His Forbidden Debutante

by Anabelle Bryant

  ‘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.’

  ‘We’ll be in all the papers, boss.’ The shorter, dull-looking fellow – named Booth, apparently – seemed to take joy in the possibility, but the taller man sneered a look of annoyance and advanced a menacing step. Livie clenched her slipper against her stomach, wishing she stood aside Esme who was a full two strides away and near the corner of the building leading to the street. If any chance at escape to summon help existed, the action would fall to Esme.

  ‘I’ve been watchin’ you, gel.’ Hawkins emitted a satisfied grunt. ‘Ever since I skimmed the old man’s register book.’

  Livie caught her breath at the menacing stranger’s comment, the implications of his threatening tone louder than his troubling statement.

  ‘Now make nice and ‘and over the diamond clips. Then neither of you fine ladies need get ‘urt unless you enjoy that sort of thing.’ An ugly laugh punctuated his horrid statement and he waggled his brows to lend lascivious insight to his disturbed intentions.

  At the mention of the shoe clips, Livie’s gaze shot to Esme aimed for silent communication. She’d only just given the clips to her friend and now they would place Esme in harm’s way. She couldn’t allow it to happen. But would Esme understand the meagre opportunity and flee around the corner?

  ‘So, I’ve my eye on the wrong bird, then?’ The intimidating man cast a quick look over his shoulder. ‘Search the gel, Booth, and be sure to probe every ‘iding place. Enjoy yourself, why don’t you?’

  With a snicker of derelict laughter, the miscreant grasped Esme’s arm and yanked her forward. ‘Right.’ He grinned, his teeth a dark shade of neglect. ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

  ‘No. Stop.’ Wielding her slipper, Livie launched at the foul stranger and, with every ounce of rebellion, struck at the man’s head with the heel. She connected with a solid knock, but once recovered from the brief ambush, Booth shoved her away with such force, she stumbled backwards and into the arms of the taller, meaner-looking cur who’d watched and waited with blatant amusement. The bottoms of her stockings tore from the sharp filth of the alley to bite at the soles of her feet. Before she could take a breath, he’d locked her to his length, one arm fastened around her middle, his repulsive body plastered to her back. He leaned in, pushing his face against her cheek, and his stale breath sent a revolting shudder ripping through her. She recoiled with fear and wretched disgust, letting out a scream of objection which provoked him to clamp a foul-smelling palm over her mouth in tight suffocation of the sound. Her stomach heaved at the press of his hand against her skin, her eyes flared wide.

  ‘Now why do you want to ruin our little get-together, ladies?’

  Booth chuckled and grabbed at the ribbons near Esme’s collar. ‘She’s a pretty ‘un, too, boss. Nice ‘n clean.’

  ‘Shut your bone box and get on with it. I can’t ‘old this one still all day. She’s kicking my shins with ‘er bare feet and squirming like a fish. I’ll not ‘ave ‘er find my whirlygigs and put me down.’ Hawkins’ harsh command brought the other miscreant to sharp attention.

  Livie still grasped the shoe, but the stranger held her so firmly, his arm wrapped to pin hers at her sides, the slipper was useless. Meanwhile she watched with horror as Booth ran a palm across Esme’s bodice.

  ‘Soft round bubs on this ‘un.’ He sneered a smile. ‘Curse of the devil we ‘ave no time for me to taste a bit of mutton? I can be quick.’

  Esme went white, pale as death, and Livie feared her friend would faint from the horror, rendering her helpless to the cur’s despicable advances and eradicating any hope she would flee and return with help. Summoning every ounce of courage on Esme’s behalf and suffocating her revulsion at her chosen task, Livie gave a violent twist at the same time she bit into the thief’s palm with precise success. The fool had become distracted with Booth’s exploration and her ambush stunned him long enough to loosen his hold across her mouth. With that, Livie pushed out words as quickly as possible.

  ‘No. Leave her alone. You want me. I have the clips. I’ll give them to you. I have the diamonds.’ The confession rushed forth in a panicked tumble, but it succeeded in catching the thieves’ attention.

  ‘Run, Esme. Run and get help.’ The shrieked plea slapped Esme into action and, at last, she darted towards the corner, evading Booth’s delayed attempt to capture her by the skirts.

  ‘Let her go. We ‘ave what we want right ‘ere, long as the gel knows not to try that little trick again.’ Hawkins slapped his hand across Livie’s mouth so tight his fingers pinched her lips against her teeth. Tears burned the inside of her lids. She attempted to shake him off and her spectacles slipped downward. With the fear her glasses would fall and render her at a grave disadvantage, she stilled, but the telling action revealed too much.

  ‘Let me ‘elp you.’ With a cruel chuckle, Hawkins removed her glasses while his hold around her arms tightened, twisting and bruising her skin.

  Everything became a blur. Oh, lord, what had he done with her spectacles?

  ‘Bring the gig round and make ‘aste. No tellin’ when the other gel may return and who she might bring with ‘er.’

  Defeated, Livie remained utterly still. With the way she was caught against the thief’s body, her head pulled sharp, her movements were limited, otherwise the lengths of her hair would be yanked from her scalp. He’d effectively subdued her and she cursed herself for falling prey to such a low-level fool.

  With surprising speed, the gig appeared and, hampered by the volume and weight of her skirts, she was dragged, shoved and bundled into the conveyance, all the while restricted from movement against the offensive body of the man called Hawkins. She dropped her shoe at the last moment, a desperate attempt to leave behind some clue in the alley, for otherwise she would have disappeared without a trace. With hope, Esme would summon the law and return to Kirby Park. But how would they ever find her? Dash would be furious and with that he would act, but good heavens, her sister and Aunt Kate would be terrified for her safety.

  How had everything unravelled? Those blasted shoe clips. At least Esme had them safely tucked in her reticule, but what would become of Livie when the thieves discovered she’d lied and hadn’t the diamonds as promised? Worse yet, how would they go about searching her to determine if she told the truth? Her stomach roiled at the imagined atrocities.

  Inside the gig, despite her visual impairment, a long strip of dirty cloth was used to blindfold her eyes and bind her wrists. She was huddled on the bare wooden bench, too pensive to become emotional. No one would find her, her shoe a desperate attempt to prove her abduction. The stark reality of her situation settled with weighty despair. It remained in her power alone to land on her feet and survive.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘I’ll have no part of this, Jonathan.’ Claire’s voice trembled with a somewhat miraculous show of bravery as she attempted to waylay her brother. Unfortunately, Penwick knew she’d be thwarted if not altogether ignored.

  ‘That’s not what you said when I promised you’d marry an earl.’ Allington chuckled, low and sharp. ‘Do you really think a man of title would be interested in a commoner, a girl of lower status in society? Foolish assumption, dear sister. You can’t possibly be more obtuse than I assumed? Father’s wealth can buy many things, but a title is not one of them unless, of course, you consider our plan. Now you will have w
hat you want and I will have it all.’

  ‘Father will be angry.’ Her whisper lacked any trace of conviction. ‘I never consented to violence. You said it was a matter of business negotiations. You said…’

  ‘Shut it. Father will not risk reputation. I know the old man better than you ever shall, never mind you’re his blood and I’m his bastard. Lest you forget, Father will not live for ever, so disobeying me will lead you to a very unhappy future.’ He paused and lent a hard stare in her direction. ‘Now go. I grow tired of your redundancies. We discussed the intricacies of this plan before it was ever set into motion. I’ll not renege when I’m so close to my goal.’

  Penwick cursed softly, not wishing to draw further attention, but angry he hadn’t seen signs of Allington’s delusional vision for the future. How had he arrived at this critical juncture? Had he not been so turned inside out by Livie’s letters… Livie.

  Bloody hell, she would believe him the despicable heel she’d accused him of exemplifying the other morning. The remembrance of her sweet body beside his kept determination clear. He would overpower Allington at the first opportunity and find his way out of this mess.

  He breathed deep, taking in the smell of fresh hay and barley. Allington had dumped him in the stable in a sly and cowardly machination of an apparent plan with Claire as counterpart. This seemed the only explanation that made sense. His physical debilitation was solved in easier fashion. The sluggish sensation coursing through his veins was laudanum; just enough in his brandy to dull his reactions, fog his mind and allow Allington the advantage to overtake and deposit him in the stables. But what the man had in store forthwith remained a dangerous proposition. The wedding, yes, but with what end result?

  ‘Leave now, Claire. Follow the plan and don’t complicate things any more than you have already.’ Allington’s order brooked no contradiction.

  Claire flicked her eyes to the stall and settled her gaze on Penwick, prone and quiet on the hay-covered floor, but she said not another word and hurried from the stable soon after.