“What did you ladies think of the kissing balls at the earl’s Christmas Ball? I confess, I was surprised by the sheer number of them. There must have been a dozen, each with a dozen silver berries.” Her smile turned somewhat mischievously. “My husband claimed one fairly early in the evening.”
Mrs. Brody adjusted the spectacles on her nose she had taken from her sewing basket. She peered over the wire frame. “I saw a great many matrons turning their noses up, while at the same time herding their daughters beneath the mistletoe. I have never been so entertained.”
Though it was not precisely the way Penny wished to begin, she seized the opportunity. Keeping her fingers busy with her embroidery, head down, she said, “I was the recipient of a mistletoe kiss.”
The other ladies shifted, and Aunt Elizabeth dropped her sewing into her lap. “Penelope, you did not say a word to me about it. Dear me. Whoever was bold enough to take a kiss from a young woman so newly returned to the neighborhood?”
“I am certain I could guess,” Mrs. Brody said, one corner of her mouth going upward.
“Oh, it was only Robert Ellsworth.” Penny lifted one shoulder in a shrug, not even smiling over the memory. She did not wish to be the subject of the teasing, but to discuss Robert. “We are very good friends, and always have been. His elder brother goaded him to it.” She doubted he had even bothered to take a berry, the traditional trophy of a young man who had won a Christmas kiss.
Christine Gilbert scoffed, tossing her head in a way that made her brown curls dance beneath her white cap. “No man can be forced into kissing a woman he does not already wish to kiss. I am certain your Mr. Ellsworth enjoyed the moment.”
Although heat burned at the top of her cheeks, Penny ignored the sensation. “Oh, perhaps, but I know that he has his eye on another young lady. I think he might have given his kiss with greater enthusiasm had I been that particular person.”
Mrs. Brody and her sister-in-law exchanged wide-eyed glances. “Truly?” Mrs. Brody asked. “I had not heard of him forming any sort of attachment.”
“Nor have I. Though it is not necessarily my business to know of such things,” Christine Gilbert said, “I am certain my brother would have mentioned it. Mr. Robert Ellsworth is my brother’s steward,” she explained when Aunt Elizabeth’s brow furrowed.
“Dear me. I was not aware of that connection.” Aunt Elizabeth tipped her head to one side, eyeing Penny with a slight frown. Oh dear. Aunt Elizabeth appeared most suspicious.
Penny hurried to move the conversation along. “I am under the impression that Robert has not yet secured the young lady’s good opinion, though he must be hopeful of doing so. We only spoke upon the subject briefly. I have been away from the neighborhood so long, though, that I am not much help to him. I cannot even be sure which miss he has his eye upon.”
“If I think on it, I might determine whom it might be.” Christine pursed her lips. She was an elegant woman in appearance, though Penny had always been rather intimidated by her. The woman had a fierce sort of boldness that she never feared to display. Penny had been younger than all three Devon sisters, so she had always been a bit in awe of them.
After another moment of silence, Aunt Elizabeth spoke again. “I have heard a great deal about Mr. Ellsworth, before we even came to visit. He and Penny were apparently thick as thieves before she and her brothers came to live with us. I do not think I have heard a single childhood memory mentioned by Penny without a mention of ‘Robert did this,’ or ‘Robert said that.’”
Penny accidentally stabbed her thumb with her needle and yelped, putting the injured finger to her lips. She blinked rapidly, staring up at her aunt.
“Oh, you poor dear,” the elder Mrs. Gilbert said sympathetically. “Here. Let me have your handkerchief. I will wet it for you and you may wrap your thumb in it.” She came and retrieved Penny’s handkerchief and went to the tea things.
“Are you all right?” Aunt Elizabeth asked, real surprise upon her face. “I cannot remember the last time you hurt yourself with a needle. You are usually so deft at your sewing.”
Loathe to confirm whatever suspicions her aunt had begun to form, Penny cast about for an excuse and found one out the window. “It is the weather, I am afraid. It has me all out of sorts.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s features softened, her eyes filling with sympathy. “My poor dear. Yes, I imagine all the rain and thunder would strain your nerves. I know all the gray clouds and damp have brought my spirits low a time or two.”
The other women in the room murmured their agreement, and wishes for sunshine or even snow, anything to end the monotony of rainfall. But Aunt Elizabeth reached out and gave Penny’s uninjured hand a gentle squeeze, which made Penny duck her head in guilt.
Aunt Elizabeth assumed the weather had caused Penny to dwell on the night she lost her parents to a rainstorm and poorly maintained bridge, which would of course prove distressing. In truth, Penny’s thoughts and heart had been turned too often in Robert’s direction to give her time to think on what she had lost years before. Yes, the pain of her parents’ deaths would always be with her, but the old ache had lessened somewhat since the moment she laid eyes upon Robert beneath his umbrella.
Unfortunately, the conversation turned to other topics, such as the coming New Year’s Eve festivities, the masque ball, and Epiphany itself. Nothing else was said about Robert, and Mrs. Christine Gilbert never brought up whether she had thought of a likely candidate for his affection.
Chapter 13
December 31st, 1825
Robert arrived late to the New Year’s Eve party at the Brody home. Frankly, when he received an invitation he had been surprised. He did not know the Brody family particularly well, but if they wished to invite people to make Penny comfortable, he supposed the invitation made sense. When he entered the house, which was nearly as fine as the Devon estate, he shook droplets of water from his hat before handing it to the butler.
Once Robert’s overcoat had been taken, the butler handed everything off to a footman. “This way, Mr. Ellsworth. The guests are in the drawing room.” The butler led the way up the wide steps and through a corridor until they arrived at a pair of doors. From behind the doors, Robert heard laughter, and someone playing the pianoforte.
He drew in a breath, settling his nerves, preparing to lay eyes upon Penny for the first time since he took her home. The butler opened the doors and announced Robert’s arrival.
Mr. George Brody appeared immediately at Robert’s side, bowing. “Mr. Robert Ellsworth, so good of you to come. Your brothers are already here.” He gestured to a corner of the room where a large pianoforte stood, Samuel and Peter standing on either side of its player. Of course, the one playing was none other than Penny.
“I am grateful for the invitation, Mr. Brody. Thank you or including me in your celebration of the New Year.”
“Not at all, sir.” Brody grinned broadly at Robert. “We will play games soon, and of course have a round of snapdragon and cake. We mean to go down to the entry to let the New Year in, too. All the best traditions and none of the dull nonsense.” Brody gestured to the room again. “Please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the evening.”
With his brothers flanking Penny at the instrument, Robert knew exactly where he wished to begin his evening. He made his way to the corner of the room, stopping on occasion to trade nods with other guests. His focus remained entirely on Penny, though she had not yet noticed his entrance. She had her hair up upon her head like a crown, woven through with white ribbons, and pearls at her throat. She wore an ivory dress, capturing the look of a perfect angel.
Her eyes rose from her music and met his when he was only a few steps away, and the notes of the song faltered. Had he startled her? But then, her smile, the one she seemed to save just for him, turned the corners of her mouth upward and made her eyes twinkle. As he took in this brief loveliness, he couldn’t help but remember the special look Mrs. Devon had for her husband. Strange that it almost felt
comparable.
“Here is Robert, come to answer all of our questions about him.” A hint of teasing in her tone was all the warning he had before Samuel turned a somewhat conniving grin in his direction.
“Ah, the middle brother. We have had the most entertaining conversation about you.”
Peter appeared almost delighted by Robert’s arrival, though he made a valiant effort to temper his grin. “I’m not certain Robert will be as amused as we are by our speculations.”
Penny winced, her expression one of chagrin. “I am afraid I am to blame for this, Robert. I thought I asked a perfectly innocent question, but now your brothers are rather like hounds on the scent of a fox.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Robert asked, noting Samuel’s unchanged grin from the corner of his eye.
After one last flourish of notes, Penny removed her hands from the instrument keys and placed them in her lap. She narrowed her eyes at Samuel. “Do stop that, Samuel. You look like you are contemplating something wicked.”
“Oh, I think he is,” Peter said, rocking forward on his heels and back again. “And I would rather not be present for it.” He bowed, somewhat sharply, then walked away. “Good luck, Rob,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Robert needed to face the issue head on and get to the bottom of it. Though Penny appeared somewhat anxious, Samuel’s obvious satisfaction needed addressing. “Out with it, Sam. I have the feeling we cannot enjoy our evening until you have your fun.”
Samuel cut a glance at Penny before tucking his hands behind his back and lifting his eyebrows superciliously. “Our charming friend, Miss Clark, has asked me if I thought you might have a mind to court a certain young woman.”
Warmth suffused him, creeping up his neck and into his ears. Nothing had prepared Robert for that. Indeed, his heart skipped about like a startled deer before Samuel had even finished speaking. Robert swallowed, though the action did nothing to subdue the excitement in that moment.
Had Penny noticed—did she suspect—that Robert nurtured feelings for her? Is that why she asked Samuel such a bold question? Perhaps she had hoped for a hint—
The woman he loved spoke rapidly, her words almost defensive. “I had no idea that Samuel would treat the question as a subject for jest and wild speculation. I merely wondered if you had your eye on any young lady so that I might be certain I approved. You know I could not countenance you wedding someone I could not enjoy visiting.” She tipped her chin up and narrowed her coppery eyes first at Samuel, then at Robert. “I apologize that my curiosity has set your brother on this fox chase.”
Her words doused his hope as easily as a pail of water would douse a candle. Then she had not hoped to hear, had not even though it possible, that it was she whom he wished to pay court.
“A fox chase?” Samuel asked, obviously unaware of the turn in Robert’s mood. The eldest Ellsworth sounded as merry as ever. “I do not think I should have to run far to find a young lady that would make my brother a happy partner, and likely fulfill whatever standard you wish of her, Miss Clark.” He put a hand on Robert’s shoulder and tried to share his good humor, too. “What say you, Robert? Will this be the last year you spend as a bachelor?”
Though he wished to pull away, to bow coldly and leave without another word, Robert could not do that to Penny. She did not understand her innocent desire had wounded him. But Samuel ought to have known better than to mock the situation, considering that he suspected Robert’s heart already had a favorite in Penny Clark.
Forcing a grin, Robert shrugged just enough to remove Samuel’s hand. “I have no intention of finding a wife, Sam, as you well know. My hours are too devoted to my duties to consider courtship. Though I thank you both for your concern.”
With a snort, Samuel started to argue. “But Rob—”
“I think,” Penny said, cutting him off as she stood from the pianoforte, “that I should like some punch.” She came to stand between the brothers and looked from one to the other. “Who will attend me to the refreshment table in the other room?”
Samuel, who had frozen the moment she stood, closed his mouth with a click. He quickly bowed. “As I have already had the pleasure of your company for the last quarter hour, I will allow my brother that honor.”
Of course he would. Traitor. Doing everything he could to humiliate Robert for the feelings he held for Penny. Robert glared at Samuel over her head and spoke through gritted teeth. “It would be my pleasure, Penny.”
She took his arm and tugged until he fell in step beside her, making for the door. Across the room a door connected to another room where more guests milled near a large table well-laden with platters, bowls, and cups of every sort of refreshment one could wish for a celebration. They walked in that direction, Robert’s heart contracting painfully when he saw the concern in Penny’s eyes.
“I had not meant to cause you distress, Robert,” she whispered to him as they moved through the guests. “When you admitted there was someone, I let my curiosity overcome my good sense. But I only wished to help, truly.”
Robert shook his head, allowing his shoulders to fall as he let out a breathy laugh. “Help? How could your curiosity help me, Penny?”
A flash of hurt appeared, or so he thought, before she lowered her eyes to the floor. They had crossed the threshold into the next room when she answered. “I thought, if I knew whom you admired, I might better encourage you, or even speak to the lady of all your wonderful traits. I had no well-thought-out plan. But I desire your happiness.”
As he desired hers.
“Your motivation was kind,” he acknowledged. “Please, Penny. Do not trouble yourself on my account. I am a man grown, or had you not noticed?” He attempted a smile, but his lips fell flat almost immediately. “I am a steward. Not a fine catch.”
“That is preposterous. I wish you could see that.” Penny released his arm to take up a cup of punch. She handed the first to him, then took another for herself to sip. She turned away, allowing him an unimpeded view of her lovely profile. After she lowered her cup, she released a breath full of displeasure. “Robert, you are a wonderful man. Any woman would be well-pleased to have your attention.”
“Even you?” was what he wanted to ask. Rather than risk his mouth releasing the question, he gulped down his punch in one long swig. When he finished, he put the cup down on a tray for a servant to remove to the kitchens.
Penny regarded him with a puzzled expression, and her lips parted as though to ask a question, but Mr. Brody called the room to order. His two-dozen guests turned their attention to their host, including Penny. Robert allowed his eyes to linger on her another moment, wondering what she would have said, watching her lips press together again and trying not to remember the mistletoe kiss. Or the fact that the silver berry he had claimed still rested in his waistcoat pocket. He’d taken to carrying it about with him, as though it were a talisman or charm against ill luck.
He called himself a fool and yielded his attention to Mr. Brody’s announcement.
“We are to play snapdragon! Make certain to remove your gloves and only play if you believe yourself to have nimble fingers.” He gestured for the servants to bring a table forward, then two footmen brought out a large copper platter. Maids poured pitchers of brandy into the shallow basin, and then raisins were sprinkled inside by Mrs. Brody.
Penny bobbed up and down on her heels, the earlier concern on her face replaced by an expression of childlike glee. “Oh, I do love this game.” The lamps lit around the room were dimmed, candles blown out, and then Mr. Brody lit the brandy.
Blue and purple flames sprung up in the bowl, dancing eerily in the darkness.
“Who will claim the most raisins, I wonder?” Mrs. Brody asked the room, the challenge and laughter both in her voice.
Penny had already stripped the glove from her right hand and moved forward eagerly, and Robert came behind her. Several guests stayed back, in the shadowed edges of the room, speaking quietly and laughing as others tried the
ir luck. Peter had three raisins out and popped in his mouth before he yelped and backed away. A young lady managed two. Samuel took only one before shaking his hand out and standing aside to allow two other guests to take his place.
Then Penny and Robert both stood at the table, and Robert belatedly remembered to remove his glove.
“Shall we go at the same time?” Penny asked, and he saw the blue flames reflected in her eyes. Had there ever been a woman as lovely as she? Surely, never.
“Yes. We’ll go at the same time and then again. First to falter owes the other a forfeit,” he said, the silver berry in his pocket seeming to press against him.
Mrs. Brody heard the remark and called it out to others in the room. “We have a contest between Mr. Robert Ellsworth and Miss Clark. Let us see who loses their nerve first.” Others in the room clapped, a few calling out their encouragement.
“You can best him, Miss Clark,” shouted Samuel from somewhere behind them.
Penny’s hand went forward and Robert hurried to match her, snatching a raisin from the burning pan at the same moment she did. The flames licked at his wrist but did not burn. Then they reached in again and each pulled out a second raisin. Then a third. Penny moved with a quickness he could not hope to match for long. Fourth raisins were freed from fire and eaten, warm and beginning to plump with brandy.
A glance at Penny from the corner of his eye revealed her tongue darting out to lick a drop of brandy from her lips, and Robert faltered. Her hand was already in the bowl when he finally moved to catch up, barely popping the fruit into his mouth before reaching for another—
They both reached for the same raisin, their fingers tangling a moment, hands colliding, and the brief hesitation it caused in both their movements sent the blue flames flickering over their hands, turning orange. Penny yipped in pain, snatching her hand back to cradle it against her chest. Robert had the raisin but closed his fist around it and shook out his hand, trying to alleviate the burning sensation.
Penny’s Yuletide Wish: A Branches of Love Novella Page 8