by Linda Wright
Elizabeth’s felt her eyes nearly pop out of her head, “I thought you were thirty.”
“Heavens no, I’m twenty-six, but I take my responsibilities very seriously. I’ll take good care of my dependants. Well?” He licked his lips and took a deep breath before asking in a soft hopeful tone, “Will you marry me and be my lucky penny?”
Elizabeth could feel her Aunt and Uncle staring at her, silently willing her to accept the boorish man’s proposal so they could be free of her. She was desperate to be free of them as well, but marriage to the man opposite was impossible. “No.” The tight little word barely travelled beyond her plate.
The man had an odd anxious look as if he was suddenly afraid of rejection. “Penny, I want to marry you and make your wishes come true. We can leave today for London for a special license or drive to Scotland and be married over an anvil. They say it’s romantic, if a bit noisy.”
“My Lord…” Elizabeth cursed her ill-luck as she suddenly felt sorry for the man. If he always smelled this awful, he’d probably received a long list of refusals. Another rejection would understandably hurt him. “I’m…” He leaned towards her as if enthralled by expectation. “…I’m sorry my Lord, but I can’t marry you.”
“Penny…” Elizabeth jumped as the man’s knife and spoon crashed onto his china plate. His quivering lips looked rouged against pallid flesh. “…are you rejecting my offer of marriage?”
“I’m terribly sorry my Lord.” He looked as if she was refusing to help rescue him from certain death. Elizabeth could hear her dragon Aunt Angela sucking in her breath for a fiery tirade.
“Elizabeth Morgan.”
“Penny…if there’s anything I could do to make myself more agreeable…I didn’t think I repulsed you.”
Elizabeth looked the man in the eyes and briefly wondered if he could be taught some manners. He was a little old to be changing his ways, but those brown eyes had an intensity that made her question herself. The thought of being naked with the warm brown eyes and electric hands made her heart race and her stomach heave. The man was attractive, but not for a lady with a nose. “You’re a good man my Lord. I’m sure you’ll make some poor…I mean some woman feel lucky. I’m sorry it can’t be me.” Her words seemed to shroud the man in unhappiness. “Don’t be upset my Lord; you’re five years younger than me. You’re bound to find a prettier debutante who’ll give you a dozen infants. I don’t think I could make you happy; I’m sorry.” The man’s knife and fork chinked loudly in the silent room as he politely set them down on his plate together and stood up removing the napkin tucked into his waistcoat. Dropping it on the table next to his plate, he silently made her a regal bow. Swivelling on his heel he left the room. The tapping of his leather soles brought to mind an exotic lonely bird, calling for its mate. Elizabeth shivered with fear as she heard her Aunt Angela stand up.
“If you’re unable to persuade Lord Devonshire to forgive your inexcusable stupidity, you’ll be packing your bags. My daughter, Sophia, is in need of a new companion. The last silly chit she hired proved as shameless as the rest. Lady Sophia is tired of training up another servant only to learn five months later the slut has got with child by some wretched admirer. We expect better behaviour from our own flesh and blood.” It was Elizabeth’s turn to feel the blood drain from her face. She knew the admirer responsible was Sophia’s husband whose roving lust was excused because of his title. A Viscount, the impoverished Lord Llewellyn had raised Sophia from being a Miss Morgan to being a Lady; a fact Sophia enjoyed reminding Elizabeth at every opportunity. It was almost tempting to accept Lord Devonshire’s proposal just to be a countess and outrank her pompous cousin, but the fear of being ravished was more pressing.
“You know I can’t live with Sophia; Lord Llewellyn was my suitor. I thought he was going to marry me. I can’t live in the man’s house.”
“Then I suggest you persuade Lord Devonshire you’ve had a change of heart. Those are your options.”
“Why can’t I go live with Cousin Georgina? She always needs help in her nursery.”
“Georgina thinks you’re unlucky. She doesn’t want you cursing her precious offspring with your gloomy shadow of doom.”
“Doesn’t Cousin Reggie need a housekeeper? He never looks at me and it could hardly be…”
“I certainly wouldn’t inflict my favourite nephew with his worst nightmare. Now go snare Lord Devonshire or suffer the consequences.”
Chapter 5
James walked from the dining room mentally sneering congratulations at himself. He’d won the perfect wager; Doodle would lose his lucky snuff box. The thought left James unmoved. The luxurious throbbing that occurred every time he looked at or thought about Miss Elizabeth Morgan had suddenly become a painful ache as if her refusal had somehow unsettled the flow of his blood. Everything was unfolding just as he’d planned so why did he feel like a tree struck in half by lightning, his heart exposed to the elements? There was no logical reason why he should feel upset or dejected. He didn’t want to marry Miss Morgan, but somehow at the same time he did. James wasn’t used to simultaneously processing opposite emotions. He felt like someone had taken two files out of his mental chest of drawers and dumped them on the floor of his soul. He’d asked a woman to marry him and she’d turned him down. That should have produced a feeling of completion, but instead he felt undone.
On the way to his room he ordered his carriage and as many cans of hot or cold water the kitchen could immediately send to his room. He had to bathe before he went mad and killed himself to escape his stench. As soon as his chamber door was closed behind him he tore off his clothes and threw the rank bundle wrapped around his shoes out the nearest window with relish. The arrival of water and towels momentarily distracted James from his inner turmoil. He didn’t care if the single bar of soap wasn’t his usual regimented two inches thick or that the two towels had been dumped on the table next to his bath at odd angles with the edges of the table.
Once he was scrubbed red from head to toe his cleanliness was an uncomfortable reminder of the scene by the wishing well. If he’d been clean she might have said yes. He rolled his eyes at his body’s euphoric response to the thought. He was a grown man not a green boy. He’d been firmly rejected; he was leaving. It’s what she expected. It was what he wanted; at least it was what half of him wanted.
Twenty minutes later he was pulling on his hat as he stepped out into the sunshine. The gravel crunched under his boots as he approached his carriage. There was no sign of the uncouth gentleman who’d arrived a week earlier. His footman opened his carriage door an exact one hundred and thirty-five degree angle and stood at attention as James stared glumly into his empty carriage. He sternly reminded himself that he had no intention of carrying away a bride, but part of him was desperate to drive away with his new found penny. He put a foot on the first step, but was halted by luxurious throbbing caused by thoughts of pushing Miss Elizabeth into his carriage. “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.” His two footmen looked at each other in disbelief as James took his boot off the step and hurried back towards the house. Their fastidious employer had never been known to forget anything.
Like a man intent on walking the plank into shark infested waters James followed a maid to Elizabeth’s chamber door and then waited until the servant was out of sight before knocking three times. It was complete madness. He barely knew the woman. She was five years older. She thought him a stinking mannerless bore, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her. She made him laugh. She made him feel… His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet approaching the other side of the closed door.
“Yes?”
“Miss Penny…it’s me, Lord Devonshire.” The other side of the door was silent. “I’ve had a bath. I need to speak with you in private. Are you crying? Miss Penny…” He tried the door handle, but it was locked. “Why are you crying?”
“Go away.”
“I can’t leave my lucky penny…”
“You don’
t want me, I’m cursed. They call me Cilla, the seal of doom.”
“Don’t you mean Cilla the silly penny? There’s no such thing as curses. Luck is more often a matter of choice than fate. Open the door; I can’t bear to hear you crying.”
“Go away, before I ruin your life.”
“There’s something I need to tell you and it’s not something I can say through a keyhole. I’ve had a thorough scrub and I’m wearing clean clothes…”
“Then I’m definitely not opening the door.”
“Penny please…” James rested his forehead on the door. “…I don’t want to leave without you. Do you expect me to leave without seeing you? Won’t you let me kiss you goodbye…on the hand?” After an eternal five minutes of silence James felt his heart knocking on his ribs demanding satisfaction. “Miss Penny my carriage is waiting; come away with me. We can reach London by this evening…”
“Don’t tempt me; just go.”
He could hear footsteps retreat from the door and then silence. What if he never saw her again? He groaned in disgust at his feelings of horror. Had he lost his mind? Did it matter? He knocked five times on the door with Lordly determination, but he hammered his knuckles in vain. There was no answer from the other side. He stood caressing the door handle trying to pretend it was still warm from Elizabeth’s touch until two maids walked past giggling in-between whispers. Feeling stupid James straightened and knocked one more time. “I’m leaving!”
“Good. You’ll escape the curse.”
“Miss Penny, I…” Another servant slowly wandered past eyeing him with curiosity.
“Do you mind? I’m having a private conversation.” The servant raised an eyebrow, snorted in contempt and disappeared around a corner. “Miss Penny…won’t you open the door?”
“Never.”
“Then I guess this is goodbye…goodbye Miss Penny…” Denied a reply, James caressed the door handle one more time before walking away feeling incomplete and yet relieved that he was miraculously still a free man. Climbing into his carriage he strangled an insane desire to kidnap the old maid and forced himself to mentally organise his immediate future. After returning home and packing his trunks, he’d spend the rest of the year in Bath. He’d ensure he was introduced to all the marriageable young beauties and with luck he’d soon forget the luscious Miss Penny. With his plans formulated he relaxed into the jostling rhythm of the carriage as melancholy settled over him like a dusty ancient cloak infested with bedbugs.
Chapter 6
November 19th 1814, Bath
The bookshop’s green door opened and closed every few minutes as wealthy patrons bored with drinking sulphurous mineral water and gossiping at Bath’s Assembly Rooms came in search of entertainment. Waiting in line to purchase an unspecified romance novel for her cousin Sophia, Elizabeth clenched her teeth in irritation as several young men rudely cut in front of her. Her cousin would blame her for dithering. The thought of enduring another of her cousin’s condescending sermons before lunch filled her with loathing. Action was required. She opened her large reticule and took out the unfinished piece of embroidery stabbed through with her largest needle and pretended to start to take a stitch as she stabbed the young man in front of her. A satisfying yelp was swiftly followed by a glare. “What the devil are you doing needlework in a bookshop for? Are you mad?”
“If people will cut in front of me I might as well get some work done.”
“Ouch!”
“I’m terribly sorry, did I jab you again?”
“Harpy!” The young man looked at his friend as if to say, ‘the lady’s mad’ as they stepped out of line leaving Elizabeth her proper place. Her embroidery disappeared back into her reticule as she approached the counter and requested the latest romance novel. Having no idea which books her cousin had read, she purchased the suggested book and fought her way back towards the door. Through the shop’s bowed window she could see her cousin talking to a fashionable man gracefully leaning on a walking stick, his back to the window. By the coquettish expression on her cousin’s face the man was handsome and good ton. Stepping out into the cold north-easterly wind Elizabeth shivered and dodged several oblivious shoppers to reach her cousin. Knowing her cousin wouldn’t want to be interrupted she stopped behind the man to wait for him to walk on. Her heart started pounding as the fashionable man’s voice penetrated her thick wool pelisse and made her shiver with delight. Entranced, she inched closer until her nose detected understated cologne that melled perfectly with a faint trace of shaving soap and the pungent aroma of a smoke filled coffee house. Her heart settled into an up-tempo rhythm as her eyes slid up the masculine back to the pristine white cravat hiding his neck and the trimmed brown hair combed carefully into place. Deaf to the conversation she inched around until she could see his profile.
Entranced by his transformation and the pleasure of seeing him in the flesh, Elizabeth forgot her cousin until the woman screeched, “Elizabeth Morgan, you’re an embarrassment! If you’re going to act like a dying haddock every time you see a handsome man I’ll leave you in the carriage.”
The elegant man started, his cheeks suddenly rouged as he swivelled to return Elizabeth’s stare. “Miss Penny…” He politely lifted his hat as his face lit up with delight. “…I didn’t know you were in Bath. Tell me you’re staying the winter?” The question had an intensity that made Elizabeth shiver with hope. Would he ask her to marry him again? Staring into smiling eyes her heart ached with pleasure as that strange electric magnetism told her he’d extended his glove. Her cold hand flew to the offered perch like an obedient dove returning home. “My lucky Penny, you enchant me…” Elizabeth forgot to breathe as he leaned over and kissed the back of her white glove with just the right amount of adoration and respect one would expect from a keen suitor. He was still holding her hand as her cousin disturbed the magic moment.
“You’re acquainted with my unlucky cousin my Lord?”
Lord Devonshire didn’t take his eyes off Penny’s face. “Last month; I stayed at your parent’s home for a week.”
Sophia’s eyes lit up with cruel amusement, “You’re the man Elizabeth refused? I didn’t recognise you in my mother’s description. I thought she misspelled the name…” The woman’s face contorted with jealousy as she eyed her unpaid companion with spite. “…I heard you won a wager to get an old maid to turn you down, I had no idea it was our Elizabeth. You had a lucky escape my Lord; my cousin is the unluckiest woman ever born. Doom follows her like night follows day. The only reason I told Mother I’d take her is that I need a companion who’ll stay out of the footman’s bed. Mother was terribly upset at failing again to get rid of her. Elizabeth, stop staring at his Lordship and give me my book.” Her head spinning as if she’d been slapped, Elizabeth pulled her hand free from Lord Devonshire’s possession and after a scathing look of scorn at the grimacing man she turned away and thrust the book at her cousin. “What is this? I told you I wanted the latest romance not one I read six months ago. Take it back and get me one I haven’t read.”
“But I don’t know what you haven’t read.”
“Don’t be impertinent or I’ll send you to your sister. You’d be lucky if she let you sleep with her pigs.” With tears in her eyes Elizabeth spun on her heel and rushed back into the shop with the book, relieved to have an excuse to run away. The man was a cruel thoughtless cad. His dramatic pleadings at her chamber door had been nothing, but a cruel finale; something to brag about to his snotty friends. She wished she’d given in to the temptation to accept him. He wouldn’t have been laughing with his friends with an old wife in tow. The heartless cad obviously didn’t care if he broke an old maid’s heart, but at least her inner organs were safe. The sensation of a sharp blade turning in her chest mocked the thought as warm tears slid down her cold cheeks. Wiping her face she reached the counter and asked the shopkeeper if she could exchange the book because her Mistress had already read it. The man refused saying he ran a bookshop not a lending library. Her cous
in would blame her and it was all Lord Devonshire’s fault; the horrid swine was probably laughing at her.
She was about to turn around when the hairs on the back of her neck crackled with a familiar electric charge. Her heart was pounding before she smelled him at her shoulder. “The latest romance for Miss Morgan; one she could not have possibly read before this week.” The Lordly demand was obeyed without question. Her eyes swivelled to watch as one pristine buff glove was removed revealing impeccable fingernails that reached into his pocket. If she hadn’t seen the man picking his nose at table, she’d never have believed the majestic fingers capable of such rudeness. “Keep the change.”
