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DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS a stilted affair, at least for Tessa. Throughout the overlong meal, she was acutely aware of the dark looks aimed her way from the thundercloud seated at the head of the table. Apparently, the highborn gentleman had decided she was an ‘undesirable’ and therefore unsuited for Polite Company.
He was, indeed, exactly like her stepfather, who believed women did not possess rational minds, were not to speak unless spoken to, and then were merely to smile and agree with the superior opinions expressed by their menfolk. Well, that was not Tessa Darby's way and never would be.
Tessa knew she could never be the perfect wife to any man. As a child, she'd been forced by her stepfather to read and study from the same books little boys were schooled from. Therefore her education was sadly remiss in those subjects deemed appropriate for a young girl. Tessa Darby could not sew a straight stitch, play the pianoforte, or sing. She did not know how to draw pretty pictures or paint with watercolours. She'd never embroidered a single pillowslip or handkerchief in her entire life and had no desire to learn.
She preferred simple, elegant styles in her clothing and did not wear ribbons in her hair. Although she was tall and slim, she was blessed with a shapely figure. On board ship, as she and Mrs. Benton-Caldwell promenaded about the deck, Tessa was often aware of long stares directed at her from other male passengers, as well as members of the ship's crew, and it was not because there were no other young ladies present. There were plenty.
Yet Tessa hadn't the least interest in attracting a man or forming a lasting attachment with one. She was quite happy alone. Despite the fierce disapproval her character might elicit from the high and mighty Lord Penwyck, she had every intention of pursuing her lifelong dream whilst here in England. And . . . she cast a challenging gaze at the gentleman seated at the head of the table, who was still glaring daggers at her . . . she would allow no man to change her or interfere with her plans.
Lord Penwyck had never felt quite so overset. Moreover, he was having the devil of a time deciding how to handle this prickly situation. To toss the outspoken Miss Darby into the streets was not a viable option, although he admitted it was tempting. His poor trusting mother had no idea what an unconventional miss this Miss Darby was, or that, if left unchecked, the little hoyden's actions could very well mean the ruination of them all. Ten minutes ago, when his unsuspecting mother had actually invited the young lady to remain with them indefinitely, Penwyck's jaws had ground together in consternation.
"We are your family now, Tessa dear. You will think of this as your new home. I've no doubt Helen would have taken in any one of my three boys had the need arisen. And . . . " she cast a helpless look across the table at Penwyck, "it very nearly did."
The earl merely cleared his throat, signaling his refusal to discuss that charged subject further. The less said about Joel Belmour, the better.
But he was mentally composing plenty to say on the subject of Miss Darby and had every intention of saying it before the situation got completely out of hand.
Once the meal had concluded and Miss Darby politely asked to be excused, Penwyck caught up to her in the corridor.
"If I may have a private word with you, Miss Darby?"
Tessa turned to gaze up at the tight-lipped gentleman, her cornflower blue eyes unwavering as she bravely held the earl's dark gaze. "I do not feel up to a coze this evening, sir. My journey has quite fatigued me."
"What I have to say will only take a moment, Miss Darby." The earl's tone was firm. A strong hand indicated a chamber to Tessa's right. "This way, if you please."
Tessa pursed her lips obstinately but obediently stepped into the room. From the rows and rows of books lining the dark paneled walls and the large kneehole desk in the center of room, she judged it to be the gentleman's private study.
She watched Lord Penwyck slide the door shut behind him and silently stride across the room to stand before the huge desk. Feeling his cold gaze again on her, Tessa involuntarily shivered and edged a few steps closer to the low-burning fire in the hearth.
After a contemplative pause, the earl finally said, "I have decided the best approach to take with you, Miss Darby, is straight out."
Tessa thrust her chin up as Lord Penwyck's cool dark eyes continued to bore into hers. For the first time, she noted that, with his thick dark hair and strong square jaw, he was not . . . unattractive. Although, having seen but one expression grace those aristocratic features, and that not a pleasant one, she could not in all honesty call the gentleman handsome.
The look of displeasure she'd beheld on his face since she first met him this afternoon remained unchanged as he spoke. "It appears, Miss Darby, there is a good deal you do not yet know about propriety."
Tessa's blue eyes widened in surprise. No one, not even her stepfather, had accused her of being improper. She was about to make an angry retort when the earl held up a silencing hand.
"I am not yet finished, Miss Darby. First off, a proper young lady does not go about Town unchaperoned. I realize you must have felt compelled to find your own way here this afternoon, but the proper thing for you to have done upon arriving in London was to have got word to us that you required assistance."
He paused, as if to allow her to say something on her own behalf. When she did not, he added, in a slightly altered tone, "I was quite pleased to learn from your conversation at dinner that you had not made the crossing from America un-chaperoned. I had begun to fear colonists hadn't the least notion of decency."
Indignation exploded within Tessa. "Colonists are perfectly decent!" she cried. "At least the majority of them are." She inhaled a fitful breath and was about to elaborate further when an authoritative bellow cut her off.
"Nonetheless . . . " Lord Penwyck folded his arms across his broad chest, an angry scowl again furrowing his brow, "I cannot overlook your scandalous behaviour this afternoon in Hyde Park."
Tessa's chin shot up and heated words spilled from her lips before she could even think of halting them. "I have no idea what you are referring to, sir. Furthermore, I do not apprecia . . . "
"My point exactly, Miss Darby. You haven't the least notion to what I am referring! Despite whatever charitable cause you are forwarding, the fact remains that proper young ladies do not hand out leaflets in Hyde Park!"
Tessa's breasts rose and fell, an action the toplofty earl took note of. His gaze dropped for the veriest second to her bosom before his scathing stare bore once again into hers. Though she hadn't the least idea why, she felt a measure of satisfaction that her femininity had distracted him.
"Whilst you are a guest in my home," the arrogant gentleman continued, "you will conduct yourself with the utmost propriety and seemliness."
"I am perfectly seemly, sir," Tessa retorted angrily.
The earl glared at her. "Whether or not that is true, Miss Darby, remains to be seen." He paused, his dark head shaking from side to side. "Thank God the incident in Hyde Park took place before the fashionable hour. I shudder to think what the consequences would be if the ton had seen you." His well-shaped lips pursed with annoyance. "It is my mother's express wish to bring you out, Miss Darby; to introduce you to people of high consequence in London. It is becoming quite evident to me, however, that to see you married and well set up will require more than a good bit of . . . "
"Are you saying I am unsuitable?" Tessa cried indignantly. Without thinking, she blurted out, "For your information, sirrah, I am at this moment betrothed to the son of a United States senator!"
A dark brow arched. "Ah. So, you do have plans to return to America?"
Tessa's own lips pursed and the toe of her boot began to tap impatiently against the hearth. Why could she not remember to think before she spoke? She had no intention of marrying George Hancock or returning to America. "I did not say that. What I meant was . . . no, sir; I do not plan to return to America." Lord Penwyck's condescending gaze further incensed Tessa. Now she'd done it. The infuriating man thought her a complete ninnyhammer!
She hurried to explain. "What I meant to say, sir, is that I am not the least bit ashamed of my conduct in the park this afternoon. As it happens, I have an absorbing interest in humanitarian causes and as an English citizen . . . I was born in this country, you know . . . I feel I have every right to . . . "
"Enough!" The earl's angry bellow again silenced her. "Proper young ladies are not interested in political issues, Miss Darby."
"Why ever not?" Tessa demanded. "I know a great deal about what is going on politically in this country and I . . . "
"I will listen to nothing further on the subject!" the earl exclaimed and turned to angrily shuffle some papers on his desk. A few seconds later, upon again hearing her toe tapping impatiently against the hearth, he turned toward her once more. "Have I made my position in this matter clear, Miss Darby?"
"Quite clear, sir." Tessa directed an innocent blue gaze up at him. "So long as I am a good little girl and do exactly as I am told, all will be well. Am I free to go now?"
"You are free to do as you like. Miss Darby, so long as your actions are proper."
Tessa pulled herself to her full height of five feet, seven inches. "Thank you, Lord Penwyck." She turned and headed for the door. "I mean to retire to my suite now and spend the remainder of the evening composing my next essay, copies of which I will distribute . . . "
She had almost reached the door when she felt strong fingers curl about her upper arm.
"Wait just a minute, Miss Darby."
Tessa turned an icy blue gaze upward.
Lord Penwyck was standing quite near her. It registered in a part of her mind that he was quite tall, nearly a head taller than she, which would put him well above six feet. His chest and shoulders were excessively broad. She felt a strange tingling sensation where his fingers touched her bare flesh. She cast a gaze that direction and noted his hands and upper arm were quite powerful. She found the woodsy scent wafting about him pleasant, though at the same time . . . irritating.
"Apparently I did not make myself quite clear enough, Miss Darby." The earl's tone was lethal.
Tessa thrust his woodsy scent from her mind.
"On the contrary, sir. You said I was free to do as I please, and I said I was . . . "
"Miss Darby . . . " the gentleman's dark eyes narrowed to angry slits, "I will not allow you to behave in such a hoydenish fashion. Whilst you reside in this house, you will do precisely as I say, or I will . . . "
Tossing her auburn hair, Tessa's sapphire eyes flashed fire. "Or you will what, sir? Banish me to my room?" It was on the tip of her tongue to add that that had never stopped her before. Being forbidden to speak her mind and banished to her room because she had spoken her mind was precisely what had brought her here.
Lord Penwyck's strong fingers continued to grip her upper arm and the muscles in his square jaw tightened.
At length, he said, "If we are to avoid another war between our countries, Miss Darby, I suggest . . . "
"I am every bit as English as you are, sir! England is my country and I refuse to ask permission to do as I please here!"
The earl's nostrils flared angrily.
The two stood rooted in place for a long moment. At length, Lord Penwyck said, "For my mother's sake, Miss Darby, I implore you to curtail your disagreeable political activities whilst you reside in this house."
Tessa inhaled a long breath. She saw absolutely nothing wrong in what she had done this afternoon or in what she wished to do. But, apparently 'his lordship' did. Although Lady Penwyck was a bit of a skitter-wit, Tessa genuinely liked the older woman and did not wish to do anything that would displease her. To do so would be the same as displeasing her own mother.
"Very well," she finally murmured. "I will refrain from distributing leaflets in the park."
Tessa felt Lord Penwyck's strong grip on her arm relax the veriest mite. When he let go entirely and stepped away, the movement sent the pleasant woodsy aroma that surrounded him wafting to Tessa's nostrils again. She drank in the heady scent, then quickly exhaled, as if to thrust all traces of his nearness from her.
The arrogant gentleman might have forced her hand this time, but that did not mean she would give up her dream. He was simply forcing her to find another way to carry on with her plans, one that would not attract his notice.
His anger somewhat abated, Lord Penwyck ordered his carriage brought round and a moment later, upon hearing the clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones in front of the house, took his leave.
He fully believed the impudent Miss Darby had been put firmly in her place and would now do precisely as he asked. She was a woman and, despite any small show of resistance females felt compelled to display, in the end they all obeyed. It was the way of the world. Women were meant to be ruled by men. Penwyck felt quite proud of having taken the situation in hand. By calling an immediate halt to Miss Darby's foolishness, he had once again averted disaster.
The earl felt almost jaunty as he alighted from his carriage a quarter hour later at number sixty St. James's Street and walked to the door of the prestigious gentleman's club Brooks. Only one last item remained on his list for this evening, to apprise his good friend Lowell Ashburn of the true identity of his mother's houseguest and demand his complete silence in the matter. It would never do for the ton to learn that his mother, the well-liked and well-respected Countess Penwyck, intended bringing out ‘The Hyde Park Spectacle.'
The butler at Brooks' greeted Lord Penwyck with a near-imperceptible nod and wordlessly relieved his lordship of his topcoat, walking stick, and black beaver hat.
Penwyck entered the Great Subscription Room, where later tonight the names of new members would be proposed and voted upon. The Subscription Room was the largest chamber in what was, in truth, a comparatively small building. With its high domed ceiling, elaborate scrollwork, and impressive chandelier, the Subscription Room forwarded the club's overall feeling of spaciousness and quiet elegance.
Lord Penwyck located his good friend Mr. Ashburn, who had only recently been voted into the club and who owed his good fortune to the highly persuasive earl, on the fringe of the room, engaged in conversation with a group of gentlemen who were, no doubt, promoting the qualifications of their especial favourites from tonight's roster of prospective members.
Catching sight of Lord Penwyck, Mr. Ashburn excused himself and headed toward Penwyck. "Hallo! I understand the young lady from America has arrived. Is she passing fair, or what?"
Penwyck started. This was not the first time his affable friend had stunned him with his foreknowledge of gossip or newsworthy events not yet commonly known about town. It often appeared to Penwyck that Ashburn, a mere third son of an impoverished baronet, knew as much or more about other people's affairs than they knew themselves. Regaining his composure, Penwyck said, "Might I speak with you privately, Ashburn?"
Mr. Ashburn shrugged. "Of course."
Penwyck led the way to a secluded pair of overstaffed chairs drawn up before the hearth. After the men were seated, he ordered a snifter of the club's best aged brandy for himself and a glass for his companion and decided to wait until the drinks had been delivered before he broached the subject of Miss Darby. On-dits were quite often spread all over Town via tongue-wagging servants in gentlemen's clubs or private homes. Penwyck did not want this potentially damaging bit of news bruited about in all the drawing rooms in London.
Some minutes later, the fine brandy warming his gullet, Penwyck addressed his friend. "I've something of a rather sensitive nature to divulge to you tonight, Ash. It concerns my mother's houseguest. I demand your solemn oath that what I am about to tell you will not be repeated to another soul."
The utmost respect shone from Mr. Ashburn's clear blue eyes. "I would never betray your confidence, Penwyck. You have my oath."
Penwyck cocked a somewhat suspicious brow. "Mark my words, Ash. If I hear one word of this bandied about, I shall call you out."
Mr. Ashburn leaned so far forward in his chair his knees all but touched the earl's. "My God, Penwyck, what are you hiding?"
Penwyck inhaled a sharp breath. "I wish it were that simple."
"Spill it, man. I confess I am as anxious as a cat in a fishery." Mr. Ashburn took a long draught of his brandy, apparently hoping it would give his companion courage.
Penwyck inhaled another deep breath before plunging in. "It appears, Ashburn, you have already met . . . that is, you have already seen my mother's houseguest."
Mr. Ashburn's brows drew together thoughtfully. "Must be mistaken, old man. I have no recollection of ever . . . "
"Damn it! I do not mean you have been formally presented to the young lady. I said you have seen her."
The puzzled look on Mr. Ashburn's face deepened. "Say what?"
Penwyck's lips pursed with exasperation. "Devil take it, Ash, this afternoon in the park." The earl's dark head shook. "I regret to say my mother's houseguest is the . . . " he cast a surreptitious glance over one shoulder, then lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "The Hyde Park Spectacle."
Mr. Ashburn's blue eyes widened, then he threw his head back and a burst of hearty laughter spilled from his lips. "Damme, Penwyck, that's rich! What did your mother say when you told her what her protégée’d been up to?"
"I am not a complete fool," Penwyck sputtered. "I saw no need to burden mother with such fustian. I extricated a promise from Miss Darby to leave off distributing her radical literature in the park and elsewhere so long as she is in town. The poor girl was not even aware she had committed a social blunder."
"I understand her father is a United States Senator."
The earl's scowl deepened. "What else have you learned about her?"
Ashburn's head shook vigorously. "Nothing. I swear, that's the whole of it. I know only that she arrived this afternoon and that your mother is set to bring her out." He grinned rakishly. "And that she is demmed pretty. You don't mind if I spread that around, do you, old man?" His lips twitched with high amusement.
"Not at all." Penwyck exhaled. "The sooner Miss Darby is married and becomes the responsibility of another man, the easier I shall breathe."
"The chit can't be so bad as all that, Penwyck. Apart from her shocking display of impropriety in the park this afternoon, what could you possibly find so displeasing about her?"
Penwyck cocked a brow. "Suffice to say, the young lady's interests are not in the common way. Her pretty head is stuffed full of political rubbish and misguided notions about . . . about . . ." The earl's voice trailed off as he shook his head, presumably to clear it of all lingering images of the perturbing Miss Darby.
"I see," Mr. Ashburn murmured. "I presume you set her straight?"
"I did. I expect Miss Darby will soon become as missish and giddy as any other female on the Marriage Mart. With her extraordinary good looks . . . "
"Ah, so you did notice."
"Notice what?" Penwyck demanded.
Mr. Ashburn's blue eyes twinkled merrily. "I predict your fetching Miss Darby will soon become the talk of the town, old man."
Mr. Ashburn's prophetic words were still ringing in Lord Penwyck's ears when he went down to breakfast the following morning and discovered his mother pouring over a handwritten document given her by Miss Tessa Darby.
"Penny darling!" his mother cried. "You simply must read this!"