by Jade Lee
“I will not fail you,” he said firmly. Then he gently pushed her into the cab and shut the door. She would have argued, but she could see in his face that his mind was made up.
“Crazy toff!” she accused through the window.
He executed a courtly bow just as the hansom drove off.
“He just left you?” Francine gasped as she sat with Penny the next afternoon. “He just put you in a carriage and—”
“And I came back here. To make shoes for your wedding.”
“Well!” harumphed her friend.
Penny echoed it and added a sigh for good measure.
“Did he at least kiss you?”
Penny nodded. “And tonight is the ball.”
“Oh, right! The real society ball where you will have the best time!”
Penny closed off the stitching and leaned back to study her handiwork. It was a new pair of slippers for Francine’s future mother-in-law. And it was a right pretty pair, even if she did say so herself. She was especially proud of the ribbon she’d added near the very toe. That had come as an inspiration early this morning, and it looked especially delightful. “Done,” she pronounced, handing the slippers over to her friend. “Can you give them to Anthony to give to his mother?”
“Can you stop worrying about shoes and go get dressed? A real society—”
“Stop saying that!” Penny snapped, turning to the next upper that needed stitches to its sole. Just picking up the leather kept her hands from shaking. She felt secure when she was cobbling. Peaceful and happy. Who at this ball could possibly understand that? She’d be like a fish out of water there. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she said, trying to convince herself. “It’s a party. I’ve been to plenty of parties.”
“Not with nobs, you haven’t,” said Francine as she neatly grabbed the shoe parts. “Come on, Penny. Why aren’t you beside yourself with excitement?”
Penny arched her friend a look. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said morosely. “I’m a tradeswoman. I make shoes. I can’t be—”
“You’re smart, you’re capable, and you’ve got a real live gent taking you to a party. Don’t you be thinking you’re less than anybody there. You go and have a good time.”
Penny nodded, but inside, her entire body was depressed. Her heart ached and she nearly broke down in tears. She tried to cover it, but she couldn’t. Francine noticed, and before Penny could say a word, she was wrapped in her friend’s strong arms.
“What’s wrong? Come on. Out with it!”
It took a while before Penny could force the words out. The realization had come on her last night as she climbed into her very cold and very empty bed.
“Something awful has happened,” she whispered. Then before she could change her mind, she looked up at her friend and pushed the words out. “I’ve fallen in love with him!” she cried. Then she burst into tears.
Francine didn’t say anything. Or if she did, Penny didn’t hear it. She just hugged her friend and waited until the storm of tears passed. It did quickly enough. Unlike her anger, Penny’s tears never lasted for long. Then when she had dried her face and blown her nose, Francine fixed her with a hard stare.
“You know, love isn’t something to cry over. Love is a wonderful thing.”
“Not when you’re in love with a nob who won’t even kiss you when you want.”
Francine frowned. “I thought he took you to that dungeon place.”
“He did,” Penny said with a heavy sigh. “But yesterday he was all noble. Talking about being worthy of me.”
Francine rolled her eyes. “The gents have weird ways of thinking. You’re either a street tart to them or the Holy Mother. Seems to me, he’s switched you from a girl he can bed to a girl to wed.”
Penny stared down at her hands. Specifically her left hand, which would likely never sport a wedding ring. “He won’t do either now,” she said. “He’s just a baron’s son, but that’s too high for me and we both know it.”
“Are you sure? He’s only a second son.”
Penny shrugged, her mind twisting itself into knots trying to force herself to hope. But the more she convinced herself it was possible, the more her reason laughed at her. She was clutching at straws. Not only was she a tradesman’s daughter, but worse, she actually did the trade. Her hands were rough and covered in scars. She worked long hours, and not at creating a nice home for a man. She had a babe in Tommy to take care of, and no man wanted to raise another man’s son. The reasons piled up in her mind until all hope was extinguished and she was grabbing things to throw at the wall.
She didn’t let them fly, though. She had control of her temper now, thanks to Samuel. Or at least better control now that Samuel had helped her gain some distance from her father’s slights. But the unfairness of the world still ate at her. How dare anyone count her less just because she wanted to do a trade?
“Here now,” said Francine as she gently pried the awl out of Penny’s hand. “You’re jumping to things that might or might not be true.”
“No, I’m not. They’re all—”
“Stop it! I won’t hear another word about it—love or no love, will or won’t marry. It doesn’t matter. You’ve got a party tonight. A ball no less. And you’re being taken to it by a man you love. That’s cause to be happy, and to dress like a queen!”
Penny groaned at that. She didn’t want to be Queen Guinevere. She wanted to be a woman. She opened her mouth to explain, but Francine just shook her head.
“Why do you look to the bad, Penny? You got cause, but really, something wonderful has happened. You’re going to a ball! And with the man you love. Can’t you celebrate that? Can’t you be happy for one night?”
It took a bit for the words to sink in. Longer than it should have taken. After all, she had been happy once. She had gone to parties and enjoyed them. She had been a carefree girl once upon a time. Was it possible for her to remember how to do that again? To remember that she had food and shelter, plus people who loved her? No matter what happened, she and Tommy would survive.
So why not dance for one night? Why not enjoy Samuel’s company for one blissful party? And why not take what pleasure she could with the man she loved? So what if he would never marry her. So what if the thoughts she had were considered sinful. Tonight was for fun. Tonight would be for her and Samuel’s pleasure. No matter what happened tomorrow, she would enjoy herself tonight in whatever ways she could.
“You’re right,” she said firmly.
“Of course I am!” Francine returned. “So come, let’s look at what you’re going to wear.”
Penny shook her head. “No, first I need to find some French letters.”
“Oh, that’s easy!” exclaimed Francine. “Anthony bought a whole tin of them!”
“Good! You must get me one.”
Francine wiggled her eyebrows. “Just one?”
Penny paused. She’d never thought beyond the first time. “I thought it would hurt.”
Francine shrugged. “Not if you do it right. Come on. Let’s look at your dress and I’ll tell you all about what I’ve learned from Anthony.”
Penny agreed as she quickly put away her tools. If tonight was going to be an evening to remember forever, then she wanted to be armed with as much knowledge as possible. And that meant she had to prepare.
By the time Samuel arrived tonight, she intended to be a seductress the likes of which he’d never, ever imagined.
Chapter 19
Samuel arrived promptly at seven o’clock at the dress shop. It was early for the ball, but he hoped to get a little time to sit with Penny and Tommy in private. It scared him to realize just how much he enjoyed that quiet evening he’d shared with them. He wanted more such nights—a lifetime more—and he was willing to make radical changes in his life to accomplish it. But first and foremost, he had to wait until quarter day. His investments would begin their return then and he could come to Penny with enough money to support all of them—Penny, Tommy, himself, and an
y new children—if not in high style, at least in comfort.
It would all begin on quarter day, which was only two weeks away. Still, he did not wish to appear like a pauper to his lady love, so he had borrowed some blunt from his brother to buy a couple gifts, and he’d managed to borrow a carriage. He intended to show Penny a proper evening in the style that would be their future. A carriage and a small gift, all in anticipation of their life to come.
So he appeared at the shop door in his best attire. He knocked, though he didn’t need to. Mrs. Appleton was already pulling open the door and showing him in. And if her smile of welcome wasn’t exactly warm, she hadn’t slammed the door in his face either.
“Good evening,” he said as he dropped into his most formal bow. Then he presented her with a bouquet of flowers. “I thought these might brighten up the shop.”
Mrs. Appleton’s face softened as she took the bouquet. They were hothouse flowers and came very dear. But it was worth it to see that softening in the woman’s face. If he could get any one of Penny’s friends on his side, he would count it a great victory.
“Oh!” she said as she buried her nose in the blooms. “They’re lovely. But aren’t they for Penny?”
“No. They are for you. I have something different for Miss Shoemaker.” That piqued the woman’s interest, but she said nothing. Then he gestured upstairs. “Might I go up? I brought a treat for Tommy.”
“That boy is going to get fat with all the treats you keep bringing,” she huffed. But she waved him upstairs. He took them two at time, anxious to see Penny, but stopped short when he topped the rise.
Sitting about the room in various places was every woman associated with the shop. Everyone, that is, except for Penny. He nodded to each in turn, mentally labeling them: seamstress, apprentice, purchaser, Mrs. Appleton coming up behind him, and Tommy. At least Tommy appeared delighted to see him. The boy crawled right over, no doubt looking for his treat.
Samuel passed it over even as he was making his bow to the room.
“Hullo, everyone. It is a pleasure to see you all this evening,” he lied. Then he turned and lost all manner of speech.
Penny walked out of her bedroom with her friend Francine behind her. But he barely registered the other woman’s presence. What he saw instead was a vision of shimmering gold. It was a simple gown of white with dark gold netting over top. There was very little decoration, and yet Penny needed nothing to show her as the diamond she was. The gown displayed her trim figure, the color set off her skin as not quite pale, but certainly not dark, and her hair had been brushed to the color of an old guinea—dusky gold with touches of red brought out by the fire. And if that were not stunning enough, her face was porcelain perfection. He detected a slight dusting of cosmetics. Powder for her face, kohl for her eyes, and she must have been biting her lip because her mouth was full and red, tempting him to forget the ball altogether.
Yet it was her eyes that held him transfixed. Pale blue, slightly pinched in anxiety, but without the hint of any anger at all. Penny stood before him open and vulnerable. She had no shield of fury to protect her nor even a purposeful task to occupy her thoughts. She was simply herself, a woman standing before him in beautiful glory.
“I cannot breathe,” he whispered when that was not at all what he meant to say.
Penny’s fingers tightened to white where she clutched them together. “Will I do?” she asked.
“No. There is something else you need.”
He saw her face blanche and heard the gasps of outrage around him. But he ignored them. He drew out his small gift from his pocket, a jeweler’s box offered to her on his open palm. “Will you wear this?” he asked. “I think it will match your eyes, but I could not be sure.”
She took it from him, and he was not sure if it was her hands that trembled or his own. Either way, the box was opened, his token revealed.
“Blimey,” she whispered and he felt his face heat with pleasure. She liked it.
He stepped forward, drawing the necklace out from the box. It was a simple gift, especially compared to what some of the ladies would be wearing tonight. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to buy a chain for it, so the pendant hung from a black ribbon.
“Do you see?” he asked as he tried to get the aquamarine stone to catch the light. It was in truth a small stone, but the gold around it was what made it unique.
“It’s a shoe,” he said. “I know you are embarrassed about being in trade and likely nervous about the people you are to meet. But you must understand that they will know what you do. They will all know you are a tradeswoman and there will be sneering behind some fans and crass comments by some of the men. But if you wear this, it shows them that you are proud of who you are and what you do. And I am,” he said. “I’m very proud of it.” He held it up to her eyes and cursed softly. “Not quite right. But do you think it is close enough? I do not know that any gem would match the beautiful color of your eyes.”
He was mentally comparing her eyes to the gems he’d seen in the shops, frowning as he discarded one after another. Then he felt her hands gently cup his.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I cannot believe…” She stopped, biting her lip as her eyes shimmered with tears. “But how could you pay for it?”
He smiled, the twist in his gut belying his easy words. “I am not impoverished, Penny. And you deserve beautiful things.” Urging her to turn around, he tied the ribbon to her neck. He didn’t have a mirror so he had to rely on the cues from her friend Francine as to exactly where the stone should rest. In the end, he managed just fine. The jeweled shoe settled in the center of her creamy skin, just above the shadow of her cleavage. And looking at it there, he desperately wanted to see her wearing just it and nothing else. The gem he bought for her while her body lay upon his bed as a gift for him.
The idea so overwhelmed him that he couldn’t speak. Which was just as well because all the ladies were crowded around looking and commenting for him.
“He’s right, you know. Wear it with pride.”
“Goodness, that’s beautiful. The color is perfect.”
“I know of a way to get a chain for that, and not so expensive. But for tonight, you look stunning.”
Other phrases filled the air. Generally, the gift was approved, but in all that, Penny never said another word. That bothered him. He should have given her the thing in the carriage, but he hadn’t been able to wait, and now he damned himself for his impatience. So he pushed all the women aside, forcing his way close enough to take Penny’s hands.
“What is the matter?” he asked softly. If anything, her face had gone paler.
“Will I do?” she whispered. “Among your friends? Will I shame you?”
Lord, he wanted to kiss her so thoroughly that she forgot all her fears. But he couldn’t do that. Especially since he could see the number of pins in her hair. She had likely spent an hour getting it to fall just right. So he had to content himself with lifting up her gloved hands and kissing them.
“I am an odd duck, my dear. You have said that many a time. It is more likely that you will find my friends equally odd and run screaming back here where it is sane.”
“I would never do that,” she said, her voice growing stronger with each word. “I have resolved to enjoy myself tonight.”
“I have done the same!” he lied. In truth, tonight was more about showing her the life she might have with him. Once his fortune was established. “Come now. The carriage is waiting.”
“Carriage!” she gasped.
“We could not walk all the way to Grosvenor Square.”
“Of course we could!”
“We will have a carriage, and you will take my arm. And when the butler pronounces your name, you will hold your head up high and I shall know that every man in the place is envious of me.”
“Do you really think so?”
He smiled. “Am I not the most brilliant man you have ever met? You have said so dozens of times, you know.�
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“Of course you are, but—”
“Then trust in me, my dear. You will be the toast of the ball.” So he took her arm and led her out to the waiting carriage.
Penny settled into the carriage, doing her best to quiet the quivering in her belly and the weakness in her limbs. Unfortunately, the carriage did not help. It was expensive. That was the only word for it. There was a crest on the side that she did not recognize, the squabs were almost new and in the finest velvet, and the horses seemed much too large to her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but everything about this fine carriage made her feel small and insignificant.
A liveried footman shut the door, and within moments, the carriage had begun to move. It was ponderously slow. Likely they would have arrived at the ball faster if they’d walked. But that wasn’t the point. They were attending a ball—she was attending a ball—and people who did that arrived in carriages.
Samuel must have seen her stroking the velvet. “Do you like the carriage?”
“How did you get it?”
“It’s the carriage of the Marchioness of Guillamore. She’s our hostess tonight. She offered me the use of her carriage yesterday when I went to request your invitation.” He passed her a sealed envelope that she knew was her invitation. She took it and felt its weight, knowing that never in her life had she held something so fine.
“A marchioness?” she whispered.
“A particular friend of mine. She styles herself as quite the egalitarian. She is also a patroness of the arts, extremely learned in alchemy, of all things, and has a fondness for the ridiculous. Which is why I am a favorite of hers, I suppose.”
“You are not ridiculous,” Penny said automatically. No, the one who would likely appear out of place was she.
“On the contrary,” he returned as he took her very cold hand in his. “I make a point of being ridiculous. The more entertaining I am, the more parties I attend.”
“But—”
“Hush, Penny. Stop worrying. It will be a marvelous night, I promise.”