Page 12 of A Sight to Behold
“Oh, Penelope, look at how you’ve grown!” The kind voice of the elderly Lady Canton came from the left. Pippa squinted in the dim light. The guest sat next to her husband, and fromPippa’s vantage point, her dress was such a dark red that it blended in with her husband’s black, or possibly blue coat. “Come and give me a kiss, darling. I haven’t seen you since your mother died. Poor thing.” Pippa followed the voice, but when she had just reached the elderly couple, found Lady Canton’s hands. Soft and wrinkled with manicured nails, the older woman patted Pippa’s left hand which was sandwiched between hers and tugged her gown. Pippa dutifully curtsied and bowed to receive a grandmotherly kiss from Lady Canton, but instead, her face brushed against a large, smooth, somewhat greasy ball. It was a little hairy, too.Revolting…
Oh no!
“What are you doing kissing his lordship’s head for?” Her father thundered and banged on the table. Then he mumbled another insult under his breath.
She froze.
“D—darling girl,” the old duchess stuttered. “What’s wrong with her? Is she tetched?” Her head was turned away from her. Pippa only just realized it by the scent of the woman’s pomade, and she jerked back.
“She’s unwell,” Wife Six said and then slurped the soup.
“An embarrassment. A clumsy goose,” Father said. “Wine?”
“I beg your pardon, but this is… it’s—” But before his lordship could finish his sentence, Pippa had stormed out of the room and began heading up the stairs. Tears of embarrassment and anger rose in her eyes. Her useless,deficienteyes.
“Stop!” Bea’s voice came from the bottom of the staircase. “Pippa!”
“Leave me alone!” She continued to climb.
“It was an accident!”
“Of course, it was an accident! What would I go about kissing the bald head of disgusting old lords?” Pippa fought not toshriek. She lifted her skirts and began to run up the stairs with Bea on her heels.
Downstairs, an uproar and protest continued to emanate from the dining room. Pippa squeezed her eyes shut. In her embarrassment, she’d forgotten that they could hear. She’d stumbled over Lady Canton, kissed her husband’s bald head, and then called him disgusting. Clumsy goose, indeed.
Pippa finally reached her room, heaving for air and dignity. An accident happened once or twice. This, however, was a curse.
Life had played an awful joke on her, testing her resolve to survive even the most meager appearances with human beings that confirmed—every single time—that her father could be right: she was an embarrassment. She should know better now, but the disappointment in herself surprised her anew, every day. Wasn’t there a cure forthat?
Somehow, she forgot her clumsiness when she moved about her typical day. Even in the orangery, she had no trouble finding her way around and caring for her plants. She got flustered only when something was out of place, and that’s when she made stupid mistakes.
Like the colossal one of… oh, she wouldn’t allow herself to think of it. What a disaster. She grimaced, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
If she weren’t embarrassing herself in front of members of the Ton, she was bumping into handsome doctors and smearing custard and cream all over them.
Her heart skipped a beat and she admitted to herself that she didn’t mind the young doctor, nor did she mind besmearing him with whipped cream, though the context of doing so by accident in her favorite pastry shop posed the problem. Would she have the courage to return? And if she did—would she meet him again?
Pippa sternly reminded herself not to get carried away by fanciful dreams. Yet, her imagination paid no heed, painting vivid images of captivating moments. The warm smiles gave way to strolls in the moonlight, intense discussions, stolen kisses beneath the twinkling stars, and even—Pippa’s cheeks reddened at the thought—a wedding ceremony. Could she really envision herself saying, “I do” to the charming doctor with a heartwarming smile? Nonsense.
Despite her numerous attempts to suppress these absurd thoughts, Pippa finally surrendered. As ludicrous as they were, at least these fantasies were hers alone, hidden from prying eyes and safe from clumsy accidents. No soul need ever find them out. And though the chances of crossing paths with the handsome doctor again were slim, her heart still clung onto this unlikely possibility.
She could see herself playfully smearing a dollop of whipped cream on the doctor’s cheek, the corner of his mouth curving into a surprised smile. The image of herself leaning in to lick it off, her lips trailing warm kisses along his jawline, was scandalous enough to make her heart flutter wildly.
She tried to dismiss the thought, shaking her head as if physically attempting to dislodge the dream from her mind. But the picture only grew more vivid, the doctor’s surprised laughter ringing in her ears, the taste of sweet cream and warmer skin on her tongue. It was an image that was both exciting and terrifying, a tantalizing blend of sweet innocence and delicious impropriety.
“Stop it, Pippa,” she scolded herself, but her imagination, now unleashed, was relentless. The fantasy was hers alone, hidden away in the deepest corners of her heart. And no matter how scandalous, it was a secret thrill she found herself unwilling to let go.
And why did her mind continually find its way back to him? So what if he was extremely handsome, with an angled jawline that she’d imagined kissing, along with the contour of his neck and chest? She’d fallen in his lap, her hand had brushed over his pecs, and he was hard, solid, strong. Pippa’s tummy did that whirlwind thing again; it was most unsettling.
She had to stop the woolgathering and control her fantasies. Nobody would want the clumsy goose. Nobody wanted her.
“You have no idea what it feels like when everybody mocks you and your own father hates you!” Pippa’s voice wobbled as she cried and threw herself on her bed. There was that chain around the heart again. It made it hard to fill her lungs when she inhaled, and it was impossible to let go of the hurt when she exhaled.
“He doesn’t hate you, Pippa!” Bea shut the door and moved to sit on the side of the bed.
“Of course, he does. It’s plain to see!”
“I have no idea what it is you think you see. A father can never hate his own child.”
