Livie’s brows rose with curiosity. ‘With me?’ She swallowed trepidation as a flush of guilt and abject shame caused her cheeks to heat. How foolish to believe she would escape a sound tongue-thrashing since she’d brought such misery into the shopkeeper’s life.
‘Yes, I hoped to visit you once I recovered completely, but now you have saved me the trouble and offered me the opportunity all the sooner. I need to extend my gratitude. Had you not encountered the diamond shoe clips, I would never have become aware a smuggler used my shop for his theft of stolen gemstones. While I recovered from the incident, I hired an investigator who revealed Lott’s Majestic was unwittingly involved in a chain of transport for purloined diamonds. I won’t bore you with the intricacies of the perfidy. Information such as that is not congenial feminine conversation.’ Mr Horne smiled again and adjusted his position in the chair. ‘Needless to say, the investigation is ongoing, but with the shop closed and in wait of remodelling, I’ve time to take inventory of how things progressed. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘But Mr Horne, I should have returned the clips promptly. Instead I kept them for almost a week and instigated the confrontation which led to your injuries. For that, I am truly sorry.’ She shook her head with despair. ‘I hope you can find the kindness to forgive me.’
‘No apology is necessary when it is I who needs to thank you. I’ve meant to expand for some time now. This series of events, while unfortunate, also permits the opportunity to remodel. For that I am thankful. But there is more.’ He paused and raised his hand as if to ward off any interruption. ‘I hope you will accept a token of my gratitude. Whenever you need shoes, Miss Montgomery, please know you have the pick of my shop, free of charge, however often you wish.’
A dizzying sensation swirled through Livie at Mr Horne’s outrageous offer, but truly, she couldn’t accept, no matter how tempting. And such a grand gesture was indeed tempting. ‘Thank you, but your offer is far too generous.’ She watched as his expression faltered, a shadow of disappointment clouding his eyes. ‘Although I would ask a favour, if you have the time...’
Mr Horne nodded, listening with keen interest.
‘I’ve dreamed of the most darling skating boots.’
He barely allowed her to finish. ‘Time? Yes. I’ve plenty of that now.’
‘Mr Horne?’ Esme’s gentle voice eased into the conversation. ‘How are you feeling? When we saw the shop’s door locked and the interior in dreadful disarray, we didn’t know what to think.’
‘Ladies, please, do not fuss. I’m fine. A few bruises, nothing more.’ He straightened his shoulders as if to prove his claim. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve spent time sketching a whole new line for the spring. If you’d like to humour an old man, I would enjoy showing you a few of my designs. A woman’s input might add the perfect touch to the selections.’ His solicitous attitude was contagious.
Livie eyed Esme with a broad grin. ‘We would be honoured.’ She squeezed Esme’s arm to expend some of her excitement.
Mr Horne summoned his housekeeper who returned with a broad folder and large sketch pad. Once he revealed the first few slipper designs, ideas were flowing with enthusiasm, Livie and Esme enthralled to be part of the process. And the shoemaker couldn’t have been more delighted. With a gleam in his eyes, he set to work and pencilled notes with a flourish, one particular design dedicated to a pair of elegant ice-skate boots.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Strickler.’ Randolph summoned his valet with authority. ‘I prefer the charcoal superfine today with my black Hessians, the formal pair with the tassels.’ He buttoned his tight-fitted breeches and considered his reflection in the cheval glass. When Strickler appeared behind, Randolph turned and completed dress with ease, no longer impatient with the buttons at his cuffs or intricate folds required for his cravat. Wishing to appear as handsome and impeccably assembled as possible, outside and in, he’d already deposited one of Livie’s letters into his breast pocket. He weighed this consideration as he evaluated his image in the mirror. ‘Something’s missing.’ The murmur brought Strickler to his side.
As if reading his mind, Strickler offered his rapier forward.
‘We could easily adjust your attire, milord. You do wish to appear the dashing gentleman, do you not?’
‘Indeed, Strickler. Indeed.’ He regarded his reflection. One didn’t propose marriage to the woman of one’s dreams and keeper of one’s heart with the appearance of a commonplace gentleman. He was an earl, by the devil, and he’d look every bit the part. ‘Have Viceroy brought round to the front.’ He nodded his approval at the addition of his sword. ‘Today, I wish to ride.’
He would travel first to Allington’s place of business, extend his apologies to Bertram and discuss the situation which had transpired only two days past. He hadn’t heard from Bertram and the silence was unnerving. Further, he had no notion of what Jonathan may have reported to the old man or what action had been taken. Jonathan would never confess his cupidity and the idle consideration that the blackguard may have painted Penwick as the culprit scratched at his sense of character.
Whatever it may be, he would face it with dignity and aplomb until it reached resolution, and then afterward he would continue to Kirby Park and confront Dashwood to conquer the concerned brother-in-law’s protective opposition. The work and waiting would be time-consuming and tedious, but this all mattered little, the prize worth the effort.
That prize – the goal, of course, to propose marriage to Lavinia and hold her in his arms before the end of day.
Traffic proved sparse, or perhaps, he revelled in the normalcy of having Viceroy lead him through the streets unencumbered by his former surly ambivalence towards his title and planned future, so much so he didn’t notice the clog of carriages or groups of pedestrians crowding the sidewalks.
He approached Allington Diamonds, dismounted, quick to flip a coin to a waiting lad who took hold of Viceroy’s reins for safekeeping. Then he entered the store, surprised to see Dashwood at the back counter where he and Bertram Allington addressed something displayed on the counter, their expressions grave.
‘Gentlemen.’ He greeted them as he approached, offering them the opportunity to curtail any conversation they preferred he didn’t overhear.
‘Penwick.’ Dashwood’s face registered genuine surprise as he glanced over his shoulder.
‘I expected your visit.’ Allington’s tone encompassed a world of emotion, the most prominent being disappointment. ‘Although the circumstances sadden me.’
‘I do not mean to interrupt although I need speak to you both as it so happens.’ Penwick shook each extended hand and the threesome endured a beat of silence after his initial statement. Undaunted, he forged on. ‘Dashwood may as well hear what I have to say as I suspect it affects the subject which otherwise brought him here this morning.’ His gaze fell to the diamond shoe clips placed on a velvet board atop the glass counter.
Allington followed the path of the implication. ‘These shoe clips were to be your wedding gift to Claire. I wanted to place the world at her feet. What better way than marriage to an earl and the finest diamonds ever created on her slippers? But as you already know, my son had committed me a grave disservice. Not only did he waylay the delivery of this shipment, but he’s stolen from our family business for longer than even I can account. By integrating his theft into the natural distribution of our products, he managed to deceive me for a very long time.’ Allington’s voice dropped low. ‘Our relationship is complicated, but I always treated him as a true son. In turn he has shown me dishonour and shame.’
Dashwood darted his eyes to Penwick at the admittance, but remained silent.
‘It matters little now. I pray you can accept my apologies for his behaviour. I am sending Claire and Jonathan on an extended trip abroad. It will help absolve the scandal and abjured gossip sure to follow the broken engagement as well as prevent me from thrashing Jonathan with all the anger I possess at the moment. They leave tomorrow mor
ning, although I wish I could have secured them passage more efficiently. My son is volatile at present, and I fear not thinking clearly.’
‘I understand.’ It seemed the right thing to say. Bertram was a victim in the scheme, his family business compromised. ‘Jonathan drugged, assaulted and locked me in the stable at Clipthorne. Were you aware?’ Penwick straightened his shoulders, his height and broad presence useful when in need of intimidation. ‘Had he harmed Miss Montgomery, who he hired thugs to abduct, or had he better aim with his pistol as we escaped his crazed capture, we would not be having this congenial conversation. The lot of you would be wearing prison uniforms as you were transported to Newgate.’ He ended on a strong note of objection.
Dashwood emitted a sound of approval, his brows raised.
‘You will not harm my reputation among your peers?’ Bertram’s face revealed abject misery, his words spoken with raw emotion and it was no wonder. The man’s prosperity was dependent on his status among well-born society. He had lost almost everything: his plans for a loftier status, his daughter’s good standing and his albeit illegitimate son’s loyalty, trust and companionship. In the end, he was left with his diamonds and that alone would have to be enough.
‘I have little more to say, Allington, my patience worn thin, although…’ Penwick paused to drive home his point. ‘I expect never to find trouble in this sector again. Not a rude word uttered nor a backward glance. My intended is a diamond of the first water. A gem beyond compare. Let that be a lesson that true happiness cannot be bought or found, but must be cultivated from the heart.’
He hadn’t planned on spouting such poetic sentiments, but likewise discovered since staring into Livie’s brilliant blue eyes, emotions seemed more easily flowing and definitely more relevant.
‘Well stated, Penwick. I couldn’t agree more.’ Dashwood smiled, though his grin held a small degree of scepticism. ‘Welcome to the family.’
The last bit, Dash’s unmitigated acceptance, wiped away any lingering solicitude.
‘Then I believe I have a visit to make and a question to ask.’ He canted a nod as he stepped away. ‘Gentlemen, I will leave you to resume your conversation.’ He made way to the street, his legs unable to carry him quickly enough.
He grinned as he mounted and flipped the waiting boy near the curb a handful of crowns, no matter it was more than the lad would earn in a year. His heart thumped a delirious beat, the road to Kirby Park too long, though he made excellent time as he galloped at top speed. Soon he would kiss Livie, hold his bespectacled beauty against his heart, where she belonged, where he would cherish her for a long, wonderful life together.
He’d propose on one knee, in the grand style she deserved, with earnest emotion and fluent expression of every ardent passion he’d reserved since reading her first wayward letter. He wanted to laugh like a fool for the path of his reverie. For who would ever have expected such an unheralded turn of events. How he loved her. And now, he was nearly there. He could see the tips of the regal wrought-iron gate as he approached the long gravel drive leading to Kirby Park. Quite a different approach than yesterday morning.
Anticipation pumped hard in his veins and he dropped the reins to touch his fingers to his breast pocket, the letter safe against the life-beat of his soul.
The gunshot took him by surprise.
It ripped through his left shoulder from behind, daring his heart to stop, exiting the front of his superfine coat in a powerful break for freedom.
He shook his head, confused as he glanced to his chest where a spreading stain of red consumed his white linen shirt… the letter, trapped between layers of cloth and emotion, absorbed his blood. He grappled for the reins where he’d dropped them against Viceroy’s neck, but his hands wouldn’t obey, unable to find the leathers while his horse galloped at top speed, and he followed in fast descent to the dirt road below.
Lavinia couldn’t stand still for the waiting. She’d returned from her visit with Esme and Mr Horne with a singular thought. Randolph would visit today. She glanced to the glass-domed clock on the dresser, counting time beside the rosewood box where the letters remained, watching as the hour hand slid into position over the twelve, the soft chime marking noon, until the discordant report of a pistol punctured her quiet.
She ran to the window, unable to see anything worth viewing, and instead made for her bedchamber door. She met Whimsy and Aunt Kate in the hallway, their concerned expressions equal to her own.
‘Where is Dash?’ Wilhelmina’s tight voice echoed. ‘Has he returned yet? Has anyone seen him?’
‘It could be a hunter.’ Aunt Kate struggled for any placating suggestion to calm immediate panic. ‘The woods behind the house are rich with wildlife.’
‘There’s no pouching on Kirby Park land.’ Wilhelmina’s reply sounded frantic. ‘It sounded as though the shot came from the front of the house.’ Worry creased her face and her eyes narrowed.
The threesome filed down the staircase as quickly as possible, though the front windows lent little explanation to the sound.
‘I can’t imagine who would fire a gun so close to our home for no reason.’ Wilhelmina released a long exhale, as if forcing her nerves to calm by expelling the breath she held without relief.
Livie shivered, the memory of Jonathan Allington’s deranged attack too recent to be forgotten. ‘Oh, dear.’ Conclusions slid into place with a helpful shove from fear and panic. ‘What if someone has harmed Randolph? What if Allington waited, knowing he would come here? What if… ’ Her words ran out while her feet kicked into motion. ‘I have to go see. I can’t stay here.’
She rushed to the front door and out onto the gravel drive. It was nearly five hundred yards to the gate, but she ran, heedless of the distance or the biting wind that chafed her face. Her hair whipped in tandem to her skirts, and she had to hold her spectacles in place, but she continued, arms thrashing as if to beat back her fear.
Each of her senses preceded sight and she felt, heard the demanding pound of hooves before Dashwood appeared atop his mount with something, no, someone slung across the saddle. With the distance separating them, the indeterminate lifeless form could have been a satchel or bundle of fabric, until she discerned the outline of black boots. She stopped in her tracks, and so stopped her heart. She recognised Randolph’s limp figure, and she remained frozen as Dashwood galloped past, afraid to turn around and comprehend what had occurred.
Later, after Aunt Kate retrieved her, forced her, from the drive and deposited her in her bedchamber, after the doctor had been summoned and set to work attending Randolph’s wound, and after many tears had been shed, Livie sat on the edge of her mattress and stared out the window, the stars too bright for such a dismal, fearful evening. So much had happened in a short span, her heart and head existed in less than companionable rhythm.
Three times now, Randolph had been given to her only to be taken away. She thought about their waltz, shared dance at the masquerade and lovemaking in the loft. She recalled his sensual whisper in her ear and low, rumbling laughter when she’d confessed how many pairs of slippers she owned. She visualised his smile, the deep cleft in his upper lip that made her heart flutter in anxious want of kisses, and the smooth, hard muscles of his chest. She remembered his solemn concern over the heart problems inherent to males in his family line and how she wished to reassure him of their long, happy life ahead. Each memory brought with it myriad emotions.
There wasn’t anything to do but wait. Yet waiting seemed the cruellest torture.
A creak in the hallway signalled someone approached. She slue her eyes to the doorway as the panel cracked a few inches. Wilhelmina peeked inside.
‘Do you care for company?’
Her sister’s consoling whisper was a soothing balm.
‘Yes.’
‘I have good news.’ Wilhelmina entered and settled beside her on the mattress. ‘The doctor has repaired your Earl. As long as he doesn’t develop a fever and no infection sets in, we will be
planning a wedding celebration in the very near future.’
Livie drew a shuddering breath, somewhat afraid to accept the news. ‘May I see him?’
‘Why don’t you wait for morning?’ Wilhelmina placed her hand atop her sister’s. ‘That way you have a better chance of having a conversation when Randolph awakes after a full night’s sleep. The doctor wanted to give him laudanum, but your Earl had a strong aversion to the idea. He drank brandy and gritted his teeth whenever he was conscious and enduring the pain. You have found yourself a very strong husband. Dashwood tells me he’s sleeping now.’ She smiled as she matched Livie’s eyes. ‘Wait until morning to be sure he gets the rest he needs.’
Livie shook her head in agreement though she wasn’t truly listening. She had found the man of her dreams and nothing was going to keep her out of the guestroom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was well past midnight when Livie was convinced everyone had entered a sound sleep. She only wished to see Randolph, not disturb him. Somehow her eyes needed to convince her brain he was all in one piece, safely tucked into the guest chamber located four doors down from her own.
Donning her wrapper over her night-rail, she crept on bare feet to ensure she’d move as quietly as possible through the hallway. It wasn’t as though she could sleep anyway. Her mind spun with a hundred and one worries and they’d only be put to rest once she saw Randolph and touched her lips to his cheek.
She moved past Aunt Kate’s room confident she would never be detected, her aunt’s hearing loss convenient to secure a fitful rest no matter the disturbance. Her sister and Dash were another story altogether, often awake into the wee hours, but luckily she would not need to pass their bedchamber as the master suites were located at a distance on the other side of the third floor.
Her heart thundered with a mixture of anticipation and excitement when she finally reached the guestroom where Randolph slept. Turning the knob, she entered the dim room lit by a few bedside lanterns and the low-burning fire in the grate. A pitcher of water had been left on the bedside table along with a drinking glass and two clean hand towels. Otherwise the room remained sparse. Slinking nearer the bed, she moved around the curtained post and approached Randolph’s sleeping form.
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