by Linda Wright
Chapter 14
As the mantel clock struck midnight, the Duke of Strathmore was sitting on his bed in his quilted silk dressing gown, his feet propped against a hot water bottle. With his last pipe of the day tucked in the corner of his mouth he was glancing through a magazine when a light knock on the door pulled him back to the present. It was probably his friend come to wish him good night. “Come.” Peering over the rims of his reading spectacles his lips twisted in disgust as Agnes, balancing a tea tray on her hip, closed the door behind her and approached his side of the bed. She stood there staring at him with that frozen enigmatic look that said nothing, yet somehow conveyed an impression of contempt.
“I brought you a pot of warm honey-milk.” She set the tray on the bedside table and then returned to staring at him.
“Thank you Mrs Smirke.” Strathmore sighed in irritation as she eyed him like a flea under a microscope. “Madam, is your husband having difficulties performing his conjugal duties or is this just a midnight social visit? Either way, I’m not in the mood.”
Her eyes raked over the length of his person and then looked him in the eyes. “The day I’m tempted by your scrawny limbs Strathmore, I’ll be chained in Bedlam.”
“That’s a relief Madam; I find you as alluring as an empty coffin on a perfect day. If I’d been forced to wed you, you wouldn’t ever have died in childbed.”
Agnes pursed her lips, but it was impossible to tell if she was amused or irritated. “James says you loved your wife. Of course that would have required a heart. I find it difficult to believe such an organ resides in your chest.”
“You’ll have to take my word Madam that I have one. I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to carve open my rib cage to prove a point.”
“It’s just as well. Your blood would ruin my bedclothes.”
“So to what sin do I owe the purgatory of your presence Madam?”
“My curiosity was aroused this afternoon by Lord Devonshire’s dramatic demand for lost letters. While you and James were smoking in the study early this evening I ordered the carriage and called on Miss Elizabeth Morgan. It was quite illuminating; Lady Sophia was in hysterics at the thought of her old maid cousin becoming a Duchess. Lord Llewellyn had an ugly head wound where his wife had thrown a vase after he unwisely refused to call you out and your supposed fiancé was locked in her chamber sobbing for Lord Devonshire. Her trunks were packed for what I suspect was a one way trip against her will to some uncivilised colony where you’d never find her. On learning that I too thought you a heartless fiend Miss Elizabeth was exceedingly loquacious…aren’t you going to ask me what happened next?”
“I assume you’re about to tell me…there’s no torment in silence.”
“True; on finding me in her cousin’s room Lady Sophia abused me roundly as your accomplice. I then gave Lady Sophia some pointers on running a smooth household and removed Miss Morgan to somewhere safe.”
“Is that all? I was hoping to get some sleep tonight.”
“You certainly won’t have to worry about Captain Foster disappearing with your unwilling bride…I’ve taken care of him.”
“What did you do, give him the kiss of death?”
“Did you know your cousin Gwen was in town to take the waters? Apparently she’s been suffering from some sort of bilious complaint; probably due to eating too much marzipan. She’s a beautiful intelligent woman and desperate, as you know, to marry before her brother spends her dowry. It’s a pity her penchant for pirates seems to irritate most men. I would have thought they’d be keen for an excuse to swagger about singing, ‘What Shall We Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor?’.”
Strathmore sat up straight, his eyes protruding in horror as the unthinkable was given weight by Agnes’s cold smile. “You didn’t. You couldn’t. Blast you!”
“I was quite lucky. I found her at home dressed to go to the Assembly rooms for the evening entertainment. It was easy to persuade her to meet Captain Foster otherwise known as ‘The Black Heart of Calcutta’. When she saw him her eyes lit up like…well like a woman who sees her dream man approaching like a storm at sea. Captain Foster took some convincing to attend a dance without being properly attired, but I assured him his rough seaman clothes would be to his advantage with a certain wealthy lady who dreamed of pirates. Playing cupid gives one such a good feeling, especially when there’s the bonus of knowing it ruins your latest scheme. I’d wager your carriage that Gwen beats you to the altar. I’m sure it’ll be a trial having Captain Foster in the family, but I suspect Gwen will keep him so occupied swaggering about singing awful songs, that he won’t have time to pinch your silver…at least not much of it.”
“You’ll regret your interference.” The ferocious growl merely raised an elegant eyebrow.
“I don’t think so Strathmore. James loves me; anything that hurts me will hurt my husband. Do you remember what it feels like to love a woman Strathmore? Ah, I see by the pain in your eyes that you do. Perhaps you have a heart after all. Perhaps you should use it, before it shrivels up and dies.”
“I’ve sent the announcement to the papers. I’m going to marry Miss Morgan and that’s the end of it.”
“Let it go Strathmore; making other people miserable will never ease your own misery.”
“I’ve made up my mind.”
“Yes I’m sure you have…James’s family will start arriving soon for their annual Christmas gathering. I hope you’ll spend Christmas with us. You could even send for your son. Peter’s boys are all about Bowmont’s age. James’s little brother John is expected any day; he always sleeps in here. Just because you hate each other doesn’t mean you can’t share a bed for a few weeks. Good night Strathmore; pleasant dreams.” Strathmore sneered as the ice maiden gracefully put more coal on the fire and quietly pulled his door closed after her. He slumped over on his side overwhelmed by the awful need for his wife. He tried to imagine her in his arms, but the soft soothing roar of the fire was irregularly disturbed by the sound of the man in the next room sobbing in his sleep. It was impossible. He couldn’t pretend anything with that racket disturbing his thoughts. He jumped out of bed, unlocked his travelling desk and grabbed Lord Devonshire’s love letters. He quietly crept into the next room and closed the door behind him. He marched over to the bed and viciously jabbed the sleeping man in the chest until long wet lashes fluttered open.
“What the devil…?”
Strathmore held up the letters, “One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten; they’re all here. No one’s read them. Who’d want to? Look; I’m putting them safely under your pillow. One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten; now shut up and stop bawling in your sleep. Are you a man or a milksop? Stop whinging and moaning about evil Strathmore cutting in. If you want your lucky Penny then get a spine and do something about it.”
“I can’t, I’m ill.”
“I feel ill every time I look at you Pinhead. Now stop bawling; you’re disturbing my sleep.” Back in his own room, Strathmore heartily wished he’d never met either of the sobbing lovers. His impulsive wrath had landed him in yet another miserable bramble bush. He was now honour bound to marry a woman who loathed him. It was true he needed to marry and produce a few more brats, but not at the expense of turning his favourite pleasure into daily torture. Sharing a marital bed with the sobbing Elizabeth promised to be as pleasurable as hell and it was all Lord Pinhead’s fault.
Strathmore carefully removed his glasses and put out his pipe as he muttered curses at the sick man in the next room. The young idiot had insisted on wagering his stupid carriage in a game of cards and then refused to accept the worth of Strathmore’s old carriage in gold. The pinhead had insisted on like for like within earshot of a large sneering audience. Not wanting to expose his heart, Strathmore had been forced to wager the carriage his wife had finished refurbishing for him weeks before she died. The happiest months of his life had been stitched into the seat covers and window shades she’d lovingly embroidere
d with his coat of arms. He’d been forced to betray his sweetheart because the lucky pinhead didn’t want to win coins he’d have to count.
Her needlework had probably been torn out and thrown away along with his most precious memories. If Lord Pinhead had been as good and kind as Miss Elizabeth Morgan thought him, he’d have taken one look at Strathmore’s old carriage with its faded feminine decorations and sent it back with a gentleman’s compliments. It seemed strange to think that he’d been younger than Lord Pinhead when he’d married the girl he’d courted for three years.
Feeling old and miserable, Strathmore gulped down a cup of hot milk, threw off his dressing gown and climbed into bed naked. The pleasant feel of clean linen against his skin reminded him of the imminent arrival of John Smirke. He’d burn in hell before he shared a bed with the pretty devil. He’d had enough of bramble bushes. He’d decamp first thing in the morning and return home where he could pretend his wife was away visiting her sister and pray his unwilling bride would jilt him. He’d have to see his son, but that could be kept to meal times. He’d have to remember to buy the boy a gift or the servants would think him cruel. Why did it always come down to what other people thought he should do or feel? It was a senseless chain around his neck that crushed him with hourly reminders of his inadequacies. The push and pull of daily life constantly threatened to wash away precious memories as if the cosmos had wagered it could tear even treasured moments from his heart, but he’d never forget his short taste of happiness. The insufferable Lord Pinhead had no idea of what it felt like to long for a woman or to suffer for love. Strathmore exhaled his jealous irritation into his pillow and cursed the sobbing lovers to hell. If he was lucky they’d run away to Scotland and leave him in peace.
Chapter 15
Three days later James was torn from Penny’s arms as he made love to her in a bed of ripe strawberries. Waking up on his stomach, he felt something sharp jabbing the bottom of his foot. His feet automatically curled away from danger as he stared at the blurry rain spattered window surrounded by blue silk. He was still at the Smirke’s, but he felt better and life smelled of strawberries. He was going to find his Penny and…his smile twisted into a painful grimace as his innocent left foot relaxed against something sharp. “What the devil…” Pulling himself into a seated position he shuddered in horror. He was in a living nightmare; lounging at the end of his bed was the blonde devil John Smirke, dressed like a wasp in black and yellow. Hoping he was hallucinating, James rubbed his eyes and yelped in pain as his foot was stabbed with something hard and pointy.
The pretty man at the end of the bed tucked a tortoiseshell letter knife into his coat pocket with a satisfied smile. “Ah lucky me…you’re awake.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m bored. Luckily, James mentioned you were in residence recovering from making an ass of yourself. I wish I’d seen Strathmore accused of stealing another man’s love letters. That would have been priceless.”
“I’m sure it was. Now if you don’t’ mind, I was sleeping.”
“You were moaning for pennies; I thought I’d oblige you.” The pretty man’s black marble eyes gleamed with devilish delight as a heavy tuppence cartwheel penny hit James on the forehead and bounced into his lap.”
Rubbing his head James glared at his tormentor, “That hurt you bastard.”
“Penny…” The pretty man in black and yellow stared at James with an exaggerated look of longing, “Oh Penny…let me melt you in my crucible. Let me recast you with my....” The pretty man’s face took on the look of ecstasy as he groaned an exaggerated, “Ahhhhhhhh.” The pretty devil changed his voice to a high falsetto. “Oh Lucky…take me…take me…put me in your pocket and take me home before I get lost in a gutter. I long to share your drawers…” Another cartwheel penny landed on James’s head and bounced off into the bedding. The pennies sat there tormenting him with the number two. He ignored the onslaught of anxiety and silently waited for another penny to be thrown his way. Rubbing his head, James scowled as the devil in black and yellow jumped off the end of the bed and approached for a closer inspection of his victim. “You should have locked your door Pinhead; the fiends have slathered your hair with strawberry preserves.”
James stopped rubbing his head and looked at his jammy fingers with disgust. “Yuck!”
“You’re luckier than Cousin Mildred. She woke up with orange marmalade in her hair, in her ears, up her nose, and in her shoes.”
“Poor woman.”
“Don’t feel sorry for her; she’s ugly. If I were you, I’d be praying the fiends haven’t stolen your chamber pot or filled it. Anyway, who cares about that, I’m bored. What are we going to do today?” A third Cartwheel penny was dropped onto James’s head where it landed in a large glob of strawberry preserves. “We could play a game of cards, though I insist we play for money.” Another two pennies fell into James’s lap. “I hate wagering personal items; it’s so predictable. Why play cards when you know what you’ll win?” A small number of pennies were thrown over the bed and spattered the wooden flood. “We could go shopping; I need some lemon drops…” Several more pennies bounded off James’s head. “You’ll have to take a bath and borrow some of my clothes, they should just about fit.”
James stared into black eyes with loathing, “Since when are we friends?”
“Since I’m bored and James has taken the fiends for a walk. They’ll drag him all over town for sweets and by the time he crawls home he’ll be too exhausted to entertain me. Why do pleasures of the flesh have to produce such onerous trials as children?”
“I’ve no idea. Why don’t you ask your mother?”
Smirke’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Why would I ask my mother?”
“Who else would you ask?” James crawled out of bed and reached for his trousers.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting on my trousers. I’m going home where I can bathe, eat and be ill in peace.”
“No you’re not.”
James finished buttoning his trouser flap and reached for a boot. “Yes I am.”
“No you’re not…you’re going to spend the day with me. I have something of yours that says you will.”
James shivered with fear as his imagination conjured up a mental image of his Penny at the mercy of John Smirke. “And what exactly do you have Smirke?” James reached for his second boot and grimaced as his foot squelched into strawberry preserves.
“I found ten reasons under your pillow. Reason number one…” Smirke pulled a letter from the strange bulge in his waistcoat. “…a letter addressed to Miss Elizabeth Morgan. Now since this virgin letter has never been opened, we can surmise that it hasn’t reached its intended addressee and therefore the task has not been completed…Oh no!” Smirke pulled the letter knife out of his pocket and slid it up against the seal with a smile. “Luckily, you’ll entertain me one way or the other. Spend the day with me or I’ll read your stupid love letters and throw them in the fire. I assume the thought of being unable to thoroughly complete such a delicate task makes you writhe in agony. Thoroughness; what a boring Achilles heel.”
The thought of Smirke reading his letters was sickening, but the thought of losing them into the fire made James blanch. “Don’t be cruel Smirke. I must deliver them to Penny. I must have resolution.”
“I think we’ll buy some lemon drops and then see if there’s anything on at the playhouse…we can throw pennies at people in the pit.”
“I’m ill. I don’t want to go to the playhouse; I need to find my Penny. Mrs Smirke says Penny is as safe as if I’d put her in one of my collection drawers, but she wouldn’t say where. All she’d say was that I was to go home and ask my housekeeper. I refuse to follow you around Bath like a stupid spaniel. I want to find my Penny.”
John Smirke’s black eyes chilled with irritation. “I understand your Penny is quite pleasing on the eyes. It so happens I know where Miss Elizabeth is staying. James told me at breakfast. I suppose A
gnes didn’t want to tell you in case it upset you and disturbed your sleep. If you refuse to entertain me I may find diversion by delivering your letters. There’s always the chance your Penny would rather be picked up by a more worthy and beautiful collector.”
James growled as he grabbed his waistcoat and started shoving buttons through holes with shaking hands. “Go near my Penny and you’ll thoroughly regret it. She’s mine and I love her.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do infant. If you won’t keep me company I know where to find some.”
James’s aching heart threatened to burst from his chest as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on. “Alright. I’ll be your toady, but only until five o’clock and I insist you first give me your word as a gentleman that you’ll give me all ten letters and stay away from my Penny.”
