The coach lurched ahead as he sat. Leaning back against the threadbare cushions he let his lips twist into a wry grin. Lord Waxland was in for a shock when they met. Though he supposed the sight of him now, attired in brown breeches, a tan wood cutter’s shirt and one sloppy boot that had seen better days, would be less disturbing than arriving dressed as Percephany.
By the time he reached Lord Waxland’s the bells thankfully had stopped tolling. He rubbed his throbbing temples and disembarked from the conveyance. As it rolled off he hobbled up the steps and knocked on Lord Waxland’s door. A sour faced butler opened it.
“Tell Lord Waxland Lord Sedgewick has the need to see him immediately.” Heath ignored the man’s shocked look.
“Lord Waxland is not at home, my lord.”
Heath glanced at the coach as it turned the corner. “Bloody hell, where is he?”
The butler scowled at him. “He is at the club, my lord.”
With a groan Heath turned away and made his way back down the steps. White’s was a mere two blocks away, yet in his condition it might as well have been twenty. It seemed like an eternity; sweat was beading on his brow and his legs were weak by the time he found himself at the door to the club.
Herald, the door man, widened his eyes when he recognized Heath. “My lord! Are you all right?”
“I have been better for sure, my good man,” Heath answered gasping for breath. “Is Waxland here, by any chance?”
“You just missed him, my lord.”
“Damn it!”
The doorman took a step back. “Perhaps I can summon you a coach, my lord?”
Heath nodded. “Do you have any idea where Lord Waxland went?”
“I believe he gave his driver the address of number twelve Bay Berry Hill, my lord.” Herald flagged down a passing hackney. “Here you go, your lordship. Shall I give the driver an address for you?”
With a grimace Heath clutched the handle and dragged himself into the conveyance. “Yes, to my home, number twelve Bay Berry Hill.” Exhausted, he slumped into the seat and the hackney rattled into motion. When it arrived at his home he climbed the steps.
Jenkins opened the door and squinted at him. “My lord! You look as if you were in a cat fight.”
“I feel as if, Jenkins. Be a good man and pay the driver, I have no coin on my person at the moment.”
“Of course, my lord. Oh, there is a Lord Waxland waiting in your study. I did not know when…or if you were returning, but he insisted on waiting.” Jenkins let Heath in.
“Very good.” Heath entered the house as Jenkins hurried to pay the driver. After dropping the one remaining boot in the corner by the hat rack, Heath padded barefoot across the foyer and then down the hall to his study. He found Lord Waxland reclining in one of the high backed chairs sipping a glass of brandy.
The man cast a critical eye down his attire. “Well, you look like something the cat dragged in, Sedgewick, rough night in the gaming hells?”
Heath crossed to fill a second glass for himself. “I wish. I would have at least made it home with the clothes on my back.”
“Touché.” Waxland took another sip of his brandy.
“The King is dead.” Heath crossed and sank into the other chair. “I escaped torture at the hands of Lord Atworthy, Lord Rylee and a little upstart of a squire, it seems, with not a moment to spare.”
“Indeed.” Lord Waxland stood and set his glass down with casual indifference. As he straightened he drew a pistol from his pocket. “I did not count on you escaping, Sedgewick.”
Heath spewed his mouthful of brandy across the room. “What the hell?”
“You were supposed to disappear.” Waxland leveled the pistol at Heath and took a step back. “Bloody inconvenient of you to have escaped now.”
“Waxland, you have been a staunch Whig for years, are you telling me you have turned your lot in with the rebels and are in favor of seeing a puppet queen on the throne?” Heath set aside his glass.
Waxland sneered. “I simply wanted you out of the way. You see, it should be I, not you next in line to lead the Whig party once old Henry retires. If I let you prance in there and blow the rebel liberal group out of the water, I would not stand a chance. You would be the hero and I would still just be good old Waxland, with little merit to hold the position over the likes of you.”
“I never wanted to be leader, Waxland.”
The older man snorted. “As if you would have a choice. To turn down the position would be political suicide. I suppose I shall just have to do away with you myself and claim the praise for catching Atwood and Rylee myself. Come on, we are going for a little ride.”
Heath heaved himself from the chair and hobbled to the study door when Waxland motioned with the pistol. Upon opening it he found the hall beyond empty. They made their way down the hall and to the foyer. All the while Heath tried to come up with a plan. In his condition he was no match for the older man, especially with the disadvantage of a pistol added to the mix. As they crossed the foyer Heath caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Stalling, he turned his back to the door and picked up the boot. “I cannot get this on without assistance, Waxland.” He glanced at the figure slipping down the hall leading to the kitchen. “Surely you do not intend to shoot a man in his bare feet without the dignity of his boots?”
“You will not trick me into helping you so you can escape, Sedgewick. Boots or no boots, we are going for a ride.”
Heath held out the boot to keep Waxland’s attention. “They were once a very nice pair, do you not think?”
Waxland blinked as if he could not fathom their present discussion in the face of the circumstances. “Well, I would not go so far as to say—” His face crumpled and he dropped to the floor with a grunt.
Dropping the boot Heath heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Pippa’s father with his cane raised. “Thank you, sir. Summon Jenkins at once to tie the fiend up before he awakes.”
“He is in the kitchen, my lord.” Mr. Nickle hobbled off.
Someone pounded on the door and Heath opened it. Pippa stared at him slack-jawed on the steps a moment before her gaze traveled to the unconscious lord on the floor. “Heath? What is going on? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in bed.”
Jenkins hurried into the foyer with Pippa’s father close behind. “Dear lord, what is going on here?”
“It is a long story. Summon a footman to fetch the constables after you tie the man up.” Heath started back in the direction of the study. “I need a good stiff drink.”
Chapter Thirty-two
“Are you telling me you willfully endangered my daughter, Lord Sedgewick?” Mr. Nickle frowned.
“Well, not exactly, I mean….” Heath sighed, his headache coming back. “Yes, not willfully, that is, I did not think it would come to such dire circumstances.”
Mrs. Nickle scowled at him. “It is bad enough your…ah…perversion of dressing as a woman, but to throw my daughter into the jowls of a murderous man—”
“I do not like dressing as a woman, ma’am. It was only a disguise,” Heath protested.
“So you say.” Mr. Nickle shook his head. “I demand restitution to my daughter’s reputation.”
Heath sat up so suddenly he forgot about his sore ribs and groaned. “Are you serious? The girl has no reputation, she got herself with child.”
“Since no babe will be forthcoming, that will remain all just unfounded rumor. However, everyone in London and Bracenville saw you two together and now know it was all a sham.”
“Not everyone,” Heath groused, leaning back in his chair again. “What would you have me do about it? I have already agreed to gift Pippa with a shop and home.”
Mr. Nickle crossed his arms. “I suppose you will just have to marry her.”
“What?” Heath, Pippa and Mrs. Nickle exclaimed at the same time.
Pippa got to her feet. “Do I not have a say in matters? Why is it every time something inappropriate happens betwe
en a man and a woman they must marry?”
Her father’s lips thinned. “That is the way society works.”
Pippa crossed her arms. “Well, society rules are ridiculous. I will not wed a man who is not of my choosing and you cannot make me.”
“You will do as you are told, Pippa,” her mother soothed. “It could be worse, you know. You could be unwed and still expecting.”
Jenkins poked his head around the study door. “The constables are here, your lordship.”
Heath took his chance to flee and hurried out.
“Papa, please do not make me wed Lord Sedgewick. He does not love me. Besides, he has already promised me a shop and cottage. What more do I need? I have no need to marry when I can look after myself.”
Pippa’s mother drew her back into her chair. “Do not be noddy dear, of course you want to get married and have children.”
“I will not discuss this with you anymore, Pippa, go to your room.” Her father lifted his glass of brandy.
“I am a grown woman, Papa. You cannot order me to my room like a naughty child. Besides, this is the earl’s house and I have no room.” Pippa lifted her chin and stared her father down.
“Of all the gall! Pippa Nickle, go to your room, or your mother’s room. I will not tolerate your disobedience. I am seriously having second thoughts about a match between you and the earl. Why, you have become disrespectful and loose of tongue since being in his company.” Her father’s face began to turn an alarming shade of red.
Pippa stood and slunk to the door. “Good.” She exited, slamming the door behind her.
Jenkins hurried in her direction when she stomped into the foyer where Heath was speaking with two uniformed constables. “Is there something I can get for you, miss?”
“My father sent me to my room, only I have not one here,” Pippa grumbled.
“Ah, I see.” He snapped his fingers at a passing maid. “Bertha, please see Miss Nickle to the lavender suite.”
The maid nodded and motioned for Pippa to follow.
After Pippa was shown to a room decorated in varying shades of purple she sat on the bed and drew her knees to her chest. Carriages and coaches whizzed by on the street below her window. “I have made a mess of it all, I am afraid,” she complained to the empty room. The earl did not want her. He wanted to marry for love, or perhaps he had only said that to dislodge any ideas of marriage on her part. She sighed and dropped her chin to rest on her knees. All she wanted from acting as maid for Heath was a little shop and cottage of her own. Her chest tightened and she brushed the lie aside. That was not exactly true. She wanted Heath. Each day with him was an adventure. He made her laugh, smile, and know everything was right with the world when she was with him. She couldn’t imagine her day without him now, it seemed. However, if they were forced to marry, she would be sacrificing his happiness for hers. It didn’t seem fair. In despair she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long for slumber to quiet her mind.
* * *
A maid entered with a couple of boxes. “These were just delivered for you, miss.”
Pippa frowned. “Who are they from?”
“His lordship, I’d guess,” the maid mumbled and then set the boxes on the bed. “Have you need of anything?”
“No thank you.” Pippa reached for the top box as the servant left. When she lifted the lid she found frothy fabrics of pale blue silk nestled among tissue paper. She set the box aside and opened the second one. It contained an evening dress of baby blue silk, fringed with lace, edged by tiny white pearls. Pippa stood and shook out the gown. Small puffed sleeves, meant to be worn off the shoulder, swelled into a low scooped neckline edged with lace and more pearls. The skirt was slender in the front, but full and gathered in the back to form a small train. The dress was cut in the same style as the one her father presented her on her birthday but much more elaborate and costly.
A young maid entered. “I have been sent by his lordship to help you dress for dinner at White’s.”
“White’s? The club?” Pippa handed her the dress. “But, I am not a member.”
The girl smiled and hung the gown over the dressing screen in the corner. “You and your parents are to be his guests this eve there.”
“Oh.” Pippa submitted to the maid’s help. “Heath will need help….” she trailed off remembering where she was.
The maid frowned. “His lordship has a valet, Miss.”
“Yes…I suppose.”
When she was ready, she headed downstairs to the parlor to meet her parents and Heath. She found them already there, her mother dressed in a beautiful red gown in the same style as hers but with black lace and her father in full black dress attire, complete with red cravat to match.
“Mama, you look beautiful.” Pippa gave her a quick hug and then turned to her father. “Papa, you are so handsome and distinguished looking.”
His cheeks tinged a bright red, but he kissed her hand. “And you look like a fairy princess.”
“Indeed she does.”
Pippa turned to spy Heath in the doorway and her breath fled her lips. He was dressed in a black suit with a royal blue waistcoat and a frothy white cravat at his throat, pinned with a sapphire stick pin. The natural bronze of his skin shone, uncovered by white powder, making his golden hair brighter. His blue eyes twinkled at her stare and she looked away. “I did not mean to stare, Hea— Um, my lord. I have seldom seen you attired as such.”
He chuckled. “As a man, you mean?”
“Yes.”
He crossed and offered her his arm. “Shall we get going?”
At a loss for words and suddenly awkward in his presence, Pippa nodded, allowing him to escort her from the house to the waiting coach and four. The ride to White’s was short and quiet, with her mother making polite chitchat about the sites outside the windows. Pippa tried her best to respond, but found the earl’s thigh pressing against hers in the close confines unnerving.
When they arrived at their destination they were admitted to the club without a second glance by the doorman.
Pippa had never been inside a club before. A large foyer spread before them with servants rushing to collect outer wear and greet the arrivals. From there they were shown into a massive dining room complete with monstrous crystal chandeliers suspended from the doomed ceiling. They were seated at a table near a platform.
She glanced around the room as a servant filled their wineglasses. It was crowded with well- to-do diners, many of whom spared them curious glances. They probably wondered who the strangers were with the earl, she mused. Could they tell she and her parents were not of the nobility?
After a few minutes an older gentleman stepped up onto the platform and tapped the glass in his hand with a spoon to gain silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all here tonight, in the wake of our King’s death. Though tonight all of England mourns her king, we are here to celebrate. Many of you may not know our own Lord Sedgewick foiled a rebel plan to support Charlotte and put her on the throne as a token ruler for their own agenda. Lord Sedgewick undertook this covert mission and, with the help of his special guests, apprehended Lords Atworthy, Rylee, Waxland and others, at great risk to his own person, I might add. Tonight we honor him and bestow upon him the position of Whig party leader.” The man smiled and winked. “Whether he wants it, or not.” He paused as the crowd tittered. “Lord Sedgewick, would you please join me?”
Heath stood and climbed onto the platform, his injured arm tucked to his side.
The gentleman handed him a silver staff topped with a crystal ball. “Do you swear to solemnly uphold the values and ideals of the Whig party, no matter what the circumstance, till death do you part?”
“I do,” Heath answered.
The gentleman shook his hand. “May I present our Honorable Whig Party leader, Lord Sedgewick, Earl of Sedgewick and Killiam Shire.”
Everyone applauded as Heath took his seat.
During the meal many well-wishers stopped
by their table to talk to the earl. She forced a charming smile to her face as she was introduced as Miss Philippa Nickle, and Heath’s bride to be. Though many directed curious glances at her no one was openly rude or nosy, and soon Pippa relaxed and began to enjoy the dinner.
Chapter Thirty-three
Pippa rose early the next morning despite such a late night the evening before. After breakfast in bed, she found her way to the library. She crossed to look out over the street below as rain trickled down the window panes. Her sigh lingered as she took in the puddles and deserted street. Melancholy settled over her. Perhaps it was a combination of the late night and the rich food the evening before.
The door opened behind and she turned to find Heath enter. He paused a moment and then favored her with a warm smile. “Good morning, Pippa, I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you.” She turned back to the window. “I never thanked you for the dress.”
Footsteps crossed the room and stopped beside her. “Did you like it?”
“Very much so. It is lovely.”
“I am glad. I had it commissioned for you.”
She glanced at him as he stood staring out at the rain with his one arm behind his back and his sore one at his side. “You did? How did you know my size?”
His lips twitched up into a lopsided grin. “I have become very adept, it seems, at sizing women’s fashion these days.”
Pippa couldn’t help a small smile. “Then I should also thank you for the soft boned corset as well. It was much more comfortable than a whalebone one.”
“Yes, I did try a little kindness out of sympathy for your gender. It was the least I could do after wearing one of those awful things the last couple of weeks.” A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest.
Corseting The Earl Page 17