough of one to look acceptable under a headdress.”

  “But where shall we find the hair, Papa?” Pippa looked around the shop. “We have nothing here remotely hair like.”

  “The undertakers?” Her pa suggested.

  Her mother shook her head. “There has only been old Mister Cooper and a young babe die in the last week.”

  Pippa snapped her fingers. “What about Joseph the blacksmith’s horse, Molly? She has the longest, thickest mane I have ever seen, and he is always complaining it’s full of snarls and whorls?”

  “A horse’s hair?” her father exclaimed. He grew serious a moment. “It is about the right shade of gold, I think.”

  “Here,” Pippa picked up a sun hat off a display. “Put this on to hide your head. I will take you back to the inn and then go see about Molly’s hair.”

  * * *

  Pippa held the horse hair wig closer to the candle to tie off the last stitch. “There. Do you think this will do?”


  Heath took the makeshift wig sewn onto a scrap of lace. “I suppose if we curl it and pin one of the elaborate headdresses on top that you brought from the shop it might pass, as long as no one looks too closely.”

  “I need wash it first.” Pippa wrinkled her nose. “It smells of horse sweat and manure.”

  A snort fled Heath’s lip. “Believe me, I have been in rooms with men who have smelled far worse.”

  Crossing to the washbasin Pippa carefully submerged the wig and rubbed the tresses in lavender scented soap. By the time she was satisfied, it smelled sweet and the strands glistened a golden blonde. With gentle pats of a towel she dried the strands. “There, now if we hurry we can get you dressed and curled before the dinner service starts.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A knock on the door roused Pippa from her slumber. Setting aside the forgotten book in her lap she stood and stretched. The clock on the mantle of the little suite Heath rented in the inn showed only just after ten. Heath cannot be back from the squire’s already.

  She crossed to the door and opened it with caution. A young boy dressed in the squire’s awful grey livery stood in the hall. “Yes?”

  “I’s told to give you this, miss.” He held out a sealed parchment.

  Pippa took the note and then the boy hurried away down the hall. She closed the door and returned to her seat on the settee. The wax was sealed by the squire’s familiar crest; she knew because she had seen it many times when he placed an order at the shop. After breaking the seal she unfolded the paper.

  Miss Nickle,

  A little birdie it seems has been tossing it about you are carrying my babe and I know you found Mary. I warned you to keep quiet and go away, Pippa. Now you will see what happens when you betray me.

  M.

  Icy tentacles of fear crawled their way up Pippa’s backbone. How had Mitchel known? Had Heath taken it upon himself to confront him? It had to have been Heath, for no one else but he, her ma and pa knew. Pippa crumbled the note and cast it into the empty fire grate. So much for Heath being her friend, despite telling him to leave it alone, he had taken it upon himself to stand for her. She should just go home now and leave him to get out of his own corset and dress. It would serve him right to be stuck in them all night. Instead she paced the floor. The coin he promised would come in handy to pay for the midwife and cloth for baby clothes.

  She was still pacing when Heath arrived back from the squire’s three hours later. He entered the room and flopped down on the edge of the bed with a groan. “Never try to eat all the food on your plate in a corset. Why the servants pile that much on I have no idea, for I doubt any lady could eat the amount, even without the corset.”

  “If you do not mind, my lord, ’tis late and I would like to get home,” Pippa snipped.

  Heath stood and turned around so she could undo his buttons. “I am sorry to be so thoughtless, Pippa.”

  “You should be.”

  He peered at her over his shoulder a moment with a puzzled look. “Are you feeling well?”

  “I am fine, though when one is with child she tends to need more sleep.” Pippa finished with the buttons and motioned for him to remove the olive green and crème gown. Once the dress was removed she untied the laces securing his plain crème corset. “The rest I am sure you can manage on your own, my lord. Good night.”

  “If you will wait but a moment, I will escort you home as promised.” Heath tossed the corset on the bed and snatched up a cloak to throw over his petticoats and chemise.

  Pippa raised her chin. “I can escort myself home, thank you.” Without another word she stalked from the room. Furious from simmering all evening, she stomped down the hall and then the stairs. As she crossed the lobby she detected his steps behind. Blasted man. Why can he not just leave me be? His ridiculous sense of honor is going to make a bird’s nest out of everything. By the time she cleared the steps to the walkway he had caught up with her.

  He snagged her arm and set stride with her. “Pippa is something wrong?”

  In stubborn determination she gritted her teeth. “No, nothing is wrong.”

  “You are angry with me, and I would like to know why.”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Yes, you are.” He swung her around to face him on the darkened street two shops from her home. “Tell me what has upset you so.”

  She looked away down the street to avoid his stare. “Fire!”

  “What?”

  Pippa wrenched her arm from his grasp. “My father’s shop is on fire!” Skirts clutched high she sprinted for home. Flames licked the front of the shop, already climbing to the second floor, and smoke billowed into the street. “Ma! Pa! Do you see them anywhere?” She reached the shop front, but when she would have entered the burning building, Heath stayed her with his hand.

  “Go get help, I will find your parents if they are still inside.”

  Panic filled she bolted back down the street yelling fire as loud as she could.

  Sashes flew up and doors were flung open as her cries roused the town. “Please, help! Our shop is on fire!” People came running from all directions with buckets and blankets. They set up a water relay and began trying to douse the flames.

  Pippa hovered by the open door, coughing and sputtering, keeping watch for any sign of Heath and her parents. Minutes ticked by and the flames grew bigger. She began to weep as three quarters of the building went up in a hungry inferno. Then out of the smoke came a hulking figure covered in flames. Heath stumbled from the building, his skirts on fire, dragging her father behind. After them came her mother choking and crying, soot smeared across her face. A couple of men ran forward and took hold of Pippa’s father; as they carried him off, two more pushed Heath to the ground, beating out the fire ravaging his skirts and cloak with blankets.

  Sobbing, Pippa ran to her mother and wrapped her arms around her shuddering shoulders. “Oh, Mama, I thought you were dead, but Heath saved you.”

  “Who?” Her mother coughed. “Mrs. Doyle saved us. Is she all right? I saw her emerge from the smoke, lit up like the devil’s finger!”

  “Stop, stop, I am put out already,” Heath howled, struggling to get to his feet.

  The two men scrambled off in astonishment.

  Pippa knelt by his side. “I cannot thank you enough for saving my parents.”

  He swiped a sooty hand across his forehead, leaving a thick black streak. “Ooh, what is that awful smell?”

  She stared in aghast at the smoldering remains of the horse hair wig. “I believe you have charred your head of luxurious horse hair, my lord.”

  Mrs. Nickle gasped. “Why you are not a she at all. You are a he!”

  Heath sighed. “So much for my disguise. I doubt I can convince a whole town to keep quiet about my charade.”

  Mr. Nickle hobbled forward. “Will someone please tell me what in bloody hell is going on?”

  “Papa, I can explain….” Pippa swallowed. “You see, Heath…I mean his lordship had need to disguise himself to track down a dastardly spy and—”

  Health held up a hand. “Perhaps we can discuss this somewhere where the breeze is not blowing up what is woefully left of my petticoats?”

  “Here.” Pippa handed him her cloak, sneaking a glance at his bare, muscled calves. “Shall we retire to the inn? It looks like the fire is burning down.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she took in what little was left of their home and shop. A few timbers stood upright, but most were now charred and soggy stumps.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “This is all your fault!” Pippa glowered at Heath, who now sported men’s breeches, a shirt and a waistcoat.

  Heath’s jaw dropped, making the smudge of soot across his forehead appear even more comical. “What? My fault? I saved your parents from burning to death!”

  She stood and crossed to the window in his private suite overlooking the street. Wisps of smoke still curled from the smoldering remains of her parent’s shop. “Yes. You just had to co
nfront Mitchel. I told you to leave it alone.”

  “What has the fire to do with the squire’s son?” Her father asked from his spot on an extra chair with his leg up on a wobbly three legged stool.

  Pippa turned away from the window. “Heath told Mitchel he knew the babe I carry belongs to him. And then tonight an errand boy delivered a letter to me saying I would be sorry for telling.”

  “I swear I have said nothing about who the father of your babe is to anyone, Pippa.” Heath turned to Pippa’s mother. “I kept it in the utmost confidence, Mrs. Nickle. I would do nothing to hurt your daughter.”

  “Except masquerade as a woman and quite ruin her reputation?” Mr. Nickle scowled.

  “Henry, it is not as if Pippa had a reputation left to worry about,” Mrs. Nickle admonished with a sigh.

  “Still,” Mr. Nickle held his ground. “It was most indecent to pretend to be a woman and force our little girl play lady’s maid.”

  “Papa, Heath did not force me to do anything.” Pippa rolled her eyes. “And I am not a little girl anymore.”

  Mrs. Nickle placed her hand on her husband’s. “She is right, dear. Pippa is a grown woman and able to make her own choices, whether right or wrong.”

  Heath ran a hand through his sooty hair. “You think Mitchel burned down your parents shop?” When Pippa nodded he shook his head. “Impossible. The squire and his son were both at the dinner and meeting all night. They were never out of my sight.”

  “Then he paid someone to set the shop afire for him,” Pippa insisted.

  “We cannot prove that,” Pippa’s father pointed out without disagreeing with her theory.

  A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away. “This is all my fault. I am so sorry Mama, Papa. None of this would have happened if I had never fallen for Mitchel’s honeyed words and promises.”