His Forbidden Debutante (21 page)

Lavinia.

Claire entered then, interrupting as if to offset the unpleasant realisation which resonated within him in a silent scream.

‘Milord? Is everything all right? I didn’t expect you.’

She appeared as she always did, a calm water, but with startling clarity he realised he knew little about his betrothed. Did she argue? Have staunch opinions concerning politics and popular topics? Did she let down her guard and open her heart to emotion? He’d experienced more meaningful confession within the pages of Lavinia’s letters than he detected from Claire, alive and breathing before him.

‘It is a matter of great importance.’ He didn’t say more, allowing her to enter the room more fully before he elaborated. She took a seat near a petite jardinière table, the surface littered with several fragrant herbs and miniature flowering plants to compose an indoor fairy garden. A singular stalk of King’s Ransom, heavy with dainty blue blossoms, hung over the side of the case. Claire worked to right the plant, unaware of how serious the poised conversation.

‘Father and brother seem more anxious than anyone for our vows two days hence.’ She met his eyes briefly and stopped fussing with the flowers to offer him a gentle smile, leaving him to wonder if she were included in the group to whom she referred.

‘Claire.’ Damn it to hell, he had no idea how to proceed. ‘I would never wish to cause you distress or stain your reputation.’

Her expression turned dubious though she did not speak.

‘Marriage is a lifetime commitment. With your sensibility and intelligence, you would expect no compromise.’ He hadn’t said it yet, though she would surely realise where his declaration headed, wouldn’t she? ‘I’ve come to realise that I proposed for the wrong reasons. Feeling a sense of duty and responsibility with the new title, I have cheated you, denied you the opportunity to find someone who can dedicate his heart in kind to his security.’

There.

It was said.

She sat motionless. So still, he struggled to discern whether or not she breathed, and he waited, in doubt beneath her cool demeanour lurked a defiant shrew, but indeterminate as to her true character.

‘They will wonder about me, won’t they?’ She canted her head and looked to him with sorrow in her eyes. ‘They will whisper and debate what is wrong with me. It is rather callous treatment for a lady, when the gentleman can choose his own future and remove himself from an honourable agreement unscathed by public opinion, sometimes championed for his hasty insight.’

He clenched his jaw and searched for the correct words to appease, and yet remain steadfast with purpose. He regretted having to hurt her feelings. ‘No one will champion my unconscionable misstep. In truth, I never intended to deceive you and believed our union would be the right path for my future, but Claire…’ He approached her and sat beside her on the mahogany-framed sofa. ‘These past weeks have been pleasant, but nothing more. Our kiss in the orchard convinced you hold me in kind regard, but a marriage should be composed of undying passion along with many other qualities. You deserve so much more than a decision made by a man who sought to fulfil a duty. You merit undying loyalty and emotion. Surely you envision the same when you regard your future.’

‘You wish to discard me because you believe I lack passion?’ She’d returned to fussing with the plants on the table in a show of confusing diffidence he hadn’t unriddled yet.

‘No, that is not my intention.’ He touched her chin with his finger and turned her to face him again. ‘But while companionship would grow, you deserve more than a comfortable marriage, as do I.’ He felt nothing more than congenial friendship for Claire, but even now, as he negotiated this prickly conversation, the remembrance of Lavinia stirred his blood.

Claire’s eyes welled, the only emotion, but he had no time to focus on her conservative reaction as his attention was drawn to the doorway where Jonathan Allington entered on two long strides.

‘You wish to break the engagement? You can’t possibly and you know that. Father will sue you for breach of promise and your name will be sullied along with that pristine title you newly acquired and protect so vehemently. Have a care for all involved.’ He tossed his gloves onto a nearby sofa table. ‘It’s not as if you can’t carry on with your life’s interests after the marriage. Tuck Claire away on a country estate and return to London.’

‘Jonathan!’ Claire stood before her brother but he barely spared her a glance.

‘If you care for your sister, you will wish her to be happy, not settled in a match of obligation.’ Penwick stood now as well, on guard of Jonathan’s intrusive hostility.

‘Most of London is settled in the same manner. All of a sudden you entertain thoughts of discovering your one true love? I would think an intelligent man of great standing would have abandoned silly stories perpetuated in youth.’

Penwick dismissed the barbed jest. ‘If Claire releases me from the arrangement we will both eschew gossip and remain on terms of friendship to eradicate any untoward rumours.’

‘My father will force you to marry her.’

The statement was made with such blunt confidence, Penwick immediately grew wary. Without thought, his hand went to his waist in search of his sword, but he wore none.

‘Father would never do such a thing.’ At last Claire showed some emotion.

‘Listen to your sister, Allington.’

‘If my father will not act, I will on behalf of my family’s reputation. Don’t make a foolish mistake.’ Jonathan advanced another step, his body angled, on guard. ‘And there is the matter of my sister’s virtue.’ Mockery outlined his words.

‘There’s no question of the propriety of my relations with your sister. Ask her yourself.’ He shook his head with bewildered denial.

‘I’ve no need to question her. All those quiet walks to the orchard are fodder enough.’ The inference was clear, though Claire remained quiet and the expectant silence stretched.

‘What do you hope to accomplish by this unwarranted accusation? Surely you wouldn’t want your sister to live her life knowing I meant to break the engagement and you caged her in.’

Allington sneered in response. ‘There are more important matters at stake than my sister’s tender feelings.’

‘You can’t force me to marry Claire.’ Exasperation caused his words to sound harsh.

Allington chuckled in response. ‘Shall I fetch the brandy? I believe we have a misunderstanding, my friend.’

Chapter Seventeen

‘We got the names, but it ain’t like we can drop the knocker and ‘ave a chat.’

‘Patience, Booth.’ Hawkins waved his hand as if to fend off the fool’s suggestion. ‘Uppity chits like those two only know ‘ow to spend money. Just wait and see. They’ll make it easy for us. Mark my words. We watch. We wait. And, when the time is right, we nab ‘im.’

He hoped it proved true. Everything with this job had gone wrong from the start and recovering the pricey diamonds had become a complicated endeavour. The clock ticked faster each day and he worried all luck would run out before the job was done.

‘Esme, I’m thankful you came out this morning. I survived a veritable interrogation at breakfast. Wilhelmina’s questions were endless and at the opposite end of the table Dash remained silent, casting a glance over his newspaper whenever a word or enquiry snagged his attention. After which he’d glide back to his reading without remark, silently weighing my response in exculpation. It was unnerving to say the least.’ Livie ended on a low note of despair.

‘How you have suffered.’ Esme smiled as she looped her arm with Livie’s and they manoeuvred through the early pedestrian traffic. ‘Now what proved so urgent you needed my support and assistance other than to recant the longanimity of Dash’s censure? I believed you when you said you were no longer purchasing shoes at present. What could bring us to the exact city block where Lott’s is located?’ There was no mistaking the cajolery in her tone despite she pointed out Livie’s vow to mend her ways.

‘This.’ Livie stopped, shifted her gaze to a nearby office building and nudged her friend unceremoniously beneath the awning. Cloaked in shadow she produced the small black pouch from her pocket and emptied the diamond shoe clips into her palm. ‘I need to return these to Lott’s. Ever since Mr Horne closed unexpectedly, I’ve had an eerie, uncomfortable feeling about keeping them any longer. I’ve already behaved quite rudely. I’d imagine the recipient is upset not knowing where such valuable, or at the least cleverly designed, embellishment has got to.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember these and they are exquisite.’ With a delicate touch, Esme ran her fingertip across the glistening stones. ‘Put them away before someone sees what you have. If they’re real, the pair is worth a fortune.’ Her hushed whisper insisted Livie comply.

‘I agree.’ Livie busied herself with doing as she was told and returned the pouch to her skirt pocket before she matched her friend’s attention. ‘I regret keeping them. Another of my foolish mistakes of late.’ She paused as she weighed the regretful words, then continued, resolute that she would be smarter in the future. ‘I wouldn’t wish for Mr Horne to pay the price due to my dishonesty. His reputation and life’s trade are at stake if even a snippet of repugnant gossip taints the workmanship and reliability of his business. Even I cannot fortify his coffers with my promise to refrain from purchases for the time being. The only way to clear my conscience and do well by the dear man is to return these clips.’

‘Hmm. Interesting perspective, but excellent idea. The shop is around the corner. Let’s take care of the task and stop for tea and cakes before you return to Kirby Park. I want to hear more about what you aren’t saying. Things are happening in your life and you haven’t included me in the details. That violates the code of our friendship and don’t even think of excuses and confutation. I can see a depth of emotion in your eyes; something you’re trying desperately to hide from me. You should know it’s no use to do so.’

Esme sounded both affronted and a little hurt, not at all what Livie intended. She nodded with absent agreement and aimed for the shoe shop, a wave of relief accompanying the realisation that not only would she return the clips, but she’d be able to retell of yesterday’s adventure –
well, not the intimacies
– but her feelings and conflicted reaction when discovering the man she’d written to and dreamed about was indeed the Earl of Penwick. A man set to be married. One who had pledged his love to her only yesterday and to whom she’d issued a twenty-four-hour ultimatum.

A few more steps and they found themselves at the threshold of Lott’s Majestic Shoe Shop, but like before, the door remained locked tight, the interior dark. Livie removed the small bag from her pocket and, in an act of frustration equal to impatience, shifted it from one hand to the other before pounding on the door with pouch in hand as if to emphasise the importance of her mission. ‘I’m very concerned. I’ve never known Mr Horne to stay closed for several days in a row.’ Livie huffed a defeated sigh as she turned from the window and eyed her friend. ‘Be a dear and hold on to the clips for a moment. I need to remove my left shoe and shake a bit of gravel loose. Botheration. What will happen next?’

Handing Esme the pouch, her friend placed it into her reticule for safekeeping and Livie knelt near the large shop window to remove her slipper. She gave it a violent shake that pantomimed her current disposition, then laid it on the pavement while she attempted to adjust her stocking. Out of nowhere and with complete surprise, a ginger cat appeared at her side, anxious to rub against her skirts. It meowed with insistence, as if its sudden manifestation was not sufficient to announce its arrival. ‘Look, Esme, isn’t this the cat we saw through the shop window last time we visited? Do you think he’s lost, or worse, has been displaced because the store’s remained closed? I wonder if he’s hungry.’

Esme didn’t reply. Her gaze flicked to the left and right while her friend crouched near the brick foundation.

The cat purred and nuzzled Livie’s slipper. ‘Isn’t he adorable? I think he has impeccable taste in shoes. He must belong to Mr Horne, although that, indeed, doesn’t make sense. With how frequently I visit the shop, I would have noticed him, wouldn’t I? Lud, nothing seems logical these days.’ Further speculation stalled on her tongue as the cat lifted her slipper in its mouth and scampered away with a flick of its long furred tail.

‘The rascal has stolen my shoe.’ Livie shot upward, waving her arm in the direction of the absconding feline. ‘Catch him, Esme. That mule is silver-threaded muslin with a tambour-patterned toe.’

Confused by the nonsensical series of events, Esme was slow to respond. When she finally reacted, not a trace of the tabby could be seen. Pedestrians pushed past on their way to do business and the two ladies appeared forlorn and out of their depth by the rejected situation. With a crestfallen slump of her shoulders, Livie removed her other slipper and scanned the nearest passers-by to secure her unusual actions were not being noticed. She placed her gloved hand atop Esme’s arm, suddenly shorter by way of shoeless feet. ‘Let’s go around to the back of the shop. Isn’t that where we saw the cat last time? Maybe it scurried there with my shoe. Besides, I can’t be seen walking through the streets with nothing on my feet. Glory, I will become an embarrassment and confirm Whimsy’s darkest fears.’

Following her friend’s cue, Esme moved to the rear of building. With grave disappointment they did not discover the cat, and were working on a plan to find a way into the store where Livie could
borrow
a pair of shoes and leave a note for Mr Horne, when two ominous-looking men entered the otherwise empty narrow alley.

Livie tensed immediately, and Esme appeared equally alarmed. How foolish of them to be caught off guard away from the general pedestrian traffic and isolated behind a tall brick building. She opened her mouth to scream and found her voice paralysed.

‘What do we ‘ave ‘ere, Booth?’ The taller of the two males, dark-haired and beetle-browed, rapped the mousier man on the shoulder. ‘Mayhaps we’re interrupting a bold theft in the middle of day? Fancy us the ‘eroes.’