by Cheryl Holt
“You’re delighted I’m here,” Barbara chided. “Don’t you dare deny it.”
“Yes, I’m delighted. Who could ever have imagined I would be?”
“Anyone who knows me could imagine it, you oaf.”
“I’ve always been a stuffed shirt. I was the one in school who demanded we play by the rules. I was the one who wouldn’t cheat at exams.”
“You were an absolute boor about it,” Lord Redvers teased.
“Yes, I was, because I was terrified that if I misbehaved, I might enjoy it too much. Esther often warned me that I carried too much of my mother’s blood, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d turn out just like her.”
“Perish the thought.” Barbara gave a mock shudder that produced hoots of glee.
“I never rocked a boat,” Penworth continued, “or flouted a convention, and I was the biggest snob who ever lived. It was drilled into me that I was elevated above others simply because of who my father had been, but recently, I learned an interesting lesson.”
“What is that?” Lady Hastings asked.
“I possess all of my mother’s worst traits, and I’m sick of being cautious and doing the right thing. I’m ready to do a few things that are reckless and unexpected.”
“Like what?” Mrs. Odell inquired.
“Just watch me.”
He left his perch at the head of the table, and he started down the side, marching directly toward Lily. His gaze was locked on hers.
She blanched. What was he thinking? What was his intent?
She pushed back her chair, prepared to jump up and flee, but Barbara put a hand on her arm, halting her.
“Last summer,” Penworth said, “I met Miss Lily Lambert. I hired her to work for me, and I quickly found that I couldn’t resist her. I was determined to commence an affair, and I chased her till she caught me.”
“I never had anything to do with him,” Lily vehemently asserted.
“She’s lying.” He was practically preening over the illicit liaison. “She’s pretty and smart and funny. And sexy as hell.”
“Would you be silent?” she fumed.
He was getting closer and closer.
“We spent a delicious week trapped underground in the hot springs at Penworth Castle. Every bit of the salacious story is true.”
“It is not!”
“The interval was extremely decadent. Let your imagination run wild, and our carnal encounter was somewhere far beyond that.”
“Ssh! You’re embarrassing me!”
“I haven’t begun to embarrass you, my darling Lily.”
He skirted the end of the table, and he swooped in and fell to his knees in front of her. She didn’t like to have him so near. When she was around him, she couldn’t control herself. He overwhelmed her good sense so that she made stupid decisions.
She leaned away, needing to have more space between them, but she couldn’t escape.
“I am madly, passionately in love with her,” he announced.
The men smirked, while the ladies sighed with romantic pleasure.
“No, he’s not,” Lily scoffed.
“Can you believe it? I tell her I love her, and she says I’m a lunatic. I propose marriage, and she tells me no.”
“I bet she’s the first woman who’s ever refused you,” Lord Redvers guffawed.
“I’ve told her that I changed, that I no longer care about lineage or heritage, so her status doesn’t matter to me. I want her to be my bride, so I had to do something drastic, something so out of character she would see my words are sincere.”
He reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew the engagement ring he’d previously shown her. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, with a huge emerald in the center, surrounded by tiny diamonds. The candles in the chandelier enhanced the color so it glowed. It was like a talisman, luring her in, tempting her to grab for it.
She started to tremble.
“This silly, silly female—” he began.
“Is there any other kind?” Captain Odell inquired, and his wife elbowed him in the ribs.
“This silly female thinks I don’t love her, that if she weds me, I will grow weary with regret.”
He’d been staring at the guests, and he turned to face her. He was smiling, warm affection shining in his eyes.
“So I have created a spectacle. I have stirred gossip and fomented rumor, for she knows me well and can affirm that there is nothing I detest more. Before all of you, my lifelong companions, I make a fool of myself. For her.”
“Don’t do this,” she begged. “You don’t want this. You can’t want this.”
“I am Earl of Penworth, Lily. How many times must I tell you that I can do whatever I wish?”
He slid the ring onto her finger, and the odd sensation swept over her again. The room faded until there was only him. Her heart swelled inside her chest till it seemed too large, as if it might burst out of her skin.
A hundred scenes flashed through her mind: their first meeting, their first kiss, their first carnal tryst. She remembered the splendid autumn she’d passed with him, how happy she’d been, how alive she’d felt.
Why had she let such strident sentiment slip away? Could she get it back?
“Lily,” he murmured, yanking her from her riveting reverie, “I have a confession to make.”
“What is it?”
“I bought a love potion from Mr. Dudley.”
“You did?”
“My mother mixed it into your wine for me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
No wonder Lily felt so strange. One of Dudley’s potions was raging in her veins.
“I bought one for myself, too,” he claimed. “It was in the brandy I just finished.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “There are a few people here who have had their own experience with Dudley and his magic.” He peered down the table. “How many of you ladies drank his Spinster’s Cure?”
Lady Redvers and Mrs. Odell raised their hands, and they were grinning.
“Lily drank it, too—while staring at me. She actually did it twice. What are her chances of evading its power?”
“None,” they agreed.
“What are my chances of evading the fate it set in motion for me?”
“None,” they replied even louder, chuckling.
“Lily, on bended knee, before my mother and all of my friends, I ask you to marry me.”
“Oh . . . oh ...”
“I swear to you that I will always love you, that I will always keep and protect you, that I will be faithful and kind and loyal till my dying day.” He took a deep breath, then swallowed. “Will you have me?”
“You mean it. You’re serious.” She was shaking so violently that she could hardly stay seated in her chair.
“Of course I’m serious. Do you think I go around proposing to women at the drop of a hat?”
“Well, you were betrothed to someone else just last month.”
The room exploded with peals of laughter.
“A minor mistake on my part.”
“It certainly was.”
“Say yes, Lily,” he urged. “Make our dreams come true.”
She gazed at him, then at Barbara, then down the table, settling on each person, one by one. These were the people who knew him best. They were nodding encouragement, as if they had specifically joined with him, a phalanx of family and friends standing as witnesses to his promise and guarantors to his pledge.
How could she refuse to believe him? How could she rebuff him again?
“I . . . I love you,” she shyly divulged, embarrassed to have so many others listening in.
“You finally admit it, you scamp!” He leaned in and stole a wild, torrid kiss that had the onlookers clapping and exclaiming. “Don’t be afraid. Say yes.”
“I’m not afraid.” Tears flooded her eyes.
“Trust me, Lily. Take a chance. Do it for me. Do it for yourself.”
The weight of the ring felt heavy on her finger, and after they had watched him put it on, she could never remove it.
“I want it all,” she murmured. “I want it so badly.”
“And you shall have it.”
“I’ve always been alone.”
“I know you have.”
“I’ve had to work and struggle and toil.”
“Never again.”
“I want to belong somewhere. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want a home of my own and children to mother. Will you give them to me?”
“Yes, Lily, I will give them to you.” He rested a palm on her stomach, his quiet confirmation that he suspected they’d already started the family she craved.
“Then yes, John Middleton, I will marry you.”
There was a shocked pause.
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it.”
“With me it’s forever. If you can’t abide your life with me, I won’t allow you to flit off like my mother did.”
Barbara snorted, as Lily smiled and said, “Why would I ever go? I have everything I need right here with you.”
Epilogue
“WHERE will you go?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Phillip gazed at Miss Lambert, then stopped to correct himself. She was now Countess of Penworth, but he was having trouble getting used to the appellation.
The hell with it, he mused. She’d always been Miss Lambert to him, and she always would be. It seemed wrong to stick such a fancy label on her.
“How about your sister?” she asked. “Will she stay in Scotland?”
“Yes, she’s content to remain, and it doesn’t appear as if Captain Odell will return anytime soon to kick her out of his house.”
“Will you travel north to live with her again?”
He stared at the sky as if he could see Scotland, as if he could see Clarinda smiling and waving.
“No, I won’t go back.”
“How will you occupy yourself?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why do I assume you’ll find some mischief?”
“I have a knack for it, don’t I?”
“You surely do.”
He pointed to her wedding band.
“I believe,” he smirked, “someone owes me an apology. That would be you. Did I, or did I not, tell you he would marry you in the end?”
“Yes, you did, and I was an absolute churl to have doubted you.”
He chuckled. “I love to be proved right. Say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She clucked her tongue in disgust. “You’re a vain beast. Much like my husband, but I like you both anyway.”
She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, which made him feel absurdly glad.
They were by his peddler’s wagon, the rear doors propped wide to display his bottles and jars. During his sojourn in Scotland, he’d stored it in a shed, and with his being back in England, he’d pulled it out and cleaned it up, but it didn’t hold the thrill it previously had.
Perhaps, at age thirty, he was finally growing up and becoming interested in honest endeavors. Or perhaps—without Clarinda by his side—his chosen profession no longer appealed.
He had no desire to seek out new customers, to hawk his wares or mix batches of potion. He was restless, chomping at the bit to be on the road. But to where?
He had no home; he didn’t belong anywhere and never had. Where would he go, and once he arrived, what would he do?
Penworth’s carriage was parked down the street. The door opened, and he climbed out.
“Lily,” Penworth said, “I’m sorry, but we need to depart.”
“Duty calls,” she told Phillip. “We’re off to Penworth Hall, his family seat in the country, so I can be formally introduced to the servants and tenants.”
“My little countess,” Phillip teased. “How are you enjoying yourself?”
“I’m so happy, Dudley.”
“And I am so delighted for you.”
He escorted her over to her husband, and Penworth helped her into the carriage.
He and Penworth didn’t like each other very much. It was difficult to move beyond the night when Penworth had caught Phillip and Barbara in bed together. But as a favor to Penworth’s wife and mother—whom they both adored—they could manage not to bicker.
“Take care of her, Penworth,” Phillip insisted. “If you don’t, you’ll answer to me.”
“It will never be necessary, Dudley. Lily is my rock and my foundation. She always will be.”
Penworth hoisted himself in, and a footman shut the door. Miss Lambert leaned out the window, and Phillip clasped her hand.
“I’ll worry about you,” she said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Write to me when you can.”
“I will.”
He’d never had a person with whom to correspond, and he was pitifully flattered that she’d suggested it.
“I have to keep Barbara apprised of your antics,” Miss Lambert explained. “She’ll want to know where you are and what you’re doing.”
“Well then, I’ll definitely be sure to stay in touch.”
A silence ensued, and suddenly, they were both ridiculously maudlin.
“Let me hear your French accent,” Miss Lambert said. “Let me hear it one last time.”
“Au revoir, mon amie.”
“Good-bye.”
“Ah, chérie, have a grand life.”
“I intend to.”
Phillip kissed her knuckles, and the intimacy was too much for Penworth. He rapped on the roof, and the carriage lurched away. Miss Lambert waved until they were far in the distance and Phillip could no longer see her.
He nodded his farewell, pleased with himself and the conclusion he’d wrought, and then he turned to his wagon.
The placard painted on the side made him snort with amusement. He claimed to sell a bit of everything: Love Potions! Invigorating Tonics! The Latest Therapies Known to Man & Science! The list went on and on.
People were so damned gullible, so lonely and easily swayed.
Don’t forget the spinsters you’ve cured, he reflected to himself. If you don’t believe me, just ask Lily Lambert.
He puttered around, fussing with the display, rearranging the jars, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Ultimately, an acquaintance arrived, a fellow for whom he’d been waiting. After a brief discussion, they settled on a price for the wagon, the horse, and all the merchandise. Money was exchanged, and there was no reason to linger.
He peered down the street. Where to go? What to do?
He picked a direction and started off, but at the last second, he went back. He grabbed a few vials of love potion, of his Spinster’s Cure, and a bottle of his Woman’s Daily Remedy.
“You never know when one of these might come in handy,” he advised his friend.
He spun and walked on.