As anticipated, Allington arrived soon after first light, the element of surprise on their side, but it was fleeting at the least. Allington would know Penwick was conscious, angry and waiting. He was no fool and would likely bring a pistol, though Penwick omitted the consideration when he’d planned with Livie the night before. It would be cruel and likewise unnecessary to distract her with the dangers.
He matched eyes with Livie across the width of the stable as the chains tapped against the main door, the metallic message a harbinger begging they prepare. And as predicted, Allington entered, pistol at the waistband of his trousers, hair in disarray as if he’d already committed an offensive confrontation or had a sleepless night. With the new sun silhouetting his approach, he appeared a spectre of disaster, a madman losing hold on sanity.
Penwick ran through options, discarding and amending with alacrity. He would do nothing to endanger Livie, even if it meant bending to Allington’s demands.
The man was not so easily foiled. With hardly a glance inside the stall where they’d arranged Livie’s skirt as a ploy, Allington ascertained his captive had been set free and, with slow, fluid dauntlessness, drew out his pistol. A horse nickered and Allington jerked to the left, his boots soundless as he strode forward.
‘Let’s not prolong the fun, Penwick. Come out and bring your little friend with you. We have much to settle before the vicar arrives.’ Each syllable echoed and overlapped inside the otherwise quiet barn, yet once the last word dissipated, silence resumed.
‘If you insist on creating a scene.’ One by one, Allington checked the stalls. ‘It’s not as if you have anywhere to run.’ He glanced over his shoulder to where he’d left the double doors gaping; an error in judgement unable to be fixed without turning his back. ‘You’ll have to get past me, though, wouldn’t you?’
His retort of anticipation lent an eerie chord. The shuffle of hay and horse hooves was the only response until a sharp whistle rent the air. Decorum, the obedient white mare Randolph had sold to Allington, galloped from her pen with a furious whinny, nostrils flared and mane flapping. Livie, barefoot as an angel, rode high on her back. They aimed straight towards the door and with simultaneous purpose Randolph bolted from the grooms’ quarters, striking Allington across the shoulders to knock him forward, the pistol flung aside as he absorbed the impact of the combined assault.
Decorum snorted her approval and with a valiant step pivoted to reclaim her master, to which Randolph grabbed a handful of mane and mounted, the entire episode over in a matter of minutes. He took control as Livie slid into position and clasped his torso from behind. Her arms held fast as they rode towards the door. A smile quirked his lips, as mad a thought as satisfaction, although the moment was short-lived. As they aimed towards the barn doors to exit, a pistol shot whizzed past their left side not more than two inches out. It startled a sharp gasp from Livie, her hold tightening, but he smiled with the knowledge Allington would never have time to take another shot. Pity, that.
Randolph didn’t rein in until they were well down the main road, far away from Clipthorne. They were ragged, dirty and somewhat deranged by the series of events consuming the last day and a half, but when Decorum found an elegant canter, he reached behind and grabbed Livie’s elbow, hauling her in front of him to take her mouth in a long, deep kiss that spoke of trust and devotion. Her hands wound around his neck for security, and perhaps because he’d noticed she enjoyed playing with the ends of his hair; and with her nestled against his chest, half across his lap, his barefoot captive, he rode into London centre and further on to Kirby Park.
‘Dashwood.’ Penwick’s strong beckon resounded on the gravel drive. It was late morning. No need for soft voices existed and besides, he meant to return Livie home where her sister and family had suffered, frantic with worry. If Esme had managed to make sense of what happened and explained, or if the absence of Lavinia had prompted their concern, mattered little.
He never expected what occurred next.
He’d accomplished the end of the drive as the double doors flung open, an outpouring of persons flooding the brick stoop. He recognised Dashwood at the forefront, Jasper’s older brother and familiar face. Behind him was a slight woman with the same colouring as Livie though she was more petite. Beside her stood an even older version of the same; a tiny sprite of a woman who could only be Aunt Kate, as Livie had described them all when they shared secrets and conversation in the hay loft the previous evening.
He expected appreciation. At the least some type of sincere gratitude for returning Livie home unharmed aside from a lost pair of slippers which truly presented no problem. To his delight, she’d confessed to owning nearly one hundred pair.
But as before, he was caught unaware.
Decorum had hardly stopped before they were surrounded, Dashwood’s face an intense scowl as he thundered towards the slowing horse.
‘Lavinia.’ His tone was hard though he appeared conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say next.
‘I can get down,’ Livie answered with curt efficiency, anticipating her brother-in-law’s difficulty. ‘Randolph will assist me,’ she added in defence.
This hardened Dashwood’s stentorian expression. ‘He will do no such thing.’
The idiocy of the latter statement was not lost on Livie who stifled a small giggle. Currently she was nestled across his lap, her limbs tangled with his to keep her secure while they rode, and she hadn’t made a move to disentangle, which was fine with Randolph. He intended to become tangled with Livie for the rest of his life.
‘The grooms will be here any moment with the steps and then you will dismount as a lady.’ He flicked his eyes upward. ‘Touch her any more than necessary and I’ll shoot you.’
Randolph clenched his teeth and contained a chuckle when he heard Livie mutter not again.
Livie couldn’t fathom why Dashwood was behaving so ridiculously. With just cause, she realised her family would be concerned, her sister and aunt plain sick with worry, for she’d disappeared overnight after having vowed not to go anywhere without specific explanation, but lud, this was not a situation where she had any choice and no matter the danger, inconvenience or loss of a lovely pair of silk slippers, the incident had allowed her to spend the evening within Randolph’s embrace. They’d vowed their love and planned their future. Life seemed rather good.
Dashwood dismissed Randolph and focused all attention on her; where she did her best to appear unperturbed, still the situation simmered with ironic amusement. While Dash had ordered her not to dismount with Randolph’s assistance, the wait for the grooms with the portable steps left her strewn across his warm body all the longer. A very comfortable and cosy place, actually. Oh, how she loved him well and thoroughly.
As if Dash realised the verbal corner he’d created, he returned attention to Randolph and with vehemence issued yet another command. ‘You will not touch her.’ Then, over his shoulder in a thundering tone aimed at no one in particular, he barked, ‘Where are the boys with the stairs?’
As if his anger conjured the lads, two young grooms lumbered from the side of the house and out onto the gravel with the wooden platform. They dropped the block unceremoniously and, as they departed, shook their limbs with brisk invigoration as if their arms stretched a bit from the unexpected effort and hasty summons.
‘Take my hand.’ Dashwood extended his palm, while Whimsy and Aunt Kate, who up to this moment had remained unusually silent, huddled closer to Decorum. The mare hardly sidestepped though Livie could feel Randolph control the horse with pressure from his thighs, the same legs which remained underneath hers.
Lud. What a pity she would need to dismount.
She manoevred a bit to loosen her position from where she’d settled against Randolph and heard his broken groan. Luckily, Dash seemed oblivious, his seething glare focused on his outstretched hand where she’d yet to place her palm.
‘Your feet are bare?’ Wilhelmina gasped. ‘When have you ever been without shoes, Livie? Oh, dear.’ A note of laughter flirted with the exclamation and then, unable to contain her relief and mirth, both she and Aunt Kate burst into a full-blown bout of hysteria. ‘Isn’t that ripe? The girl has more shoes than Lott’s and yet here she is, slipper-less as a newborn.’ The two ladies clasped hands, the emotional moment gaining the better of them, but once Dash cleared his throat, the drive fell into silence again.
‘Randolph, will you please assist me as I step down?’ She asked the innocent question as she simultaneously placed her hand into Dash’s. Perhaps she could be a conduit joining the male forces in her life. She had no father to protect her and appreciated Dashwood’s vigilant safeguard, but Randolph owned her heart. He lived in every breath she took. He had for some time now.
Randolph lifted and guided her with gentle strength onto the box, controlling Decorum’s subtle sidestep with masterful command. Dash grabbed her hand firmly, but the instant her soles met the cold wood of the block she twisted in his grasp and offered Randolph a pure smile which encompassed more than any word, spoken or written. They knew. They didn’t have to say anything else. Then she fished her hand into her pocket, retrieved his signet ring and placed it into his warm palm. Again, their eyes met and held.
‘Come along, Livie. It will be a miracle to salvage your reputation after this debacle. No one else needs see you on display in the front drive of Kirby Park.’ Murmurings were exchanged by Aunt Kate and Wilhelmina, though Livie couldn’t decipher whether they agreed or objected to Dash’s command and she knew better than to dally longer once Dash insisted with that authoritarian lordship tone he employed when angry.
Thankfully, Whimsy and Aunt Kate rushed over as soon as her feet met the ground to envelop her in their warmth and love. With careful steps, mindful of the gravel and her bare feet, they ushered her into the house. She listened for Decorum’s hooves as Randolph departed but she couldn’t hear a thing with her sister and aunt’s fussy coddling, the peppering of questions and prompts near overwhelming.
Dinah appeared out of nowhere with a cup of tea in one hand and several blankets tucked under her elbow on the other side, and before Livie could answer one of the multitude of enquiries bantered about, she settled in the overstuffed couch near the fender to get warm. Dinah was quick to stir sugar into the tea and tuck the thick flannel quilt around Livie’s lap. A pair of her slippers magically appeared on the carpet next.
‘Good heavens, what happened?’ Whimsy lowered herself to the cushion beside her. ‘You look a fright. Your clothes are ruined, your feet filthy and scratched, and you’ve never looked happier in your life. You’re absolutely radiant. Explain, dear sister. Your aunt and I are on pins and needles since Esme visited last night, and while I know you must want a bath above all else, you must first ease our worries.’ Aunt Kate agreed as she sat alongside, her face beaming with what seemed a knowing smile.
‘How is Esme?’ Livie frowned at the remembrance of her friend’s stark outrage when that miscreant fondled her person. ‘I’ve been so worried.’
‘As have we about you. Esme is no worse for the experience. She came here straightaway and explained what happened. Naturally, Dash took action, sending footmen out, summoning runners and yelling with frequency. It’s his way of showing concern and it’s a wonderful quality, but we were all equally worried. Aunt Kate and I were somewhat pacified by his control and command, but nothing could truly resolve our unrest until we had you back to Kirby Park.’ Whimsy sighed and moved closer on the seat. ‘I won’t reiterate what I know you already understand, but after mother and father’s accident… well, I can’t lose you, too.’
‘You’re not losing me, Whimsy.’ Livie offered a tremulous smile, for the mention of her parents’ accident, tragic death, and the time afterward, overwhelmed her in an onslaught of emotion. She took her sister’s hand into her own. The next thoughts buoyed her spirits. ‘Actually, I believe you’ll be gaining a member of the family very soon.’
‘A child?’ Aunt Kate stood up with swift surprise. ‘Oh, dear. This is unexpected. And to think I’ve been in the dark about all this for weeks. Maybe months. How long has it been? Good heavens. Is it longer?’
‘No.’ Livie’s laughter joined with Wilhelmina’s to resound within the drawing room. ‘That’s not what I meant. Never mind. Perhaps I’m speaking too soon, but I imagine once everything is worked out, you’ll both gain a better understanding. These past few hours have been liberating, complicated and, at one point, quite frightening, but I wouldn’t trade them for any other experience. The Earl of Penwick is Randolph, the gentleman who corresponded with me through our letters. I don’t know how to explain everything that’s transpired. I hardly believe it myself.’ She let a soft smile turn her lips, her inner joy warm and comforting.
‘Why don’t you start at the beginning? You promised me you wouldn’t return to Lott’s Majestic Shoe Shop so, at the least, I would think, you have a bit of explaining to do.’ Wilhelmina moved yet closer, settling in for the entire tale.
‘That I do.’ Livie folded her hands on her wrinkled skirt, stalling a moment as she played with the charms on her bracelet, and then she did as she was told.
‘What was that about?’ Dash craned his neck and glared at Penwick atop his white horse. ‘You can’t ride up the drive like some bloody hero, dishevelled and proud, with Livie atop your lap, and not expect to be questioned. I should introduce you to my fist but, with a gentleman’s code, will allow a few words of explanation first.’
‘To which part do you refer?’ With difficulty, Penwick kept his expression blank. Dashwood’s gallantry should be admired, but with the series of events he’d endured, Penwick didn’t possess the energy.
‘By the devil, you sound amused,’ Dash thundered now. ‘I refer to the ring exchange.’ He ground out his response.
‘My ring?’ There really was no harm in having a bit of fun with it all. When you fear you may not live until morning, you begin to appreciate the smaller joys in life.
‘Yes,’ Dash huffed with impatience. ‘Get down and talk to me earl to earl.’
Earl to earl.
It was the first time he truly enjoyed hearing the title, and the consequences meant one thing. Dashwood was an equal, and therefore could not order him about or otherwise influence future occurrences, which would include, Penwick smiled at the thought, a most imminent marriage to Lavinia.
He dismounted with ease, though he likely appeared as aristocratic as stale bread. He needed a hot bath and several hours of uninterrupted slumber. The remembrance of sleeping with Livie in his arms prompted another sly smile.
‘What has you grinning like a fool?’ Dashwood paced the drive in a fluster, his boots sending bits of gravel in every direction. ‘No, wait. Don’t answer that. I suspect I know exactly what has you wearing that expression of satisfaction. How dare you return my sister-in-law in a state of dishabille. Without shoes. Without shoes! All of London might have seen her ankles.’ He took a heaving breath. ‘What happened? Where were the both of you? No matter Esme’s meagre enlightenment, I cannot fathom one explanation to exonerate you returning Livie home half-dressed, strewn across your lap.’ The latter words were spoken in a low, seething growl.
‘Then what is it you’d like to know?’ Penwick prepared to offer him any version of the past twenty-four hours, including the truth. Nothing could keep him from marrying Livie. Not a deranged plotting son-of-a-jeweller, a near-miss pistol shot, and definitely not an angry brother-in-law. ‘I will easily tell you whatever it is you wish to know. But be prepared for the truth, which may surprise you.’
An eerie quiet ensued and Penwick wondered if Dashwood worked through his anger far enough to realise Lavinia had been returned home, happy, safe and all in one piece. In a few beats’ time, Dash seemed to come to some kind of mollification for his frown softened and stance relaxed.
‘I am their protector. It took a great leap of faith for me to recover the earldom and propose marriage to Wilhelmina. Now, as the only male in charge of three very willful females, I refuse to allow anyone or anything to cause them undue harm. Aunt Kate is faring well despite her advanced years. A little hearing loss and a bit of arthritis are her only troubles, but Whimsy and her sister are a handful and my life’s responsibility. Their happiness depends on the choices I make. They’ve experienced more hardship and worry than anyone should, losing their parents at a young age and struggling to survive. I cannot allow you to bring disorder into our home when I’ve worked for over a year to restore normalcy to their lives.’
‘Are you through with your lecture?’ Penwick was weary to the bone, kicked, beaten, invigorated and thoroughly in love, yet he realised with great gravity he needed to clear the air before he’d find any peace. He couldn’t allow Dashwood to carry the wrong impression into the house and, perhaps, draw conclusions that would lead to further conflict. He glanced towards Decorum who’d found a sparse patch of grass that survived the dropping temperatures of late. At least someone had secured a place of relaxation.
‘Yes, I’m through and I’ve made my position clear.’ Dashwood extended his hand. ‘Now that you understand Livie is off limits we have no need for further discussion. Good day.’ He took a step back and pivoted as if to leave.
Penwick viewed him with amused curiosity. Off limits? How preposterous. The woman kept his heart. There would be no living without her. He did not return Dashwood’s attempt at a handshake and dismissal, and instead began to laugh. There was little else to do as he watched the Earl’s furious, retreating form, out of earshot and up into Kirby Park.
‘Are they still arguing?’ Livie soaked in the most divine bath of her lifetime, the water hotter than hot and scented with lavender, her head reclined against the rim while her eyes fluttered closed despite she posed the question to Dinah who stood sentry at the upstairs window. ‘I wonder what is taking so long.’
‘Your earl appears amused. Perhaps that’s a good sign. He’s enjoying a good, long laugh.’ Dinah dropped the curtain and hurried to the tub, gathering a towel along the way and wetting the bar of soap in a nearby bucket of water. ‘They can’t be at odds with him looking so cheerful, can they now?’ She lathered the soap and began. The rub of her fingertips against Livie’s scalp provoked a purr of blissful gratification. ‘So much has occurred in the span of two days.’
Livie smiled a secret smile. Indeed. How soon would she be able to experience Randolph’s kiss? And all the other delights of the hay loft? Her mind replayed a series of tempting suggestions and she shivered despite the heated water.
‘I suppose Esme will visit today. There was an article in the newspaper concerning Mr Horne and Lott’s Majestic. And what of your Penwick’s wedding to Miss Allington? I accidently overheard your sister expressing concern over the predicament. How will the family resolve it all without undue blathering?’ Dinah continued her blissful ministrations, her fingers as lively as the flurry of questions.
Livie sighed, more from contentment than exasperation, but a fair share of unresolved problems still existed. What had happened to the diamond shoe clips that had created chaos from the start? Did Esme give them to Dash? And what of Jonathan Allington? Was he right now plotting some diabolical revenge or had he fled, cognizant he’d angered an earl of frightening intelligence who would easily crush him were he ever to attempt harm again? The man’s plotting was bizarre to say the least. And poor Mr Horne. He’d become a victim within this whole foolish plot. Was he well, recovered? Would Lott’s Majestic Shoe Shop ever reopen?
The whirlpool of questions whipped around her brain until she bolted upright, splashing water over the rim of the tub and startling a shriek from Dinah who still had her fingers tangled in the soapy lengths of Livie’s hair.
‘I must get dressed and remedy the problems I’ve created. It’s the only thing to do. It’s the right thing. Good heavens, Dinah, rinse my hair. Time is of the essence.’ She wiggled her shoulders in an attempt to release her maid’s hold. ‘I’m the only one who can right the wrongs I’ve caused.’
‘Are you sure, miss? I don’t think your sister will be pleased if I help you…’ Concern marked every word.
‘No, don’t think. We have no time for thinking.’ And on that end command, Livie began to solidify her plans.