He dismounted with ease, though he likely appeared as aristocratic as stale bread. He needed a hot bath and several hours of uninterrupted slumber. The remembrance of sleeping with Livie in his arms prompted another sly smile.
‘What has you grinning like a fool?’ Dashwood paced the drive in a fluster, his boots sending bits of gravel in every direction. ‘No, wait. Don’t answer that. I suspect I know exactly what has you wearing that expression of satisfaction. How dare you return my sister-in-law in a state of dishabille. Without shoes. Without shoes! All of London might have seen her ankles.’ He took a heaving breath. ‘What happened? Where were the both of you? No matter Esme’s meagre enlightenment, I cannot fathom one explanation to exonerate you returning Livie home half-dressed, strewn across your lap.’ The latter words were spoken in a low, seething growl.
‘Then what is it you’d like to know?’ Penwick prepared to offer him any version of the past twenty-four hours, including the truth. Nothing could keep him from marrying Livie. Not a deranged plotting son-of-a-jeweller, a near-miss pistol shot, and definitely not an angry brother-in-law. ‘I will easily tell you whatever it is you wish to know. But be prepared for the truth, which may surprise you.’
An eerie quiet ensued and Penwick wondered if Dashwood worked through his anger far enough to realise Lavinia had been returned home, happy, safe and all in one piece. In a few beats’ time, Dash seemed to come to some kind of mollification for his frown softened and stance relaxed.
‘I am their protector. It took a great leap of faith for me to recover the earldom and propose marriage to Wilhelmina. Now, as the only male in charge of three very willful females, I refuse to allow anyone or anything to cause them undue harm. Aunt Kate is faring well despite her advanced years. A little hearing loss and a bit of arthritis are her only troubles, but Whimsy and her sister are a handful and my life’s responsibility. Their happiness depends on the choices I make. They’ve experienced more hardship and worry than anyone should, losing their parents at a young age and struggling to survive. I cannot allow you to bring disorder into our home when I’ve worked for over a year to restore normalcy to their lives.’
‘Are you through with your lecture?’ Penwick was weary to the bone, kicked, beaten, invigorated and thoroughly in love, yet he realised with great gravity he needed to clear the air before he’d find any peace. He couldn’t allow Dashwood to carry the wrong impression into the house and, perhaps, draw conclusions that would lead to further conflict. He glanced towards Decorum who’d found a sparse patch of grass that survived the dropping temperatures of late. At least someone had secured a place of relaxation.
‘Yes, I’m through and I’ve made my position clear.’ Dashwood extended his hand. ‘Now that you understand Livie is off limits we have no need for further discussion. Good day.’ He took a step back and pivoted as if to leave.
Penwick viewed him with amused curiosity. Off limits? How preposterous. The woman kept his heart. There would be no living without her. He did not return Dashwood’s attempt at a handshake and dismissal, and instead began to laugh. There was little else to do as he watched the Earl’s furious, retreating form, out of earshot and up into Kirby Park.
‘Are they still arguing?’ Livie soaked in the most divine bath of her lifetime, the water hotter than hot and scented with lavender, her head reclined against the rim while her eyes fluttered closed despite she posed the question to Dinah who stood sentry at the upstairs window. ‘I wonder what is taking so long.’
‘Your earl appears amused. Perhaps that’s a good sign. He’s enjoying a good, long laugh.’ Dinah dropped the curtain and hurried to the tub, gathering a towel along the way and wetting the bar of soap in a nearby bucket of water. ‘They can’t be at odds with him looking so cheerful, can they now?’ She lathered the soap and began. The rub of her fingertips against Livie’s scalp provoked a purr of blissful gratification. ‘So much has occurred in the span of two days.’
Livie smiled a secret smile. Indeed. How soon would she be able to experience Randolph’s kiss? And all the other delights of the hay loft? Her mind replayed a series of tempting suggestions and she shivered despite the heated water.
‘I suppose Esme will visit today. There was an article in the newspaper concerning Mr Horne and Lott’s Majestic. And what of your Penwick’s wedding to Miss Allington? I accidently overheard your sister expressing concern over the predicament. How will the family resolve it all without undue blathering?’ Dinah continued her blissful ministrations, her fingers as lively as the flurry of questions.
Livie sighed, more from contentment than exasperation, but a fair share of unresolved problems still existed. What had happened to the diamond shoe clips that had created chaos from the start? Did Esme give them to Dash? And what of Jonathan Allington? Was he right now plotting some diabolical revenge or had he fled, cognizant he’d angered an earl of frightening intelligence who would easily crush him were he ever to attempt harm again? The man’s plotting was bizarre to say the least. And poor Mr Horne. He’d become a victim within this whole foolish plot. Was he well, recovered? Would Lott’s Majestic Shoe Shop ever reopen?
The whirlpool of questions whipped around her brain until she bolted upright, splashing water over the rim of the tub and startling a shriek from Dinah who still had her fingers tangled in the soapy lengths of Livie’s hair.
‘I must get dressed and remedy the problems I’ve created. It’s the only thing to do. It’s the right thing. Good heavens, Dinah, rinse my hair. Time is of the essence.’ She wiggled her shoulders in an attempt to release her maid’s hold. ‘I’m the only one who can right the wrongs I’ve caused.’
‘Are you sure, miss? I don’t think your sister will be pleased if I help you…’ Concern marked every word.
‘No, don’t think. We have no time for thinking.’ And on that end command, Livie began to solidify her plans.
Chapter Twenty-One
Across town, beyond Paddington and the ruined location of Lott’s Majestic Shoe Shop, away from Clipthorne, on the outskirts of London central, a gentleman of sorts whistled a jovial tune as he packed his cases and readied for travel. He’d owned a pawn shop in the fine city, served as a landlord, valet and groundskeeper, as well as a dance instructor most recently. The bustling city had treated him well for the most part, but it was time now to move on.
Reynard, his corpulent companion, an auburn feline who proved wise beyond his years, leapt atop the smallest suitcase as if to prove he could balance despite his podgy stature. He yowled with pleasure at accomplishing the feat and then settled in a furry heap to claim the location as his alone.
‘It’s time for us to depart, my friend.’ Moira, as he was known to very few, clicked the last lock on the trunk near his feet. ‘The charm bracelet has found its way home with hardly any assistance from us. We’ve instigated yet another successful adventure, but alas, we are no longer needed here. London has treated us well, but other cities wait for us with diligent patience.’ He paused and eyed Reynard who remained motionless on his perch. ‘Unless you would rather I leave you behind?’
Again the cat yowled, rising with an energetic spring that belied its girth, before it bounded from the tower of luggage and leapt into Moira’s open arms.
‘Foolish friend, we will always need each other. No reason to worry, Reynard.’ Allowing the cat freedom, he watched as the feline settled near his feet in an indolent pose that expressed he was in no such hurry as his master.
Moira walked to a leather valise resting on the mattress, the only remaining bag to be completed. He removed a shiny brass chatelaine from a silky pouch and held the large ring towards the window, sunlight poking through every crease and crevice to outline the five keys dangling from the loop. With a slight smile, he gave the ring a shake, the clink of the keys as they struck each other evoking a chuckle before he replaced it inside the pouch. ‘So many possibilities await.’ This time he spoke more to himself than the cat, who seemed content in his complaisant recline.
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bsp; Next he opened a brown, weathered purse, the weight of the three coins inside transferred to his waiting palm where the cool gold met his warm caress. Luck, love and fortune – each coin depicted a symbolic engraving which portrayed these fates. ‘What more could a man need, Reynard?’ The tabby twitched in response and Moira dropped the coins into the purse, tucking it into the valise beside the chatelaine. He buttoned the compartments closed and then fastened the top of the valise.
‘It’s time to depart. Get in your basket, my friend.’ He tsked an affectionate sound and advanced to the window to part the curtains. He glanced down to the circular drive of the inn where his barouche was tethered to an iron post. At the front, his team, a pair of snow-white stallions, stood at attention in imperturbable wait for him to take up the ribbons.
Without another word, he collected Reynard and gathered his precious belongings. Love awaited and he couldn’t spare another moment of dalliance.
Randolph apprised Strickler of the most recent happenings in an attempt to assuage the valet’s horror as he returned home, bedraggled, and in more resemblance to a scoundrel than a peer. Several long, silent minutes ticked past while the valet absorbed the impact of his master’s appearance. At last, after swallowing what could only be sheer disappointment, the servant spoke.
‘Your waistcoat, milord, was sewn from imported silk, the finest threads available in France.’
How distraught the man sounded.
‘Yes.’ Perhaps Strickler needed more time to recover from the impact of such disassembly.
‘The buttons on your left cuff are gone, milord. They were white oyster and specially commissioned, engraved with the family crest.’ Strickler’s melancholic utterance faded to nothing more than a forlorn whisper in the empty foyer.
‘I am aware.’ What could he say to improve the situation? ‘We shall order more, dozens, with haste. And if the silk was to your liking you have my leave to commission several more pieces for my wardrobe to replace and supplement the ruined items.’
‘I shan’t be able to salvage your Hessians.’ The valet appeared on the verge of tears.
‘I’ve another four pair.’ He needed to buoy the devoted man’s spirits somehow. ‘And these’ – he cast a dismissing glance downward at his boots, irreparably stained and creased – ‘pinched my toes.’
This seemed to mollify Strickler who slowly recovered his sense of service.
‘A hot bath and warm brandy at once then, milord.’ A bright spark of hope lit the valet’s eyes.
‘As usual, Strickler, you’ve read my mind.’ Penwick took the stairs, his boots pounding the treads in his hurry. ‘I will need to make arrangements for the wedding.’
‘The wedding, milord? I thought… from what you told me…’ Again the servant stuttered to comprehend. The question hung in the air, suspended, as if oblivious to how everything had come crashing down. ‘You’ve had a change of heart?’
‘I’ve had a change of bride.’ Penwick reached the landing and tossed a satisfied grin over his shoulder, certain he would destroy Strickler’s stoic demeanour if he didn’t lighten the mood. He caught the newel post and pivoted, the pulse of anticipation brought on by the admittance invigorating to say the least. ‘And to lay rest to your extended enquiry, to Claire my heart was never involved. Duty would be a better label. Much has changed in a short period of time.’ He’d all but reached his bedchamber doors, his valet chasing his wake. ‘If further explanation is necessary, I’ll elucidate after my bath.’
‘Every time I turn around you’re running off somewhere. I doubt this is what Dr Morris intended when he said you’d be back on your feet and kicking up your heels.’ Wilhelmina rushed after Livie as she left the drawing room to meet Dinah in the front foyer.
‘I’m only going to Esme’s house. Would you like to join me?’ She didn’t wait for her sister to reply or object, but continued talking with a sense of urgency which likely goaded her sister. ‘I have to see for myself that my dearest friend is well. I placed her in danger with my foolish actions and I’ll never forgive my selfish choices if she has suffered in any manner. Now that Dash has the shoe clips and will seek out a resolution on my behalf, I need only to achieve this one last task before dedicating my time to wedding plans.’ With hope, she would distract Whimsy with the talk of her upcoming marriage. Her sister did enjoy party planning. Of course, nothing had been formalised as of yet. She hadn’t spoken to Dash since he confronted Randolph this morning, but after what they’d both experienced and overcome, she couldn’t imagine anything else standing in their way of a happy future.
‘Take at least two footmen with you. And what do you mean, upcoming wedding? Things are happening too fast for my comfort. I’ve never even met the Earl of Penwick other than when he rode up our drive and returned you in complete dishevel.’
Wilhelmina stopped her chase and stood, hands on hips, imploring Livie to take heed, and she did so. She knew in her heart every chastising word and snippet of superfluous advice came from a sincere place of concern. ‘You will adore the Earl of Penwick, Whimsy. He is a very good man and I believe I’ve known him my entire life. First as a wish, then as a friend, and now… well, I’ve already said enough.’ She smiled a grin so large her ears moved.
‘Lavinia.’
With slow, careful steps, Whimsy approached and Livie almost laughed. Her sister couldn’t possibly believe she would bolt out the front door in the middle of their conversation. ‘I will be fine, and yes, I’ll take extra footmen along with my maid. Now please, allow me to leave so I can return all the sooner.’
Esme greeted Livie and Dinah at the door and they fell into a frenzied conversation over tea and poppyseed cakes, where Livie retold the more overt concurrences since being abducted in the alley, mindful to omit the more intimate. While Esme was her closest confidante and truest friend, some things weren’t meant to be shared, the specialty of being the sole person to cherish the secret reward in itself.
Instead, when they finished their refreshment, they decided Esme would fetch a full basket from the kitchen and they’d walk around the block to visit Mr Horne who resided in a nearby apartment on Crowning Street, the food a gesture of hospitality and warm wishes. They donned their wool shawls, wrapped tightly to guard against a chill, and set out.
With any luck, they’d be able to leave their gift of good tiding with the housekeeper who would in turn tell Mr Horne of their visit. Livie hoped to learn when the shop would reopen and perhaps alleviate a smidgeon of the guilt which had burdened her heart, since the obvious conclusion implicated her possession of the shoe clips as having instigated the trouble Mr Horne had experienced. She hoped he wasn’t ailing too terribly, although she feared the worst.
They stepped lively as the weather was brisk, and were poised to cross the last thoroughfare and approach Mr Horne’s address when a crack of a whip and clatter of hooves drew their attention in the opposite direction. Making way down the roadway was the same magnificent barouche and team they’d spied when waiting for ices at Gunter’s not that long ago. This time due to their proximity to the curb, they could easily see the driver on the box, who tipped his stout derby in their direction.
‘I believe that was my dance instructor.’ Livie’s statement laced with incredibility as if she herself could not believe it true.
‘Could that be possible? I’ve never seen a finer assemblage and those horses look like something from the pages of a fairy tale.’ Esme’s voice held a fascinated quality.
‘It’s difficult to mistake his moustache. Did you take note?’ Livie pursed her lips and twisted her fingertips near the corners of her mouth to mimic the outlandish facial hair.
‘Yes.’ Esme gave a little nod and laugh. ‘I did.’
They stalled no longer, the confusing image of the elegant barouche not enough to deter their mission. When they arrived with their offering, the kind woman at the door insisted they enter as Mr Horne lacked company and would welcome the diversion of such lovely companio
nship. Dinah trailed behind as they followed down a narrow hall and settled in a modest salon decorated in a pale shade of green accented with persimmon and amber. It would appear Mr Horne had a critical eye for colour to meld with his discerning taste. No wonder his footwear designs were impeccable.
The room was lined with large mahogany bookcases filled with an eclectic mix of objects and leather-bound books. Furniture was limited to seating and a delightful refreshment table crowned with a curved edge and scroll design above the lathe-turned legs. Lying across the back of the sofa was a thick blanket trimmed in coffee-brown, which immediately brought to mind the skating boots Livie had envisioned gracing her feet as she sailed across the frozen Serpentine. How much simpler life had seemed before that morning when she’d found the charm bracelet and discovered the Earl. A shot of excitement accompanied her remembrance. Soon she would have many recollections of staring into his decadent brown eyes. She’d meet each day heart-warmed from Penwick’s embrace.
She removed her shawl and placed it over the arm of the chair, suspecting it was her adoration for Randolph heating her from the inside out more so than the cosy fire in the nearby hearth.
‘I hope he is happy to receive us. The housekeeper persisted, but if Mr Horne is truly ailing, I doubt he wants two ladies pestering him this afternoon.’ Esme leaned close, her expression one of concern.
‘We will keep our visit short.’ Livie patted her friend’s arm to emphasise her intention. ‘But I must apologise and plead for his forgiveness. I would never be able to live with myself otherwise.’
Mr Horne entered as Livie finished her declaration. He appeared a trifle gaunt, likely having lost weight from the ordeal, but otherwise seemed genuinely pleased to see them both.
‘Aren’t I the lucky one to receive unexpected and lovely visitors today?’ He greeted them with a grand smile and took a seat. ‘I’ve been anxious to speak to you especially, Miss Montgomery.’
His Forbidden Debutante Page 21