His Forbidden Debutante

by Anabelle Bryant

  An ironic burst of applause resounded somewhere in the background and she too registered the sound, her mouth paused against his, all at once motionless in the chaotic perfection of their moment.

  ‘We should return.’ Her words teased his lips with puffs of air and syllables. ‘Someone will look for me.’

  Good God, he’d left Claire waiting in the box.

  He pulled away with too much force, worsening the vertiginous sway of her body as she fell further into his hold, yet his palm found her lower back in the most natural of movements, no matter in the darkness she likely experienced the same dizzying lightheadedness he sought to clear. No, she hadn’t objected and instead offered her kiss with honest generosity.

  Her whisper heated his cheek. ‘I will remember this always.’

  Her fervent vow skewered his heart, cleaved his promise to leave. He should ask for her full name for he knew her only as Livie. But no… The question would worsen his condition, prompt him to seek her address, prod him to discover her situation. He’d already planned his future. This hesitation, this illicit, straying obsession, whatever one labelled it, was wrong. Unforgivable. He all at once hated everything he represented, every rule he’d sought to uphold. He was no more than a fraud for his weakness, standing in the dark with the wrong woman in his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  I confess any day when I receive your letter becomes the veriest day. My parents believe my dedication to our correspondence a girlish preoccupation, but I know it as my soul’s breathing and heart’s confession, sent to you. I feel as though I know you more so than words on paper. You are brave and honourable and certainly as handsome in character as I deem your appearance. Emotion this dedicated and incontrovertible cannot be denied.

  Glory. All other descriptions paled. Livie stepped from the Earl’s embrace, dazed and exquisitely delighted. No longer insecure or unsure, for hadn’t he kissed her with the truest emotion? She touched her fingertips to her lips as if to prevent the feeling from fading, then dropped her hand, all too aware he could likely discern her actions.

  A first kiss was a miraculous thing. An occurrence to be remembered always and cherished, no matter where life’s journey led; and she’d experienced her first kiss with the most perfect man; handsome and strong, with the ability to charm her to the core.

  She’d had opportunities before, in Shropshire and once in a shadowy corner of the library here in London, but something always prompted her discreet denial with an underlying belief her first kiss would hold magic if only she sustained patience.

  And so she did.

  A smile crept across her face. Comprehension locked into place. Somehow she’d known deep down where she kept her most precious secrets that there would be a crowning moment, a pinnacle of her transformation from girlhood to womanhood, and this was it. She’d flirted, matured, dared to dream of love and romance, but this cemented her place among London’s females. The next time she would kiss the Earl with fervour. She’d been too shocked to do more than react instinctively and experience the sudden embrace. Saying goodbye to Randolph had freed her to explore life, allow new emotion and, oh, how it had proven true.

  At the Earl’s request she exited the alcove before him, blinking rapidly behind her spectacles to clear her mind and regain focus in the bright lit corridor. Operatic melodies reverberated in tune to the beat of her heart. The hallway answered silent and empty. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight, the words a stiff warning.

  ‘You’d best return.’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused a beat longer and drew a ragged breath. ‘Until someday…’ She exhaled the words, releasing a wish between them, and his eyes narrowed in question before he nodded in curt dismissal.

  She readily obeyed, returning to Dashwood’s reserved theatre box, buoyant and joyful, as if she walked on air.

  ‘Calm down and refine your meaning when you state you’ve laid waste to Claire’s honour.’ Jasper paced the length of the tack room, his tone expressing exasperation with Penwick’s brief explanation. ‘We’ve ridden for a better portion of the morning and you’ve mentioned not a word until here we stand in the stable and you look as though you’ve experienced the worst kind of blow. Why the Friday-face? What’s happened?’

  Penwick eyed his friend, grateful for their conversation in hope it would assuage the angst of regret and confusion that spiked his emotions. He pondered how to broach the subject for the duration of their morning ride and only now found the words, ensconced in his stables, the familiar scent of barley and hay a comfort to his foolish endeavours.

  Jasper was an honourable, sensible man; his advice would be welcomed and dependable. Penwick secured Viceroy’s harness on a hook on the wall and turned to confront the issue head-on. ‘Last evening I attended the opera with Claire.’

  ‘Very good. Your action reflects well your commitment.’ Jasper leaned back to settle against the doorframe.

  ‘I…’ He paused as a stab of shame attempted to rally his conscience, but with commanding objection a vivid image of Livie materialised as if she waited in his brain to fortify his defence. ‘I kissed someone else when I left the box in search of refreshments. Claire felt parched, though it was my physical condition that I managed to quench.’

  Jasper said nothing for a few ticks of silence and the unbroken saturninity frayed Penwick’s nerves.

  ‘I see.’ Jasper’s tone expressed the opposite. ‘If you’re having second thoughts…’

  ‘I must marry.’ Penwick threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘Every male in my family died long before their natural time, some as young as 30 years.’ He fell silent. His father had instilled in him a great sense of responsibility since boyhood and he would not mar his sire’s memory with failure. ‘I need to marry and propagate now that I bear the responsibility of the earldom. One which requires decades of improvement. I also need an heir, and a spare, maybe two, the way death perseverates in my lineage.’ He stopped, determination holding the hard set of his jaw. ‘I signify the end or the beginning.’ The weight of that admittance encumbered his conscience.

  ‘I understand you must marry, but not to the wrong woman.’ Jasper shook his head as if the idea inconceivable.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Claire.’ The words were said with a gentle fury that surprised even him.

  ‘I didn’t mean to imply there was, but perhaps she’s the wrong woman for you.’

  ‘I’m wrong. Everything’s wrong.’ Damn, he didn’t know his own mind any more. ‘I’ll learn to get on with it well enough.’

  ‘That’s how you envision your future? A contest of endurance?’ Jasper’s voice gentled. ‘Does she stir your heart, man? Are you gladdened when she enters the room? Does your body ache to know her? And do you dream of her, value her more than your own life? These are the important questions.’ He approached, each enquiry accompanied by a stride. ‘That is the test of true love.’

  ‘Many a marriage is built on less. It doesn’t matter. The feelings will develop…’ He stopped, unable to continue the lie.

  ‘If you believe that, you are a fool,’ Jasper scoffed, disappointment clear in his expression. ‘Marry for less than love and your resentment will grow until any sense of distance with Claire you feel now will widen until it swallows you whole. Think carefully, my friend. Consider what I say and examine your heart to decide what is in it. Then act with the courage I know you possess.’

  At one time he had known the contents of his heart, able to label each emotion with precise understanding.

  Lavinia knew.

  ‘No one would wish to live the rest of their days without love.’ Jasper’s words hung in the air, a challenge and a promise.

  Penwick shook his head, dismissing them. ‘How many days will that be, anyway? Can I consider a long future with the history in my family? My heart is bound to give out like every male before me.’

  ‘Is that the impetus of your sense of urgency? Don’t treat me as an imbecile. You’re hal
f the size of your father, fit and muscular, with endurance stronger than mine. You practise none of the poor habits of your cousins. You’ve a long life ahead of you, so plan it accordingly.’ Jasper’s demeanour lightened.

  Jasper understood, though his friend was entirely devoted to Emily. Love at first sight, one might label their romance. He represented honest affection and unassailable integrity, qualities Penwick believed they’d shared. Until now. Yet how could he regret kissing Livie? Were he to label it a rout, a one-time celebratory farewell to bachelorhood, then he would not ruin the memory with wasted repentance.

  ‘And about that unexpected happening last evening…’ Jasper flashed a smile and Penwick eased. ‘I assume it was a matter of circumstance more than arranged assignation.’

  ‘Yes. Of course, and there isn’t more to tell. As you know, I am a man of my word in possession of impeccable scruples, but in this…’ His voice trailed off. ‘I’ve been most uncharitable.’ He would not voice regret and spoil the remembrance. At the same time, he owed Claire fidelity. She was respectful and biddable. He faltered in his familiar listing of her attributes. His behaviour proved unconscionable. First his unnatural obsession with the letters and now this. So many memories to poison his resolve. He shook his head as if to rid the redundant opposition holding strong within his temperament.

  ‘And by the by, you are an honourable gentleman. Stealing a kiss when you are engaged but not priest-linked does not lower your praiseworthy reputation nor blemish your character. I’ve known many a man to commit grave errors on the night before their vows, others who live very different lives than what we foresee as marriage. This does not signify. Didn’t Beaufort encourage you to explore a bit of waggish sport?’

  ‘I don’t often abide Beaufort’s mutton-headed rigmarole.’

  ‘But in this he offered sound advice.’ Jasper laid a reassuring hand upon Penwick’s shoulder. ‘This unlikely embrace either reaffirmed devotion to your intended or elucidated underlying reservations. Either way it serves good purpose.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Penwick was hard-pressed to see the benefits of pining for one when betrothed to another. He’d acted too rash, proposing to Claire with a misguided sense of purpose and duty instead of allowing the natural progression of their relationship. He cursed himself with every foul word in his vocabulary. Damn those letters. A stab of searing loss followed his mental oath. They’d tarnished his emotions permanently, causing him to seek some type of bond to settle the unrelenting hope for Lavinia’s attention, thus bringing him to this point. Trapped by poor decision.

  True, he could envision a life with Claire, content, consistent and regular, but the thought died as he took to counsel his friend’s advice and the dismal realisation that these qualities were not what he witnessed when Jasper spied Emily across the room, nor what Kell exuded when he spoke of Angelica.

  ‘Who is she, this woman who’s upended your world?’ Jasper probed with interest, a question knit between his brows.

  ‘I’d rather not say. I hardly know her and will consider the entire incident a moment of weakness and poor judgement.’ He had no other choice. To break off the engagement would cause permanent damage to Claire’s reputation. He could never countenance causing her undue duress. Not that his interest in Livie provoked such rash action. Still, he’d failed his intended and violated her trust, unbeknownst of course, but nevertheless it weighed heavily on his conscience. He swallowed, desperate to reorder his priorities once and for all. He would come to love Claire in time and learn to forget everything else in an attempt to at last restore the fibre of his honour.

  ‘No need to lambast. You’ve done nothing to deserve this self-flagellation. While I know you possess an impeccable code of honour, bear in mind gentlemen keep mistresses while married. Many philander with courtesans in brief and long-lasting relationships. One kiss before the vows does not deserve harsh judgement. Stop twisting yourself in knots. Forget it happened. If you decide to commit to a future with Claire, concentrate on your wedding with a clear conscience and forgive the indiscretion.’

  ‘Your advice is appreciated. Thank you. I admit to overthinking the process. I suppose my cautious hesitation stems from a desire to establish a secure footing for marriage, build on a dependable foundation to manage years of weathering and challenge.’

  ‘Are we discussing a courtship or the purchase of a new home?’

  Jasper threw him a carefree smile and Penwick strove to heed his friend’s words, remarkably aware his heart would remember that forbidden kiss until its cessation.

  Livie closed the Ackermann’s edition nestled on her lap and surrendered to a heavy sigh. She couldn’t concentrate on elegant designs and fashionable footwear. All she could think about was that kiss, his kiss, Penwick’s delectable mouth upon hers. She was embarrassed and a trifle alarmed that she’d spent a sleepless night dreaming about the Earl, only to follow the preoccupation with a distracted morning fixated on the same.

  Last night she’d returned to the theatre box and feigned to be the perfect opera enthusiast, but the tears in her eyes weren’t evoked by the heroine’s high-pitched arias or distraught hero’s tragic end. So much emotion coursed through her, she had no other outlet than to weep, unable to confide in Esme or chatter to Dinah. So she remained, her spine ramrod straight, attention fixed to the stage, while every sensation in her capability intensified, her watery eyes the result.

  She was ruined, her heart and soul sworn to the Earl of Penwick. Something about their chance meetings and odd connection spoke to her with intuitive tenderness. It was like she’d known him for years though they’d only met one week before.

  Of course, circumstances proved complicated. He’d attended the opera with another woman and in all likelihood deemphasised the circumstances concerning their relationship. Additionally, after stealing a kiss, he’d dismissed her with nothing more than a curt nod as they parted ways beyond the alcove. For this she was the wiser. She punctuated that conclusion with an ironic chuckle. He likely no longer considered their kiss, one of many to have passed from his rakish lips. But his lips… If she thought about his mouth overlong, her neck and face heated pink, her hands trembled. His lips were heavenly sin.

  With only days until her come-out, when all society would know she opened her eyes to the future’s possibilities and embraced her debut, she’d cornered herself into lovesick emotion by kissing the Earl of Penwick. She shook her head in abashed disbelief. First Randolph’s letters, now this pining torment. Lud, she was hopeless, a forlorn romantic destined for disappointment and misery. And, too, she’d instigated the Earl’s invitation and Dashwood had agreed.

  ‘There you are. I’ve been looking all over the house for you.’

  Wilhelmina entered the parlour, startling Livie from her mental anguish. The magazine slid from her grasp as she twisted in her seat to meet her sister’s welcome, but she didn’t retrieve it, too vexed at her contrary emotion to bother.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ A woeful grimace replaced Whimsy’s cheerful expression.

  ‘No, of course not.’ Livie smiled quickly, anxious to displace whatever discontent she’d displayed while lost in her personal turmoil.

  ‘Good. For a moment I was concerned.’ Whimsy retrieved the fallen magazine and settled in the adjacent chair. ‘Are you nervous about your celebration? You’ve said little these past few days and you aren’t always forthcoming with your thoughts. You know you can talk to me about most anything?’

  ‘Yes. You are forever worrying.’

  ‘As an older sister should, and besides, this is the moment you’ve worked so hard to achieve. I don’t want even one thing to go wrong. Your debut will be perfection from beginning to end. I’m sure of it, and who knows what will happen?’ Wilhelmina reached across the arm of the chair and placed her fingertip atop the silver charm bracelet circling Livie’s wrist. ‘I would have never believed this bracelet would be back in our lives, but it is, and I wonder if it holds a bit of enchantment, for it
brought Dash and me together, or at least I believe it played a part. Perhaps it will work its magic upon you.’

  ‘I’m not so sure I like the way that sounds.’ Apprehension laced each word. ‘I’d much rather choose my own spouse; a husband who is comfortable in all things, dependable and refined, polished and strong, and, of course, able to catch everyone’s attention by way of sharp appearance.’

  ‘Are we discussing a husband candidate or a pair of new slippers you’ve eyed in that edition of Ackermann’s?’

  They shared a giggle over the comparison.

  ‘Well, the two apportion common qualities.’ Livie sighed, the admittance more true than false. ‘I wouldn’t object to being swept off my feet, although I’ve worked hard these long months to regain my independence and stand on my own.’

  ‘There’s no denying your struggle. You deserve the finest man, loyal and trustworthy, one who will treat you like a queen, bejewelled crown included.’

  Together their eyes fell to the bracelet where Livie fiddled with the charms until the ornate silver crown balanced against her skin. The diamond chip near the scrolled edge twinkled as it captured light. ‘I’ll need a much smaller noggin, I believe.’

  They burst into laughter at the notion, though as their merriment subsided, Livie couldn’t help but reflect how conversation with Randolph had contained everything: humour, sensibility, affection, and most of all a unique understanding connection, as if he could decipher the code which embodied her heart. Dare she hope to find the same quality in another?

  The domed clock on the escritoire chimed in and, relieved to put away her pensive thoughts, Livie stood up and smoothed her skirts. ‘I promised Esme we would meet this afternoon. She’s anxious to hear the last-minute details for Saturday evening and as the weather is milder today we’ve arranged to meet at Gunter’s.’