His Forbidden Debutante (10 page)

‘Have you conferred with my father concerning the investment proposal in the family business? With your impending vows it would do you well to show support of our enterprise. I’ve already mentioned the high level of profit. Why wouldn’t an earl wish to pad his coffers with financial security beyond measure?’

Allington lunged as if to force the issue and Penwick parried. ‘Why would a successful jeweller seek further investment if the business is as profitable as you claim?’ Penwick sliced the air beside Allington’s right shoulder, the ability to touch and draw blood possible if they duelled for any other reason than sport.

‘The diamond business will be mine someday. It serves me well to cultivate your involvement.’ The reverberated clang of a deflection echoed in the room. ‘And young earls, such as yourself, oft have more money than they can count. I could handle the proceedings of your investment myself if you feel uncomfortable approaching Father.’

‘I remind you I wish for no misunderstanding with your sister. I would rather wait until after our wedding day. Claire deserves my pure decision unencumbered by ambiguous suggestion which will ensue if I enter into a venture with your family’s diamond mines.’ He dared a step backward to adjust his glove, but Allington continued his assault as if he wouldn’t allow the courtesy and Penwick quickly raised his weapon, noting with an unpleasant awareness the gentleman’s motives continued to present a concern. Allington’s attempt to inveigle his commitment to invest compounded the predicament.

‘My sister can be handled.’

It was a troubling statement, thick with innuendo and poor intent. Penwick reacted with aggressive advancement, chasing his opponent backward at least three strides and challenging the last parry with a compound riposte which expressed his emotion as well as his skill.

True, of late he’d reconsidered his decision to marry, wondering if the attempt to suit his title was misplaced. Perhaps he should allow time to erase the memories of the past and offer a more natural approach to a relationship. Yet another part of him, a stronger, more decisive section of his brain, forced the issue, insisting the only way he could move forward and forget Lavinia was to enter into a convenient, suitable union and lay the issue to eternal rest. When the vows were spoken there would be no looking back, no matter what secrets lay locked in his wardrobe, no matter what foolish promises his heart refused to dismiss.

Most importantly, Claire deserved better. He had given his word and he would not break it. Nor would he cause Claire undeserved embarrassment. A broken engagement would impugn her honour and cast gratuitous aspersions. ‘I presume you speak as a glib older brother, otherwise I’m obliged to take insult on behalf of my intended.’

‘Aah, chivalry. Another of your redeeming characteristics. Always the proper gentleman. No wonder Father is inordinately pleased at your entry into our fold. Impeccable manners, esteemed title… the list is endless. Are you not flawed like the rest of us mortal beings?’ Allington’s words were spoken with fine-edged sarcasm.

‘Not while fencing.’ Penwick had had enough of their verbal duel and forced his advantage as Allington adjusted his stance near the corner. As predicted, the man attempted an envelopment to reverse their positions, but a swift lunge produced a forward recovery and they once again chased each other across the tiles, the hollow song of metal on metal left in their wake.

‘Unless your hesitation to do business indicates another issue afoot.’

Would the man not let it rest? Penwick huffed a breath of impatience and struck with a quick turn of the wrist.

‘Mayhaps you’re not as wealthy as you would have society believe. Mayhaps you keep a pretty little brunette in a country cottage somewhere.’

The suggestions were meant to unsettle, distract and provoke, and Penwick, usually impervious to amateur tactics, experienced a flick of anger that would not bode well for Allington’s continuation. He advanced without mercy, knocking the blade from his opponent’s grasp a stroke later.

Allington’s laughter overrode the sound of his sword skittering to the far wall. ‘Anger. I like it. You’re not infallible after all.’ He raised his hand and Penwick hoisted him to stand. ‘Excellent bout.’

‘I knew the outcome before we began.’ Penwick found little humour in the confrontation.

‘Clever, and true.’ They walked to the side of the room and retrieved the towels they’d left waiting. ‘I won’t mention the investment opportunity again if that suits you, not even at dinner this evening with Father.’

‘I would appreciate the courtesy.’ He nodded his agreement.

True to his word, Allington spared all talk of investment, though the subject of diamonds invaded almost every other discussion. Penwick would have to grow accustomed to their centrality in the conversation once he became part of the family, as each member rhapsodised endlessly about mines, gemstone quality and jewellery design. And of course, the impending wedding proved a favourite topic as well. But as the evening ended and he retired in his guestroom, his thoughts were not focused on gemstones or betrothal rings. He stared out the window and remembered a passage from one of Lavinia’s letters where she spoke of wishes and dreams for the future, and with a bit of whimsy he wondered what she was doing at the selfsame moment he thought of her as he stood near the window at Clipthorne.

Chapter Eight

Fancy the circumstances that placed your wayward letter into my hands. Mr Crownwell’s eyesight has been failing steadily and one never knows what will be bundled together when Father retrieves the mail from the innkeeper at Ludlow. It makes for very interested supper conversation. Rather than have Father travel back to correct the error, I volunteered to return your unopened message accompanied with my note explaining the circumstances. I never expected your words of thanks the following week, and I’m grateful our correspondence flourished from there. I very much look forward to your letters. Until someday… Lavinia

‘Do hurry, Dinah,’ Livie clamoured as she rushed down the hilly embankment and approached the Serpentine in Hyde Park. Mist floated across the lake’s surface at the early hour, as calm as a sleeping dream, and while she had enough determination for the both of them, Livie knew Dinah would have much preferred to stay abed, or at the least, be left behind with the warming brick inside the carriage.

‘Your boots will become stained.’ A strident tone of censure matched the dire prediction.

Livie wondered how Dinah accomplished the scold, being younger and less experienced in the ways of the world. ‘My independence is more important than footwear and these soles are nearly worn through. I selected these apurpose. Besides there are worse things in life than soiled slippers.’ She mumbled the latter more to herself than her maid.

‘Shall I bring the blanket?’

A smile tilted Livie’s mouth, though she remained far enough ahead that Dinah would never see it. ‘If you prefer.’

When the fancy struck, Livie spent an early morning hour at the water’s edge where she scanned the glass-like lake with aspiration for the forthcoming season when the water would freeze and she could fulfil another promise to herself and learn to ice skate.

‘Here you are.’ Dinah made a fuss of wrapping the woolly brown blanket around their shoulders, snuggled together only a few strides from the water. ‘You will achieve it this year. I feel it in my bones.’

‘That may be the low temperature affecting you. It is particularly frigid this morning, isn’t it? The season has taken a turn.’ She pulled the corners of the blanket more firmly around their huddled forms to create a cocoon of warmth. Still, the words weren’t voiced as complaint. Whenever London became quiet and chilled like this morning, she was reminded of Shropshire and the happy countryside years spent there with her family. ‘Thank heavens my come-out is in less than a week. No one wishes to attend a party where the guests are confined to a stuffy parlour or overcrowded ballroom, especially when Kirby Park offers such frondiferous acreage.’

‘I agree, although our discomfort is due to the hour. The sun hasn’t warmed the air yet.’

‘Dr Morris discouraged my desire to skate. He expressed the activity would be especially damaging to the ankles, although I believe he never anticipated my thorough recovery. Aunt Kate tells me the doctor is shocked every time he hears of yet another of my accomplishments.’ She paused, though Dinah had nothing to add. ‘And truly, how difficult can it be to balance on the metal blade? I’ve watched skaters glide across the ice as if it requires no effort at all, including old Lord Braven who walks on land as if he’s consumed too much whisky, yet manages to stay upright, as graceful as a gazelle, when upon the ice.’

‘You will achieve anything you set your mind to. I have no doubt.’ Her maid’s vow was a vehement whisper.

‘Nor do I and I thank you, Dinah.’ Livie snuggled deeper into the blanket’s warmth. ‘I’ve already drawn a detailed sketch of the most beautiful printed-leather skating boots. I’m hoping Mr Horne is up for the challenge. The cuffs are trimmed in ermine.’

Dinah responded with a raised brow, but her maid’s exaggeration didn’t deter in the least. It was a personal challenge and daunting obstacle she needed to overcome, to test her ability on the ice, and no one was going to stop her. Not her sister’s well-meant coddling, Dashwood’s overbearing protectiveness, or the cost of divine leather skates.

‘Remind me again why it is important we visit the lake at this cruel hour?’ A shiver repeated its path through Dinah, the maid cosying closer.

Livie laughed outright. ‘Because now that we’ve come and I’ve affirmed my devotion to the task, we can return home while everyone else is just awakening. I’ll explain how we’ve taken a bit of fresh air on our walk and we’re ravenous for breakfast. The whole world stops when I suggest I’m hungry.’ She nodded to reinforce that observation. ‘If I dared mention I wished to come out to the park, it would be arranged for afternoon hours when every dandy and English rose crowded the promenade, not to mention I’d be pestered for my reason until my ears bled and then told I should concentrate on the arrangements for my debut instead of foolish dreams about ice skating.’ Her mouth dropped into a frown. ‘Wilhelmina and Dash wish to protect me from the world. What a foolish endeavour.’

‘I see.’ Dinah reached between the folds of the blanket and squeezed Livie’s hand. ‘In that case, I’m very glad you woke me. As before, I’ll remind Johnny Coachman to keep our secret.’

Instinctively, they glanced over their shoulders, noses almost bumping, to ascertain the carriage waited patiently in the roadway, as it did, although their attention was drawn to another conveyance as it made its approach to the exact same location despite the ungodly hour.

Livie held her breath, sending a silent vow skyward and willing the coach to continue along its journey, but it didn’t. It stopped beside her carriage and the two drivers commenced conversation. She couldn’t imagine why.

Dinah immediately unravelled herself from the blanket. ‘Shall I see what this is about?’

‘I suppose…’ Livie’s voice trailed off, undecided and more than a little curious. The last thing she needed was for a tale to be created about her having
odd proclivities
or
unnatural habits
. Aunt Kate often reminded society held females, debutantes especially, to a strict code of conduct while the same indiscretions were overlooked in gentlemen of any age. She returned her focus to the lake, noticing in a blurred last glance that the arriving carriage displayed a crest upon the door. With any hope, the elder peer inside would hurry on his way. Erring on the safe side to ensure she wouldn’t be noticed, she scooted behind the muscular trunk of a nearby hornbeam tree and aligned her body to all but disappear, only taking pause to untangle her hair where it snagged tight on an irregular piece of bark.

Trapped for the time being, she examined the boughs. Gone were the catkins and nuts, the branches barren except for an abandoned bird’s nest crammed into a vee in one of the lowest limbs. The new sun asserted itself in the sky, a bright ray casting light to glint off a silvery object woven into the collection of twigs and leaves. Dare she take a look?

Checking her position as to stay as concealed as possible, she tiptoed to the empty nest and plucked it from the branch, cradling the fragile creation in the bowl of her hand. At closer inspection the nest proved a wonder of nature. Little bits of coloured thread, scraps of cloth and pliant foliage interwove in neater stitches than she’d ever accomplish with an embroidery needle, and as she’d noticed, along the outer rim a thin silver bracelet laced the other additions.

Her breath caught and her eyes grew wide as if unexpectedly meeting an old friend one thought gone forever. It was her mother’s charm bracelet, Wilhelmina’s bracelet now, although her sister had lost it in the Thames and they’d all believed it forsaken. They’d mourned it thoroughly. But how could it be?

Heedless to the bird’s fine handiwork, Livie removed the bracelet and tossed the nest into the grass before she extended the chain flat on her opened palm. How remarkable. Each of the bracelet’s five ornate charms remained intact. She couldn’t wait to show Whimsy… although the unsavoury conclusion she’d have to explain how she’d come by the bracelet snagged her excitement. Perhaps Dinah would have input to accomplish a plausible excuse.

Where was Dinah, anyway?

The crush of broken twigs and scattered leaves answered her silent question and Livie slipped the bracelet into her skirt pocket and flattened her back to the wide trunk of the hornbeam tree in wait.

Please be Dinah.

Please be Dinah.

It wasn’t Dinah.

Nor was it someone who’d come to disrupt her private contemplation and discover her hiding place. The gentleman stalked right past without a sidelong glance, down to the edge of the Serpentine where he picked up a stone, freed by the tip of his polished boot, and skittered it across the lake with a vivid oath. The rock skipped five times. Impressive indeed, the best of the best only managed four. Her gasp of admiration must have squeaked out, for his head whipped round to discover her wide-eyed surveillance and, for the second remarkable incident of the morning, she recognised Lord W, his appearance exceedingly handsome and terribly wicked now that a knowing smile curled his mouth and erased all previous anger. They stood in silence and she observed how his stance relaxed, his shoulders eased, as if he were relieved for some unnamed reason. Surely something troubled him, but he’d now decided to let it go.