His Forbidden Debutante (12 page)

‘As you mentioned, he’s a charming gentleman.’ Livie’s face heated and she passed a hand over her cheek as if to erase her embarrassment. Next, she busied herself by cleaning her spectacles with the damask napkin rather than face their inquisition with clear focus.

The table remained silent for a solid three beats of her heart.

‘He’s devilishly handsome, then?’ Aunt Kate near yelled the question.

‘Oh, I never said that.’ Certainly her neck coloured as crimson as her face. Everyone, including the footman who stood across the room, would see her flaming face and know she told untruths.

‘I only thought to steal a dance.’ Aunt Kate took a sip of her tea and smiled as if she hadn’t instigated the most awkward breakfast conversation ever.

‘He’s a wondrous dancer.’
Had she said that aloud?
Apparently. Wilhelmina’s eyes flared and Dash’s brows attempted to push his hairline back an inch.

For a good long minute all one could hear was the clink of Aunt Kate’s fork against the china as she chased a slice of strawberry around the perimeter.

Dashwood cleared his throat, though all eyes remained riveted to Livie, and inclined to offer some type of explanation, she defaulted to vague assumption. ‘I assume practised dance is standard aristocratic business.’

Dash steeped his knife against the rim of his plate. ‘Indeed.’ He turned and winked at Wilhelmina. ‘It’s how I spend most all my spare time.’

Another pause held them captive until, at last, Whimsy rescued the situation. ‘I think inviting the Earl is a wonderful idea. How poorly done in our oversight of omitting his attendance when we’ve nigh invited everyone in London. Darling,’ – she gave her smile to Dash – ‘do you know of his direction?’

‘The information can be obtained easily enough, but you need not bother yourself. I will issue the invitation.’ He turned towards Livie with a glint of acute curiosity in his eye. ‘The question remains as to why you’d like to include the Earl in your debut celebration.’

Livie swallowed thoughtfully and took her time chewing the minuscule bit of yeast roll left on her tongue. Then, in a brilliant and quite miraculous recovery, she slipped her hand into her skirt pocket and displayed the charm bracelet retrieved from the bird’s nest earlier this morning. ‘You’d never guess what I found while out walking, Whimsy. It’s mother’s bracelet and truly a remarkable discovery. Dash, isn’t that your father’s charm still intact on the left side of the chain?’ She extended her open palm towards the head of the table.

An immediate rush of astonished surprise encompassed the breakfast room to be replaced a breath after with a flurry of questions and activity. No one could believe the extraordinary good fortune that their treasured charm bracelet be found after its unfortunate drop into the Thames. Who knew where it may have journeyed between then and now? But Livie hardly cared, pleased with her clever yet delicate diversion from the subject and the breath-stealing handsomeness possessed by the Earl of Penwick.

Penwick stared out the window of his study, his eyes fixed on the slim elm that reached as high as the roof truss. Accustomed to the view, he was reminded of the paperbark maple which had grown outside his bedchamber window as a youth, a cluster of honeysuckle bushes as its base. He often confided in that tree over the early years of his boyhood. He never actually spoke aloud to the maple, but somehow staring at the strong trunk and outreaching branches helped him solve problems and reduce troubles.

Now, a far cry from his childhood home, the elm served as a poor substitute, but would have to suffice. Life had become decidedly more difficult these last few days. Was it caused by the approaching exchange of marriage vows or had something else insinuated the malaise? Some unnamed instigation prompted the answer of the letters he’d kept under lock and key for longer than he cared to acknowledge. What defect did he possess which held him hostage to a bundle of words and sentiments sent over a year prior and ending in silent abandonment? Hadn’t that one fact revealed the importance he’d assigned the letters wasn’t shared by Lavinia? Life continued and he could spare no time to get lost in circumstances. He exhaled fully, as if by doing so he could release the pent-up anger and shed unresolved emotion.

The elm, like the paperbark maple, listened in silence, its branches stark, the last clinging vestiges of foliage clinging in broken surrender. Here lay a sign. He needed to examine his beliefs, peel away whatever prohibited him from carrying out his well-laid plan to marry Claire. She possessed a fine disposition, kindness of heart and amenable character. She would make a lovely wife. Their days would proceed seamlessly. Endlessly. Somehow the word conjured images of tedium and shallow conversation. He jerked his view from the window and stalked to the liquor decanter on the sideboard, but he didn’t pour a drink. The brandy, rich and golden, full of promise and heated pleasure, sparked an image of Livie’s flowing tresses. A familiar pain creased his chest.

She’d appeared absolutely fetching this morning, wrapped in a woollen blanket, all pink-cheeked disarray, hair mussed as if she’d rolled over in bed and become tangled in the covers. Her face was coloured with a faint blush that heated him more than it likely affected her.

As a man of exacting disposition, he would go mad from this contrary state of mind. Perhaps all he needed to rid this foolish obsession was to confront the misleading proposition. Scratch the itch, so to speak. But he abandoned the thought as quickly as it formed. He would not be a man who kept a mistress while his wife sat at home, and pursuing an unexpected, reckless temptation only ten days from the wedding altar shamed him.

He needed a night of male camaraderie to reinforce his decisions of late. Jasper St David couldn’t be happier with his recent marriage to Emily, and Benedict, Viscount Kellaway and his wife, Angelica, had just celebrated the birth of their son. That was the future he strove to capture; marital bliss and a family to carry his name and title. Continuation of the line was the impetus of the effort to reorder his life.

True, he’d all but abandoned his friends since honing his focus to establish a highly respected stable while adopting the responsibilities of the earldom. He’d lent any spare time to courting Claire. Guilt, as heavy as the morning fog, pressed down on him, but he shook it off, unwilling to accept he’d not offered Claire the attention she deserved.

The realignment of his intentions improved his mood and he stepped towards the door much relieved. He needed to arrange the wedding trip and complete any remaining purchases. Things would proceed as planned. With his reaffirmed purpose and a backward glance to the elm, he made way for the door.

Chapter Ten

Hawkins shifted his position and took a step nearer the wall. Meeting behind a flash-house on the outskirts of London was risky, the ale draper likely to see them if they weren’t careful, but tracking the lost diamonds had become a race across the countryside, and without the goods in hand, he’d be lucky to earn a tenth of the chink promised, failure not an option. He had gambling debts to settle and more than one nobbler reminding him of his vowels. He issued Booth a firm rap on the shoulder to guarantee his attention and simultaneously vent frustration.

‘Two uppity chits were in Lott’s when the footman nabbed the bloomin’ boxes. A visit to the shop is long overdue. Time to make the shopkeeper sing like the footman, then we nab the two fancies because if one of ‘em ‘as the gallies, it’ll be candy from a baby to recover the goods.’

‘‘Ow we supposed to do that? It’s not like we’ll be invited to supper.’

Hawkins cursed a foul oath in reaction to Booth’s shortsightedness and dim wit. ‘We watch the chits and ask a few questions. All information ‘as a price and if that ain’t the bit, the old man’s register should tell us what we need to know.’

Kings Theatre bustled with frenetic anticipation. The performance had garnered dozens of rave reviews and as Dashwood and Wilhelmina took their seats in the box, Livie edged closer to the railing, excited to soak in every nuance of the experience. She’d never attended an opera before and, as a prelude of celebration to her upcoming debut, Dash had reserved a private box for the three of them. Her eyes scanned the interior, taking in the florid detail of the velvet drape as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Low-burning sconces lent intimate lighting above four plush chairs of welcoming comfort. Aunt Kate had begged off and Livie approved as the opera ran well into the wee hours and only the indefatigable survived. She planned to be one of them. It didn’t matter she did not speak Italian and cared little for the composer’s story of a complicated love triangle, the hero betrothed to one and in love with another. Still, Aunt Kate would have admired the lush design of the box, much as she did.

Dressed in a divine creation of gossamer silk sewn in an elegant empire design, Dinah had arranged Livie’s hair in a new style, the length swept into a braided coronet where only a few wispy tendrils floated near her ears and neck. Livie thought the new coiffure presented a demurer style, and while she remained young, on the cusp of celebrating her come-out, she wanted to appear as polished and sophisticated as possible. Most especially if the Earl of Penwick happened to attend the opera this evening.

This final performance of
Amore Tradimento
guaranteed the most avid attendance and she’d wished fervently to see him again, and then, perhaps, happen upon him as he walked through the hall or left his seat for a visit to the coffee room. She’d planned this while Dinah had fussed over her appearance, only pausing in her romantic contemplations when it came time to select her footwear.

Her burgundy-silk mules, embroidered with ribbon florets, showcased her last-minute addition of the bow-shaped shoe clips. They sparkled beautifully and Livie pushed aside the little voice which reminded she needed to return them with haste. She completed her ensemble with pretty silver earbobs and the charm bracelet around her wrist.

‘Here are your opera glasses.’ Wilhelmina appeared by her side and Livie accepted the theatre binoculars with a smile.

‘If only my spectacles could provide such exacting vision.’ She held the opera glasses to her eyes and scanned the crowd, a silent wish accompanying the action.

‘You look adorable in your spectacles.’ Wilhelmina offered a tight squeeze around Livie’s shoulders. ‘Besides, Jasper mentioned only the other day that an innovative process for corrective lenses, which provides improved vision, is being developed. He has great hope it will change the way people see things in the near future.’

A groan chased Livie’s giggle at her sister’s choice of words. ‘Lud, that was the poorest of puns, Whimsy.’

‘It made you laugh, though, didn’t it?’ Wilhelmina reached up and adjusted a stray curl near her ear.

They chatted a few minutes more, but sensing Livie was more interested in the overflowing crowd below the box than in their light conversation, Whimsy returned to her seat where Dash waited. Livie resumed her effort to not appear as though she searched for someone and therewith continued her dedicated surveillance.

‘Who are you looking for with such prudent perseverance?’

This time it was Dash who’d sidled up with a question. Livie stifled a huff of impatience at the interruption.

‘I thought I spied Esme in line for an orchestra seat, but I could be mistaken. The house is a terrible crush this evening.’ Livie exonerated her light fabrication and made a sweep of the gallery, mentally insisting she looked for Esme, though her heart labelled it a lie.

‘Well, be sure to warn me if you see Jasper and Beaufort. I would rather not run into the two buffoons if they’ve attended the performance. I don’t know how Emily manages to contain my brother’s zeal. After an hour or two in his company, I need a long, quiet ride in the country.’

‘She loves him, every part of him, just as Whimsy accepts you.’ Livie spared a minute from behind the binoculars to flash her brother-in-law a cheeky smile.

‘Clever, Livie, but the few flaws I possess are easily overlooked.’

Their light-hearted teasing was a welcome change from Dash’s usual protective temperament.

‘Perhaps.’ A laugh escaped. ‘Although I notice we are having this conversation out of Whimsy’s earshot. I wonder if she would agree were I to share your opinion.’

Dash didn’t wait to discover what Livie planned next and returned to his seat as a hush enveloped the crowd. The lights began to lower as chandeliers were dimmed and an undulation of the enormous red velvet curtains signalled the show would commence shortly. Below, gentlemen and ladies scrabbled to their seats in a kaleidoscope of satin and silk, every colour and design she’d coveted in
Ackermann’s Repository
. A smarter person would have admired the fashion, but she slid the opera glasses across the floor where, in the next blink, she noticed the dance instructor from Monsieur Bournon’s within the crowd. He stared up into the boxes with exacting focus as if he knew she watched him. How peculiar. Startled, she dashed her view to the upper level, scanning each box before she lost the advantage of full lighting. Completing a comprehensive sweep of the right tier, she pivoted to examine the opposite side of the theatre and gasped with her discovery. The Earl of Penwick stood four boxes to the left, on the same level as she.

Except he wasn’t alone.

He looked strikingly handsome in formalwear of black on black, with a white pocket square the only complement to his stark cravat. He could have only just arrived as a silver-knobbed walking stick rested in his gloved hand while the satin top hat he’d removed under her watchful eye was held in the other. Aside him the most perfectly formed creature Livie had ever set eyes upon peered upward to offer Penwick her full attention. The lady couldn’t pull her eyes away and who could blame her? Penwick represented perfection in male form. Livie experienced the same undeniable attraction.

But what of this female? Livie had always held a secret fascination with Esme’s beauty, considering her friend the undiscovered treasure of the ton, but this woman’s creamy porcelain skin and striking colouring eclipsed her best friend on the finest day. Here was a diamond of the first water; refined and delicate, with high cheekbones and luminous eyes, long lashes and golden titian hair that danced delicately around her bare shoulders. The goddess wore a fashionable gown with intricate ruching to display her dainty figure, the ornate neckline revealing a subtle hint of the womanly curves promised beneath. Livie imagined the rest of her silhouette down to petite slippers as perfectly composed, and a pinch of envy dared prod.