by Linda Wright
James stood up with the other men and managed to get another wink as he caught his Penny’s eye before she left for the Drawing room with the other ladies. The luxurious throbbing demanded he follow, but his host, Lord Llewellyn, beckoned. “Lucky. Come have a drink and tell me more about this wager. What ever did you do to dissuade old Prissy from dragging you to the altar?”
“I made myself thoroughly disgusting. I could barely stand myself.”
Strathmore gave the man sitting in the chair next to James a look and the man fled. The Duke sat down and offered his glass for filling. “So tell us Pinhead, what exactly did you do to frighten off that pretty penniless bird desperate for a perch?”
James turned to find Strathmore’s sneer three inches away. “She’s obviously not desperate enough to perch on you.” Snickers of laughter were silenced by a look from the Duke. “She’s not penniless either; she has a two thousand pound annuity that begins the day she weds. She’d probably have married years ago, but she has this silly notion that she’s bad luck. It’s rubbish of course. Luck is all about perspective.”
Strathmore raised a single eyebrow. “You’re quite a sage Pinhead. Have you any other advice for us regular headed mortals?”
“Keep addressing me as Pinhead and I may pin you to the floor.” The other men in the room watched wide eyed as Strathmore smiled as if amused.
“You must be what, twenty-two? No wonder Miss Morgan turned you down boy. No woman wants to wipe her babe’s bottom and then turn to wipe her husband’s nose.”
“You know I’m twenty-six.”
“Do I?”
“How old were you when you married Strathmore; twenty? Did your wife ever wipe your nose?” Even Lord Llewellyn blanched as James mentioned the unmentionable subject. Strathmore’s wife had died in childbed less than a year after their marriage. It was rumoured he’d killed several men for slighting her memory. It was known he’d pummelled half a dozen for the same offence.
“You are a pinhead.” The words were almost a sigh of exasperation.
“Your opinion means nothing to me Sir. Now if you’ll excuse me I wish to join the ladies…”
“I’m sure Llewellyn could find you a dress…”
James curled his lip in disdain as he unconsciously cracked his knuckles. “You wear it Strathmore. With your willowy figure you’ll look just like one of your sisters, but you might want to shave first or that black shadow will give you away.”
Strathmore raised a weary eyebrow. “I hope you’re writing these down Pinhead. It won’t be long before you’ve squeezed the last witty retort from your tiny brain. Whatever will you do? Personally, I recommend you buy a monkey to sit on your shoulder and throw peanuts at me. Now that would be entertaining. Over time it might become your friend and if you’re really lucky it might even marry you.”
“Strathmore, you amaze me…I find this conversation even more ennui than our last one. Perhaps we could avoid speaking unless you plan to kill me with boredom. Be so good as to wait until I too have a son. It would only be faire. Gentlemen.” Bowing politely James escaped into the drawing room, but Lady Sophia had sent her companion up to bed. Aching with anxiety at being unable to speak with Penny and accomplish the reason for his attendance, James found himself turning endless pages of music for a dim beauty asked to play the pianoforte. Luckily he wasn’t expected to talk. His body was trapped, but his mind was free to return to his favourite subject. Was Penny sleeping? Was she thinking of him? Would she think his need to count things made him unsuitable husband material? The thought caused a crippling wave of anxiety. The wave passed in time to turn the page. James couldn’t understand why other people didn’t need to count things or arrange objects in precise geometry, it was completely normal to him. Why would he throw a handful of pins in the street for ten thousand pounds? He didn’t need ten thousand pounds, besides Mulgrave was kept on a short financial leash by his mother. He wouldn’t have been able to pay the money anyway and that would have been a waste of pins. Besides, knowing how many pins he had ensured he’d be able to use them more efficiently; counting things was perfectly sensible. The fact Strathmore and his ilk couldn’t understand it proved them insensible.
James hoped it wouldn’t take long to persuade Penny to become his Countess. The luxurious throbbing was maddening; if he didn’t hold her in his arms soon he would end up in Bedlam. His third proposal might have been rejected, but he had high hopes for his fourth. He’d ensure it was private and convincing. His wandering thoughts momentarily returned to the present. Looking around he found Strathmore staring at him with a look of hatred that made James wish he had a loaded pistol in his pocket. Rebuked for not turning the page in time, James was luckily given an excuse to turn his back on the Duke as he imagined the man marrying a monkey. The dim beauty singing as she played the piano thought James’s smile was for her. She filled her lungs and stretched her skills to sing her best in hopes of attaching his affections. James used the pleasant interlude to formulate his plans for winning his wager. Fed, watered, and inspired; James couldn’t wait to go to bed so he could get up in the morning and pay a call on the woman upstairs. After weeks of grim grey monotony, life was once again painted in a livid rainbow of colour. Everything was going to work out; it always did.
Chapter 8
Hunched over her thread and needle, Elizabeth was carefully stitching a bright green ribbon to the crown of a yellow straw bonnet when her heart shuddered in delight. Lifting her head she quickly translated the cheerful noise in the next room into Lord Devonshire greeting her cousin. Distracted from her needle, she stabbed her finger. Blinking back tears of irritation, she sucked her bleeding finger as she eyed three stacks of hatboxes and two baskets of ribbons. It was going to take her hours to complete her assigned task and until she finished she was banished from the drawing room. She glared at the connecting door left ajar by her cousin and wondered if Lord Devonshire really intended to repeat his offer. If the man was going to bathe and change his smalls every other day, being Devonshire’s wife would be immeasurably more pleasant than being her cousin’s skivvy. She shivered as she remembered the man’s electric fingers. Another painful jab of her needle brought her painfully back to her senses in time to hear Lord Devonshire politely ask after her. Biting her wounded finger, Elizabeth froze as she strained to hear the conversation. “…is she poorly?”
“The ingrate is sewing in the next room.”
“What? Through there?”
“Yes, I fear Strathmore’s whimsical offer has swollen her head. She must learn her proper place.”
“Strathmore has that affect on women; he probably did it for a wager.”
“Why else would the Duke of Strathmore offer for Elizabeth? Why would any man offer for her? The creature is hardly the sort you’d want to chain to your table let alone your bed. She was unaccountably rude to Lord Llewellyn at breakfast this morning. He politely asked her to sit next to him and do you know what she did?”
“No. What?”
“She ignored his repeated request and pointedly sat at the other end of the table. She does not appreciate how lucky she is that we’ve taken her in. She’ll do as she’s told or she won’t be sitting at my table again.”
“That was rather rude, but perhaps she had a reason.”
“I think she’s sulking. I think she’s still in love with Llewellyn. She’s jealous he didn’t ask her to marry him. She thinks I stole her suitor as if a man would marry Elizabeth when he could have me. She’ll learn to be polite to my husband. No one else in the family wanted to be saddled with her bad luck. My Lord Llewellyn says superstitions are silly. He kindly insisted she come stay with us. Who else would have been so thoughtful? She’s a silly old cow who needs to realise that Lords don’t marry so far beneath them as Elizabeth.”
“She could have married me…”
“You had a lucky escape my Lord.”
“I think it had more to do with the fact I smelled like something you pay the night soil c
ollector to cart away…she might be able to hear that I’ve come to call. It would be rude of me not to present myself. If you’ll excuse me a moment…”
Elizabeth quickly straightened her white cap and smoothed her apron over her skirts. As she concentrated on making a stitch the door swung inwards pulling her heart towards the handsome man with smiling brown eyes. On reaching her side he silently pointed his thumb in the direction of the door and made a face as he put two fingers either side of his forehead indicating that Lady Sophia had horns. Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud and felt her eyes fill with tears. He was good and kind; she should have accepted his third offer. The sight of her tears appeared to discompose him. He whipped out a handkerchief as he droned in a loud monotonous tone, “Good Morning Miss Penny…” He gently wiped her eyes and whispered fervently, “I missed you last night after dinner. I think your horrid cousin is trying to keep us apart. She forced me to turn music for one of the dim beauties who sat next to me at table.” And then back in the booming bored tone, “You slept well?” He kissed the corner of the handkerchief holding her tears and carefully tucked it into his waistcoat near his heart.
“Yes thank you; and yourself?”
In the booming bored drawl Jamess replied, “Yes…like a Lord in the House of Lords…” His voice dropped back to the fervent whisper. “I woke up with indigestion after an eternal nightmare that you’d married Strathmore. If you knew how much I missed you this morning…” His voice returned to the booming bored tone, “Fine day for sewing what? Those clouds look rather unsettled. I’d wager my hat it’ll rain sometime today.” And in a whisper, “You don’t regret refusing Strathmore, do you?”
She shook her head no, “That’s what rain clouds do my Lord; rain.”
Devonshire’s smile widened. “Well that’s a relief. Imagine the shock if rain clouds spat out pennies. I don’t think I’d want to have pennies dashing at me from the skies…” He gave a wink before whispering, “Fall into my arms and I’ll happily make you the crowning penny of my collection.” He pulled a small paper wrapped object from his coat pocket and thrust it at her. “You’re not very talkative this morning Miss Penny…I suppose you’ll open up later when you’re all alone?” He ogled the packet and winked again.
“Why would I open up when I’m alone?” She slid the packet deep into her inner pocket. “Your mind sounds full of cobwebs my Lord. A long walk in the bracing wind might do you good.”
“It’ll certainly benefit my hatter. Do you know what I fancy doing?”
“No my Lord. What do you fancy?”
“I think I fancy some shopping…” His voice dropped to a whisper, “…and tasting your lips. May I kiss you? I don’t smell…I don’t think…”
“I didn’t think men enjoyed shopping.”
“It depends on the shopping Miss Penny; there’s a shop that sells magnifying glasses that I used to enjoy patronising.”
“Do you have many magnifying glasses my Lord?”
“I have ninety; I tried to stop at seventy-seven, but every time I opened the drawer to use one that number, seventy-seven, would irritate me. It’s not a satisfying number when associated with magnifying glasses; though to be honest I’ve never liked that number. Ninety is the right number. I’m quite pleased with my collection. They all fit exactly into three drawers.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, “Do you often find certain numbers unsatisfying?”
“Yes. Even before I knew my numbers if things didn’t look right I found it very upsetting. When I was three I woke up one morning to find one my toy soldiers had disappeared from the window ledge. I was exceedingly upset; who could possibly find eleven toy soldiers satisfying? It jars the soul. The first time I had breakfast with my parents and my three older sisters, I was six. Our Uncle was visiting so there were seven occupied chairs at the table. I couldn’t eat until Mother had one of the maids sit down to make eight. Once I learned my numbers I understood that some numbers are simply unsatisfying.”
“What will you do if your wife has a dissatisfying number of children?”
“I’ll adopt, after endeavouring to give her a satisfying number of babes.”
His slow wink made her heart shudder with pleasure. It was time to change the subject before her face caught fire. “I’ve never owned a magnifying glass.”
“Really? I’ll buy you one…no I’ll buy you three. Everyone should have at least one magnifying glass; they open up the world. It gives me great pleasure to view things closely.” He put his hands on the arm of her wingback chair and leaned towards her. Elizabeth glanced at the door and back into the brown eyes. “Have you ever looked at a human eye through a magnifying glass? It’s utterly fascinating…” His eyes were so close she could see golden yellow rings around his pupils. They looked like chocolate pudding drizzled with custard. She licked her lips as he held her gaze. The hairs on her neck stood up as electric fingers approached. Flinching in shock at the charged caress, the fingers froze as chocolate eyes searched her face for permission to take further liberties. Relaxing, she allowed her throat to be lightly caressed. Tipping back her head, the fingers found more skin to explore. The straw hat rolled off her lap onto the floor as electric lips thoroughly claimed ownership of her senses. The hungry kiss was reluctantly paused, her lower lip held captive. The light tension warned her ears to hear what he’d heard. Another visitor was being announced. Her unspoken wish for another kiss was granted leaving her breathless. Electric fingers caressed her throat one last time before they withdrew. It was several long seconds before she realised the loud thumping was her heart and the rhythmic glint in the corner of her eye were the silver pins holding up her apron front as her lungs begged for air. “You’ve dropped your hat Miss Penny. Am I boring you?”
She bent over and reclaimed her sewing, holding the hat to her chest as if it could protect her from temptation. “No my Lord…” His face lit up with a triumphant smile as he put a hand on his hip.
“Well I must say it’s always a pleasure to see you Miss Penny, but today has been a particular pleasure…perhaps I may be allowed to repeat it in the not too distant future?”
“That would be most agreeable…” Blushing, she glanced up from under her lashes. “…my Lord.” Her earlobe was tweaked and her cheek lightly caressed before his hands were banished behind his back.
“I feel like the luckiest man in the world Miss Penny. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Life keeps offering up the most exquisite reasons to go on living…” His voice dropped back to a whisper as his brown eyes warmed with enthusiasm. “That was the most delicious kiss. I want to kidnap you today, but I fear those blasted bonnets will keep you from getting any air. I’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow.”
“I’m glad life is kind to you my Lord.”
“Life wants to be kind to you too Miss Penny. Happiness often comes when you least expect it.”
“Not everyone is so lucky.”
“Rubbish. No one has doom printed on their forehead at birth; you’ve allowed yourself to believe that you’re doomed. You’ll never be happy if you don’t stop telling yourself you’ll never be happy. Tragedy is one side of a coin Miss Penny.”
“Yes, I believe the other side is suitably labelled Comedy.”
“No Silly, the other side of the coin is Happiness. The coin is in your hand Miss Penny; turn it over. The coin is always in your hand.” His impassioned declaration dragged her eyes up towards his face. He looked upset; as if he took her inability to believe fate could grant her happiness as a personal affront. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “I don’t understand why you can only see tragedy. What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
“An old maid…a servant…the unluckiest woman ever born.” Her tears were captured by the cherished handkerchief and returned to his waistcoat.
“When I look at you Penny, I see a woman who has been saved from countless vile unions for me. I see a woman who is…delectable. Yo
ur ears were created to ensnare me. You’re divine; I could kiss you forever. I see fate having picked you up and dropped you in Bath at my feet. This past month I couldn’t make up mind whether to kidnap you or check myself into Bedlam…”
“That’s flattering…”
“Penny, I was desperate to see you or hear word of you and when I saw your cousin I knew I had to talk with her; and then to turn and find you standing there. Seeing you was bliss like the most perfect number; I wanted to carry you away and marry you immediately. You are the luckiest penny fate has ever dropped at my feet. Can’t you see it? Don’t you feel even a little pleased to have met me? Aren’t you glad our paths have crossed again in dreary Bath? Am I just another scrubbed up suitor or might I make you feel happy to know that a stupid thoughtless wager has brought me into your life? And if you feel happy knowing I’ve come into your life, doesn’t that make you feel a little lucky?”
“I never thought of it that way…”