Wedded in Sin

by Jade Lee

  She had to take him at his word because she was already dressed and on her way. Short of jumping out of the carriage and running back home, there was nothing to do but see the night through. She had thought she would be excited by tonight. After her talk with Francine—and the placement of not one but three French letters in her reticule—she was beyond giddy with excitement. But as the moment drew close, she was hard put not to lose what little luncheon she’d eaten.

  So she said nothing, but she gripped his hand as if he were her only lifeline in a very uncertain sea. And in this manner they passed a despicably slow procession to Grosvenor Square.

  Eventually they arrived and the footman opened the door. Penny was forced to release Samuel’s hand as she stepped out of the carriage. The night air was cool, but not unpleasant, especially as it hit her overheated skin. Then she chanced to look about her.

  It felt as if every candle in London were lit about the stately home. A line of people waited on the walkway, and Penny had to stop herself from gaping. She recognized none of the women. Only the men who had frequented her father’s shop. And of the men she knew, they were titled lords, every one of them, lined up with a beautiful woman on his arm.

  “Samuel,” she said, though it was more of a whisper. She had no strength in her voice or her limbs.

  “You outshine them all,” he said bracingly, and she shot him an irritated glare.

  “It isn’t about beauty!” she snapped.

  “It is about being interesting,” he returned. “And you will be the most interesting person here tonight. I swear it.”

  “Then you lie,” she whispered, reaching for her anger as a way of putting strength in her knees. Fortunately he understood. He chuckled as he patted her hand.

  “Tonight, you are a guest of the Marchioness of Guillamore. Hold your head up, Penny, and show everyone here that I am the luckiest man alive.”

  “You are a fool!” she returned, but she lifted her chin. Much too soon, they were inside and a few minutes later they arrived at the top of a ballroom stair.

  “Mr. Morrison and his guest, Miss Shoemaker,” the majordomo intoned in booming accents.

  Penny tensed, waiting for the turn of faces and the look of scorn that would appear on lord and lady alike. But no one sneered. In truth, no one looked at all. They were busy chatting among themselves, preening in the way of fops as they waited to be noticed by their peers. It was rather startling, and the revelation froze Penny in place.

  But Samuel did not allow her to remain for long. Within a moment, he guided her to the receiving line, where he introduced her to the marchioness and her doddering husband, who sat in a chair beside her. The marchioness was first. She was a stately woman with bright eyes and hair dyed brown. She was of middling years, but her eyes were keen as she smiled in greeting.

  “Samuel, you didn’t tell me she was such a beauty!” the lady said.

  “Is she?” Samuel drawled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Don’t listen to him, my dear,” the lady said to Penny. “Samuel is known to have a keen eye.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” said Penny as she dropped into her best curtsy. “And thank you for allowing me to attend.”

  “Pshaw!” the woman cried. “Samuel is always a delight, and his guests are always welcome. Provided, of course, that they do not land in the punch this time.” She shot Samuel a severe look.

  “A simple accident,” he returned. Then he explained it to Penny. “A Russian acrobat with the bad sense to overindulge in brandy before his show.”

  “Oh,” said Penny. “Well, I shall be sure to keep my feet on the ground tonight.”

  “Only if you want,” the lady returned. “After all, the Russian made my party the talk of the ton for weeks!”

  Then they were passed down the line. She was introduced to the marquis, who was easily twice the lady’s age. His eyes were vague, his hands arthritic, and Penny thought he was about to drool. So the introduction was by necessity very brief.

  Soon they had descended into the party at large. Samuel stayed by her side, speaking in low accents. He introduced her to poets and artists, to this lord and that lady. They all regarded her with some amusement before turning their attention to Samuel.

  “Anything clever to do tonight?” they invariably asked.

  To which he would always answer, “Not tonight.” And then whoever it was would turn away in disappointment. And when Penny began to object to the question, he always patted her hand. “I told you I was here for their amusement. It’s how I get invited to parties.”

  “By being amusing? Like a trained dog?”

  He simply shrugged as if that meant nothing to him, then turned to introduce her to someone else.

  Twice she tensed unbearably when he introduced her to one of her father’s customers. Neither man even remembered her. Then the third—Lord Ferrers—narrowed his eyes in thought.

  “Ah, yes, the pretty one with the clever hands. You’ve grown up quite nicely, Miss Shoemaker. Quite nicely indeed.” And to her surprise, he requested a dance.

  She held up her card, sadly empty. Samuel produced a pencil, and suddenly there was a name on her card. It was only after they’d separated from Lord Ferrers that Samuel turned to her.

  “I’m terribly sorry for not asking before. Do you know how to dance the quadrille?”

  She nodded. “We had dance classes at my school. And I reviewed the steps with Mrs. Appleton this afternoon.”

  “There you go. I knew you were a clever girl. And what about the waltz? Did they teach you that at school?”

  “No. But Francine showed me.”

  “Excellent.” Then he took her card and scribbled his name on every waltz listed. Four of them to be exact.

  “I haven’t practiced it very much.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Everyone knows I’m a terrible dancer so any errors will be laid at my door.” Then before she could comment, he was all smiles. “Gillian, you are looking lovely tonight. Miss Shoemaker, may I introduce Gillian Conley, Lady Mavenford.”

  So it went. Everyone was cordial; no one sneered or laughed at her. In truth, they reserved all that for Samuel as they recounted exploit after exploit of his. She learned about how he recovered one lady’s necklace, how he teased the Russian drunk, and embarrassed a cheeky by-blow who had just abused a maid. On and on it went. She spoke trivialities with titled ladies and impoverished poets alike. Once, at Samuel’s prompting, she even gave business advice to a vague-looking woman who wanted to start a perfumery. Her name was Melinda and she was apparently the woman he’d expressly wished her to meet. But while the other guests chatted sweetly to her, they poked at him with a rather insulting good humor. He was their dancing dog, all his brilliance turned to entertaining party guests.

  She was still mulling that over when it was time to dance. Her fears surged to the fore, but it turned out, she could dance with a modicum of success. Eventually, she had other partners, most prompted by Samuel, if she had to guess. By the time the supper buffet began, Penny could hardly believe that the evening was more than half over. And more surprising still, she was becoming bored.

  No longer a mass of anxiety, she was relaxed enough to realize that speaking among this set was no easier or harder than chatting with a customer. A few well-timed questions, and she had whoever it was nattering on about one thing or another. All she had to do was pretend interest and everything went well. There were even a few that she genuinely liked. A painter, a political writer, and the beautiful Gillian, Lady Mavenford, who had a surprising understanding of the life of the servant class. The woman was very excited about a school she was trying to establish in her home village in York.

  Penny danced some, talked more, drank tepid punch, and even managed to finish a waltz in Samuel’s arms with ease. He hadn’t lied when he said he was a terrible dancer, but the joy of being in his arms was enough for her. In fact, they were in the middle of their third waltz when Penny realized she was enjoying herself!
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  “This is a lovely evening, Samuel,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  He grinned back at her and said something that sounded like, “Pigeon course.” That wasn’t right. He’d probably said, “But of course.” Whatever it was didn’t matter. Trying to talk and dance at the same time was too much for him. He stumbled, she caught him, and soon they were fumbling about. By the time they had recovered, Penny found herself laughing, especially since the others on the floor were chuckling as well.

  “You still got two left feet, Morrison,” one man drawled as he and his partner sailed by.

  Samuel simply shrugged, flashed a sheepish grin, and picked up Penny’s arms again. They finished the dance without further mishap, and Penny felt yet another fear slide from her shoulders. Everything was well. And if she wasn’t exactly accepted among these people, she wasn’t reviled. So she smiled her most beautiful smile at Samuel and felt her heart swell with love.

  “This is the most wonderful evening of my entire life,” she said as he led her off the dance floor.

  She was so caught up in her happiness that she didn’t see the man step up to them. Samuel saw him, of course, and was in the middle of speaking a greeting when it happened.

  Samuel said, “Oh, hello, Bingley—”

  And then he was flattened by a facer direct to his jaw.

  Chapter 20

  Samuel felt his head snap back. He lost his balance and fell. He landed hard on his bum and barely kept his head from cracking on the marble floor. But that was nothing compared to the shock reverberating in his brain.

  Carl Bingley, his best friend from school, had just hit him. Not only hit him, but planted him a facer that dropped him to the floor right in front of Penny.

  “You bloody bastard!” the man raged as he stood over Samuel. “You bugger! You bleeding…” The list went on, all words that should not have been said in front of Penny. And all Samuel could do was stare up at his onetime friend.

  The man was shaking with fury, his words more a reflex than conscious thought. And Samuel could see that Carl’s fury was as much despair as it was anger. But that didn’t lessen the pain in his face or the humiliation that Penny was now stepping between himself and Carl.

  “Hey, now! What are you about?” To add to the disaster, Penny’s hands were clenching into fists. A moment more and she’d raise them to defend him physically and that would put paid to any hope that she could move about in polite society. Ladies did not fight.

  Samuel scrambled to his feet and tried to gently move Penny aside. But as Carl was raising his fists to plant him another facer, Penny didn’t want to go anywhere.

  “Carl!” he snapped as a way to draw the man’s attention away. “What is the matter, man? What has happened?”

  “They burned down, Sammy! Burned to the ground! I’m ruined! You’ve ruined me!”

  Samuel counted himself a brilliant man, one who saw things with a keen eye and came to conclusions with extraordinary speed. But at Carl’s words, his mind stuttered to a cold and ugly stop.

  “W-What?” he stammered.

  “Burned, Sammy! Both of them.”

  “Both?” He swallowed and it was a miracle he didn’t drop to the floor right there. Two factories, side by side. Of course, if one burned to the ground, then the other was likely to go as well. Of course, that was obvious. But he hadn’t thought about that when he’d invested in the two businesses. When he’d convinced his brother and Carl both to pour thousands of pounds into the investments. At the time, he’d been thinking economies of scale. That the two businesses could have one center for shipping and receiving. They could share security costs at night. They could negotiate for larger discounts by working together. That was all he’d thought about. Economies of scale.

  He hadn’t once thought about fire.

  “It can’t be,” he murmured, even though he knew Carl would never lie. The man was too furious, too distraught for it to be false. “Quarter day is two weeks away. Just two weeks…”

  “Not a groat left,” Carl ground out. His fury was draining away to be replaced by a haunted emptiness. The man was married and his wife pregnant. And what about Samuel’s brother? Greg had a wife and two children, not that Samuel thought about their daughter much. She was too little, but she would grow. Would they have to sell their London home? Would Max have to live back at the baronetcy?

  “Two weeks,” he mumbled again. “Two weeks and we would have recouped—”

  “Nothing, Sammy! It’s all gone!”

  Samuel shook his head. He would not believe it. He straightened his spine. “I have to see it. I have to know—”

  “Where do you think I’ve been? I was in Leister when I heard the news. Went straight there.”

  “There must be something left. Something to salvage.”

  “Burnt stubs and ashes.” Carl’s fists finally dropped to his side, and his shoulders drooped in defeat. “It’s all gone. Will take years to rebuild. Years and a bloody fortune that I don’t have.”

  “None of us do,” Samuel murmured. Not he, not Carl, and certainly not his brother. At least Greg still had the baronetcy. That gave him a home. Carl’s position was more tenuous, but his father-in-law would help. He would not be out on the street.

  But Samuel…He closed his eyes. He’d put everything into those factories. Everything.

  “You’re sure?” he whispered without even opening his eyes.

  “Burnt stubs and ashes.”

  Samuel bit back a moan. How could it have gone so wrong? How could he not have thought about fire? How could he have invested everything he had into this? Questions burned through his mind without relief. And into this agony came Penny’s very calm, very rational voice.

  “Come along, gents. Surely there’s a room where you can put your feet up and have a brandy. Lady Guillamore, you have a place, haven’t you?”

  “Of course, of course,” the marchioness said, but Samuel could tell by her voice that she was disappointed. Opening his eyes, he saw that everyone at the ball was watching his destruction with eager amusement and some satisfaction. Samuel had managed to be entertaining, after all. News of his debacle would be commonplace within an hour. “Come along, Samuel, Mr. Bingley. The room right over here. Miss Shoemaker, can I interest you in some strong tea?”

  They shuffled along easily enough. The crowd parted slowly for them, but they did part. Samuel didn’t speak. In truth, he could barely function. What he wanted most was to wrap his arms around Penny and hold the world at bay for a while, but he couldn’t even touch Penny’s hand. He hadn’t the right anymore. His gaze fell onto the aquamarine at her throat. At least he’d managed to give her that before he lost everything.

  She must have noticed his stare. She touched the necklace and gave him a wistful smile. “Never you mind about this. I’ll take it back tomorrow. See that you get all your money back.”

  “The devil you will!” he snapped. “It’s yours. You will keep it and wear it proudly!”

  “Samuel—” she said, but he cut her off.

  “I’m not done in,” he lied. “There’s a way out.” But there wasn’t. One couldn’t make new investments without any money. And not only was he broke, but he was in debt, too. He started calculating all the expenses he’d accrued lately, all the creditors who were waiting until quarter day for their due. There was rent and a tailor bill now for the new coat and trousers he wore tonight.

  Was he headed for debtor’s prison? The very idea shook him to the core.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said to Carl. “Your father-in-law, and all.”

  The man groaned in response, but didn’t disagree.

  “And Greg has the baronetcy. He’ll have to share with Mother, but they always got on well.”

  “But what about you, Sammy? Where will you go?”

  Prison, probably. He almost said it aloud with a hysterical kind of laugh. Someone pressed a brandy glass into his hand. He opened his eyes. It was Penny, her e
xpression calm, her eyes sympathetic. Giving in to temptation, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his face into her belly. Last night, he’d pretended he could do this to her when she was pregnant with his child. He’d actually imagined listening for the babe’s heartbeat.

  Now it took everything in him not to weep. He could never have her. She deserved a man who could take her to parties and balls, who would support their children in style and send them to the finest schools in England. Samuel was so far from that man. He shouldn’t even have been touching her, but he couldn’t let her go. And when he felt her hand gently stroke his hair, he nearly sobbed out his despair right there.

  “Hush, Samuel. There’s always a way. Isn’t that what you said to me? We’ll find a way.”

  There was no way. “Fire,” he mumbled against her belly. “Why didn’t I think about fire?”

  “Posh. Why didn’t I think about a solicitor writing my father’s false will? Because we don’t think about these things. If we thought about all the bad that could happened, we’d never get out of bed. And we’d still miss things.”

  Samuel didn’t answer. Instead, he inhaled deeply, smelling the scent that was Penny. Feeling the caress of her hand in his hair. And wishing for one last time for the things that could never be now. He wasn’t her Sir Galahad. He was the court jester, and now it was time for him to withdraw.

  He forced himself to straighten away from her. It was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but he was a man, damn it, and he would not wallow like a lost child.

  “It’s time, I suppose, to take you home. I shall ask Rachel for her carriage—”

  “What? Don’t be silly. It’s a nice night and—”

  “The evening should end as it began, Penny. A beautiful night to remember forever.”

  She looked at him then, her eyes calm and her body still. She was thinking hard, he knew, but he hadn’t a clue about what. Then the moment passed, and she was turning to the marchioness.

  “Can you see to his friend?” she asked the lady, indicating Carl. “Can you see he gets home safely?”