Page 52 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
He laughed. “Meet her? That’s all I must do?”
“You know what I mean,” she said tightly.
“Oh, yes. I do.” He put both hands on the table and leaned toward her. “You mean I must submit. I must marry the girl you have chosen, and then, and only then, my father will consent to provide me with an actual, livable income.”
“You must also agree to run for MP in an open borough, come election time,” she declared.
He sighed. “Why, Mother? Why have you come to engage in the same fight we’ve had so many times before? Why cannot you understand? I’m not interested in becoming a fervent, fighting Tory. That is father’s passion. I am happy enough pursuing my own interests.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Happy enough? Living in tiny rooms and studying insects and animals and the most countrified pursuits in England?” Her face had taken on the frozen expression of distaste that had haunted his childhood. “Do not forget, that stipend you are surviving on comes from the funds of my dowry. I feel quite sure that my father would not have included such an allowance in the marriage settlements, had he realized you would use it to defy your family.”
“My lady,” Tensford interjected gently. “You should not seek to take Sterne from his studies. Not now. He has caught the interest and attention of some very well-placed scholars.”
She scowled. “That is exactly what I have been afraid of.”
“Afraid of?” Penelope spoke up and Sterne tensed. “Lady Pemdale, you should be proud of his efforts. His ideas are original and fascinating and could help us understand so much about ourselves, as Englishmen and as humans.”
“Poppycock.”
Penelope straightened. “No, indeed. Not to anyone with an interest in the natural sciences. Or a modicum of empathy.”
He stilled. Something inside of him shifted, rocked to and fro like the ground heaving in an earthquake.
She’d defended him. In generous and elegant terms. Against his mother.
“Good heavens, it is worse than I thought.” His mother glared at him. He just looked back with an even expression. He couldn’t manage more, if he tried. He was still trying to adjust to this entirely new feeling—thisknowing. The knowledge that this slip of a girl, whom he’d kissed and caressed and just presented with a public message pushing her away and into the pool oftongentlemen, had defied his mother to stand up for him.
“You’ve let yourself burrow into a nest of fools,” his mother continued coldly. “True friends would urge you toward your real life’s work. Marriage. Family. Preparing yourself to become a peer of the realm.”
“Many a peer of the realm exists usefully and purposefully, without ruling over a pocket borough,” quipped Whiddon. “I include myself, of course.”
“Insolent,” she hissed, low and venomous. She sent her glare around the room, wielding it like a weapon. “You are all naught but—”
“That’s enough, Mother.” Sterne stood, finally coming back to himself. He’d learned to stop allowing her to heap her abuse on him. He’d be damned if he permitted her to do it to those he cared about. “I’ll walk you out.”
She pulled in a breath, composed herself and stood. “That won’t be necessary.” Without another word, she swept from the room.
He sent a look of apology around, then followed her out.
* * *
“If you will takenote of this sketch, Miss?” The modiste spread out an image of a fashionable gown. “See the layers? The skirts that are pulled back and draped behind? The puffed sleeves—to which we could attach gossamer wings?” The woman’s eyes were alight with excitement. “Now, step up to the dais, if you please?”
Penelope did as the modiste asked and smiled as she began to drape her with gorgeous fabrics in purples, blues and greens.
“Can you not imagine it, Miss? You will be stunning.”
“Peacock feathers on your mask and in your hair,” Hope said from a nearby chair, where she sat, perusing dress designs. “Oh, it will be beautiful.”
“But the gorgeous peacocks are male,” Penelope reminded her. “The peahens are rather more drab, are they not?”
“Who would dare remark upon it, once they have seen you?” Hope asked. “Drab? I do not think so. And in any case, can you see any of the gentlemen dressing as a peacock? No. We shall not allow such a wonderful idea to go to waste.”
“The sleeves covered in gold-beaded netting and gilding on the feathers fixed to the wings.” The modiste sighed. “I am inspired, Miss. I can see it all so clearly in my mind.”
“Well, then, we must not interfere with your muse,” Penelope relented. She began to twist and turn a bit, making the fabrics flare. As she spun toward the front of the shop, she nearly stopped in shock, but caught herself in time.
“Hope,” she said, low and urgent, even as she continued to preen. “At the shop window. Look. Quick.”
