Lady Allan peered down the table. “That would be lovely, my lord, but it is such a long trip home so late in the eve.”
“Not to worry, Lady Allan, I have just had a new wing added to Steadham House and would love you and these fine ladies to christen it. I would be more than happy to have you all stay as long as you wish.” He smiled at Pippa. “Besides, I believe your lovely young niece would delight in the sights London has to offer. And it is such a shame for her to be within a day’s travel of such a wondrous city and not get to experience it before she returns to her little provincial town, do you not agree?”
“What do you think, Fredrick? Shall we take Lord Rylee up on his most generous offer?” Lady Allan gave her husband a sweet smile laced with pleading.
Lord Allan chuckled. “If you so wish, dear. I do have a matter I would like to put before the House of Lords before they adjourn for the hot season.”
“Splendid!” Lady Allan nodded. “Then we shall pack tomorrow.”
Despite Heath’s solemnness, Pippa prepared to enjoy the evening of good food and lively conversation. Though she had always eaten well and admired their own cook’s hand in the kitchen, nothing quite prepared her for the overwhelming cornucopia of edibles which graced the table that evening, starting with the Puree Madeline, a cold tomato soup. The second course, entirely of fish made Pippa’s stomach roll, and she fought to keep a smile on her face as cod in oyster sauce, filets of fried whiting with anchovy sauce, and pickled trout were served.
She sneaked a peek at Heath from the corner of her eye. He glanced at her plate, peered around the table and then discretely traded his now near empty plate for her full one. In relief she mouthed, “thank you,” and then turned her attention back to the conversation at hand.
When the entrée of Quenelles with regency sauce, Ballotines of duck with Cumberland sauce and pickled cauliflower was set before her, Pippa couldn’t help a thankful smile. At last food her stomach could not refuse, duck being her personal favorite. By the time three more courses, featuring braised beef with Hussard sauce, roast leg of lamb, pheasant, potato ribbons, spinach bread, pastries with fruit, chocolate profiteroles and Swiss tartlets were done, she doubted she would be able to get up from the table, let alone sit through an evening of a string quartet.
Chapter Nine
They arrived at Viscount Rylee’s London town house at tea time two days later. After ordering refreshments in their rooms, they freshened up and got ready for the costume ball. Pippa straightened her glittering yellow butterfly wings in the mirror. The deep canary color of her gown and the lighter shade of wings complimented her chestnut curls and green eyes. She posed with the reticule embroidered to look like a fragile pink bloom. Yes, the costume was perfect. If she were on the marriage market she had no doubt she would draw some interest tonight. A sigh slipped from her lips. It was too bad this would be her last time to experience the excitement of a ball of this magnitude. Why, it was rumored the Duke and Duchess of Kent were among some of the more famous guests invited. She turned away. At least she would get to relish all the excitement once before she was shunned by the world.
Pippa exited her room and crossed the hall to knock on Percephany’s door.
“Who is it?”
“It is just me, Pippa, come to help you dress, Mrs. Doyle.”
“Come in, darling.”
Pippa grimaced at the sickly sweet summons. It might do to remind Heath not to lay it on so thick.
When she entered she found Heath dressed in breeches, a starched white shirt and tall polished hessian boots. “What are you doing?”
He stretched. “I am going to the ball as a man.”
She stared at him with an incredulous look. “You cannot very well just walk out of this room as Heath. Why, what would my aunt think, not to mention the viscount?”
“How much comment will there be when Percephany goes to the costume ball dressed as a man?” Heath grinned. “It is the perfect costume and one I can at least be comfortable in for an evening. Those awful corsets and heavy petticoats are killing me.”
His plan could not be faulted, but his execution definitely needed work. “Well, if you are going to go as Percephany dressed as Heath, then you still need the corset and…ah…bosoms. After all, a woman as ample as she would have no way to hide those in men’s clothing.”
With a groan he stripped off the shirt. “Fine.”
The sight of his hard bronzed chest made Pippa swallow. He was firmly muscled with well-defined abdominals and a trim waist. It was evident he took great care of his body and was physically fit. It took a moment for her to realize he was staring at her, chemise in hand.
“Do I pass muster, Miss Nickle?”
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she turned away flustered at his observation of her ogling. “Yes, I mean no…. Um…right.”
With a chuckle he drew the chemise over his head. “Was your young squire as manly?”
She choked and then tossed him the two round, quilted pads that made up his artificial breasts. “No, I mean I have not the slightest idea. We are running late, you had better hurry.”
After stuffing the chemise, he tied the string and then held out his hand for the corset. “Please at least spare me more lace. It itches unbearably.”
“I see you are finding playing at being a woman is not so easy, sir.” Pippa grinned.
Heath rolled his eyes. “Just shackle me into the damned thing.” Holding the rosebud pink and mint green stripped confection of satin and whalebone to his waist he turned to submit to being laced. Afterward he put the white shirt back over top and then shrugged into his waist coat. Frowning he pulled the edges together. “Well this will not do. I can button the bottom, but these damned breasts will not allow the top ones to be done up.”
“That is the cost of being a woman, Heath,” Pippa snickered.
He glared at her. “I cannot just walk around with my chest hanging out, now can I?”
Pippa studied his appearance with a critical eye. “Your shirt covers everything of importance and a good wide cravat will conceal your Adams apple.”
Leaving the top three buttons undone, Heath shrugged into an expensively tailored dress coat. Where it should have fit snugly along his waist, it now gaped yet stretched taunt across his shoulders. “I must say Percephany’s bulk is an insult to a world class tailor.”
“Yes, I must agree with you there, sir.”
He favored her with a grin and a twinkle in his eye. “Right, I suppose you may make up my face.”
“You should add a cravat first,” Pippa reminded him.
“Good Lord, I had almost forgotten how to dress as a man.”
Pippa giggled. “Well, I do hope you have not forgotten how to tie one, because I am afraid that is quite out of the realm of my expertise, sir.”
“As a matter in fact I do.” He crossed to the mirror and picked up a frothy pile of white lace from the dressing table. “I have made do without my valet on a few occasions when one would be considered oddly out of place during a few of my investigations.”
She followed his movements as he arranged the cravat about his neck and carefully knotted it. “So, you are a career spy?”
“I suppose you might say that. That is to say, I have done my share in support of his majesty.” Once he was satisfied with the position of the neck piece, he secured it in place with a diamond stick pin. “All right, face paint time.” He sat on the stool.
“You might want to do something about the stubble, sir,” Pippa pointed out.
Heath ran a hand across his chin. “I agree.” He handed Pippa a straight blade and a cup of shaving cream.
Shaking her head Pippa stepped back. “You cannot be serious. I have never shaved a man before.”
“It is not that hard. I would do it myself, but I am afraid I would miss too many spots.” He grinned. “We would not want Percephany to look like an ape now, would we?”
“Fine.” Pippa snatched the blade. “Do not grouse if
I accidently slit your throat, sir.”
He gave her a wry grin in the mirror and lathered his face. “I doubt very much it would be an accident, Miss Nickle.”
“You might be right about that,” Pippa grumbled.
Pippa was quite proud of herself by the time the deed was done. She wiped the last trace of cream from Heath’s chin. “Who knew I would make such a fine valet?”
“Indeed.” Heath studied his reflection in the mirror, turning his head this way and that. “I might have to hire you and fire Reginald.”
Pippa rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on the towel. “I doubt your fiancée would like that over much.”
“You are most likely right. I am sure she would think I would be too tempted and be the one doing the undressing.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
Pippa gasped and cast him a sour look. “Are you flirting with me, sir?”
“It is Heath, and would you like me to?”
She thought on it for a second. Every woman liked to be flirted with, however inappropriate it was. Soon she would be so fat no man, or woman, would even look her way. Her sigh lingered in the room. “Keep your flirting for the men tonight, Percephany.”
He grimaced and then put on his wig of golden curls. “I dare not. Be sure to stick close to Lord Rylee. I am certain his is a name I have heard whispered about as a supporter of Charlotte’s. It should be easy for you to glean some information out of him since he is so obviously smitten with you.”
Pippa froze. “He is not. What makes you say that?”
Heath shook his head. “He could not take his eyes off you all night at the dinner party and he talked almost solely to you.”
“He was only being kind.”
“Right.” Heath stood and tweaked his cravat. “Any man who spends the evening listening to stories about a provincial merchant’s daughter’s life is just bored.”
She pressed her lips together. “The squire’s son was smitten with me…. At least I thought he was, and he simply talked about himself….”
“I rest my case,” Heath drawled, and drew on his gloves.
Was Heath right? The squire’s son was the only boy-man who had ever paid her any interest before. She handed Heath his reticule. It was too bad she had nothing to offer a man now, especially one as nice and titled as the viscount.
* * *
Beeswax mingled with sweat, perfume, floral scents, and ripe bodies made Pippa’s eyes water as she and Percephany squeezed their way through the crush of bodies. “There is hardly room to move in here, never mind dance.”
Heath nodded and pressed stiff-lipped through the crowd. “This is one of the worst crushes I’ve seen in a while. It is all on account of the Duke and Duchess of Kent’s presence. You cannot get much closer to royalty than them.”
Pippa scanned the swirling colored fabric. “Where are they? I do not see anyone who looks like royalty.”
Heath’s eyes twinkled and he pushed the fake mustache firmer to his upper lip. “You were expecting gold crowns and royal guards?”
“Well, not exactly, I suppose.”
He towed Pippa to a couple of empty chairs to the right of a clump of potted palms. Once they were seated, he gestured discreetly with his fan. “See the gentleman in the knight’s costume and the princess beside him?”
Pippa peered at the couple near the refreshment table. “Yes.”
“That is the Duke and Duchess of Kent.”
She frowned. “How do you know beneath the costumes?”
Heath chuckled. “Believe me, there are few taller than the duke, and the duchess was and is considered to be quite incomparable.”
The duchess was indeed beautiful. Pippa studied the raven haired beauty. Her every movement from the flick of a finger to the tilt of her head bespoke grace and class. Her exotic mocha skin and narrow heavily lashed almond eyes were what really drew Pippa’s attention. “I have never seen anyone of her skin tone before.”
“She is a Moroccan princess.”
Lady Allan and Marcy emerged from the crowd and claimed the seats on the other side of Pippa. “I seem to have lost my husband,” Lady Allan tittered.
“He is right over there next to Lord Fits and Lord Tearny,” Heath supplied in Percephany’s high pitched voice.
“Oh, right you are.” Lady Allan peered at Heath with a puzzled expression. “How is it you know either gentleman, Mrs. Doyle?”
Heath cleared his throat. “Oh…um, well, a few years ago my husband had some business dealings with them both, something about a shipyard and some special wood needed for a hull, or some such thing.”
“I see.” Appearing to accept the explanation Lady Allan turned to Pippa. “Oh, look dear, here comes your handsome young Viscount Rylee.”
The viscount made his way through the crowd with two glasses in his hand. He came to a halt before Pippa. “I have taken the liberty of obtaining you a glass of sherry, Miss Nickle.”
Before Pippa could thank him, Heath reached out and plucked the glass from his fingers. “Oh dear no, young man, I would be a poor chaperone indeed if I allowed a genteel young miss, such as my charge here, to sully her reputation with drink.”
Lord Rylee’s jaw dropped and he stood there almost as if undecided for a moment. “Oh…I see…. Well then, I hope I will not be over-stepping my bounds by retrieving a glass of lemonade for your charge instead?”
Heath took a deep swallow of the sherry and then tipped his head. “That is a much more respectable choice, Lord Rylee.”
When the viscount headed back to the refreshment table, Pippa clenched her teeth and ground out under her breath, “That was rude!”
Under the pretense of straightening Pippa’s butterfly wings Heath leaned over and muttered, “Have you forgotten about the babe you carry?”
“As if I could,” she shot back, annoyed he was right and that she had forgotten about her condition for a moment. “Besides, one drink could not possibly hurt.”
Marcy leaned over. “Your costume seems to be drawing a lot of attention, Percephany.”
Pippa glanced around. A rather daunting number of men and women alike seemed to be staring in their direction. “Oh, my.” Her perusal met with that of an older gentleman who put his quizzing glass to his eye and openly stared. Realizing he had been caught in an ungentlemanly act, he inclined his head and then hobbled in their direction.
The elder man came to a halt before them. “Good evening, ladies. Lady Allan, may I acquire an introduction to your lovely guests?” He bestowed a special smile on Percephany as he raised Lady Allan’s hand to his lips.
Lady Allan accepted his light kiss on the back of her hand. “Of course. Ladies, I am pleased to acquaint you with Lord Atworthy, a friend of my husband’s. Lord Atworthy, allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Allan, my niece from the country, Miss Pippa Nickle, and her paternal cousin, Mrs. Doyle.”
Lord Atworthy bowed to the young ladies and then took Heath’s hand in his. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Doyle. You are a vision of loveliness, if your husband does not mind me saying.”
Heath looked flustered for a moment, and Lady Allan interjected, “Mrs. Doyle has been widowed well over a year now, my lord, so surely he will not mind your over-kind compliment.”
Pippa didn’t miss the tiny groan which slipped from Heath’s lips. For her own amusement, she decided to sit back and enjoy the conversation to come at Heath’s expense, rather than attempt to save him from his fate.
“How kind of you to say, my lord,” Heath squeaked.
Lord Atworthy smiled, displaying a gap in his mouth which once housed his front teeth. “A very daring gentleman’s costume you have donned tonight. I see there are no names as of yet on your dance card. Let me be the first to reserve a dance, or two.” He held out his hand.
Heath darted a wide-eyed look in Pippa’s direction. “It has been many, many years since I did dance, my lord, and only simple country steps. I am quite sure I could not manage a waltz, which
is all the rage here.”
“Nonsense, I imagine you to be a superb dancer, and besides, I am still spry enough to teach you the steps.”
The stiff smile pressed to Heath’s lips failed to cover the horror in his eyes as the elderly man stooped to write his name—not once, not twice—but five times on the dance card secured to Percephany’s wrist.
Just as Lord Atworthy finished, the tune ended and the orchestra struck up a lively waltz. “Ah, just in time. I believe you promised me this dance, Mrs. Doyle.”
“I did?” Heath yelped.
Pippa plied her fan with extra vigor to hide her amusement, as Heath was practically dragged out onto the dance floor by his arthritic partner.
Lady Allan nodded in apparent approval. “Mrs. Doyle could do a lot worse than his lordship. Why, he is very well respected at Almack’s and quite the scholar.”
Viscount Rylee returned with a cool glass of lemonade for Pippa, and Lord Allan in tow with glasses for his wife and daughter. The viscount took Percephany’s vacated seat. “Is this your first costume ball?”
“No, though ours back home are not as formal, or lavish as this.” Pippa took in the room full of swirling fabric and swaying bodies. The room of ivory tile and mirrors was done up in Grecian décor. Small pillars graced the corners displaying busts of half-naked women and thoughtful looking men. Lilacs and primroses gathered in green boughs of fern added splashes of color and a heady perfume to the air.
“I should like to ask your uncle’s permission to court you, Miss Nickle, and show you all that our great city has to offer. I am sure you will delight in the museums, theater, and other events here, and,” he favored her with a soft smile, “I hope you will come to enjoy my company, so much so that perhaps you might consent to stay?”
Taken aback by his candor Pippa sputtered on her drink. Stalling, she accepted his offered embroidered handkerchief. Dear Lord! Just how am I supposed to dissuade his attentions? In truth, she dearly wanted to see all the great city had to offer. And had Heath not desired her to get closer to the viscount for intelligence reasons? Yet, just how could she do so without leading the gentleman on? Her experience with Mitchel had left her wiser to the opposite gender’s goals, and she had no desire to find herself in another disastrous situation. Although, if she were being entirely honest, could things get worse than the pickle brine she was now swimming in?
Corseting The Earl Page 6
