Edmund winced in irritation as a burst of laughter combined with the soft chink of silverware on ceramic plates momentarily deafened him to the conversation opposite. Instead of enjoying dinner with his lucky Penny he was sat between two pretty girls who appeared to have only one brain between them. They cheerfully accepted his mumbled noises as conversation as he strained to hear the beautiful widowed Duke of Strathmore practice his legendary charm on Priscilla. Edmund sneered as the Duke glanced at him with a faint smile. Strathmore looked like a terrier who’d found a rat for his evening’s entertainment; a terrier who’d be curling up in front of the fire with a full stomach.
Edmund had unwittingly made an enemy of the Duke by winning the man’s carriage in a game of cards. Ever since that ill-fated game the Duke of Strathmore had inexplicably gone out of his way to make Edmund’s life hell. As fate would have it, sometimes good luck was really bad luck wearing a tawdry wig and a thick layer of face paint. Edmund knew that faint smile meant the older man was about to give Edmund a verbal kicking. The temptation to throw his plate at the Duke’s head was overcome; he’d be damned by the ton as an intolerable bore and Strathmore would win.
There was nothing to do but ride out the storm and hope Penny wouldn’t despise him at the end of it. She’d only glanced eleven times in his direction. The number was all wrong. It needed to be an even number. He willed her to look at him and end the excruciating anxiety. If she looked at him one more time he could swallow without choking, but Strathmore’s hypnotic voice appeared to hold her spellbound. She looked like she’d jump off a bridge if the Duke asked her to. Edmund was relieved when several noisy guests were abruptly silenced by the act of stuffing their faces allowing him to hear Priscilla ask, “…why do you call him Pinhead?” Edmund’s face burst into flames as he mentally cursed Strathmore to eternal unrest for poisoning Penny’s mind with the hated label.
The whole table could now clearly hear the Duke say, “A few years ago Lord Mulgrave, on a dare, gave Lord Warenne a handful of pins and offered him ten thousand pounds to throw the pins into the street uncounted. Warenne couldn’t drop them. He pinned them onto his coat sleeve in groups of three at one-fourth of an inch apart and found to his dismay that the end number wasn’t pleasing. He went straight to the nearest dressmaker and bought a single pin like a drunk desperately licking the dregs of the bottle. He probably took them home and arranged them in one of his drawers. I understand he has walls of drawers constructed for his counted collections. He’s exceedingly thorough. He’s a pinhead.”
The dim beauty sitting on Edmund’s left tilted her ear towards Strathmore. “I don’t think Lord Warenne looks anything like a pin. I think he’s quite handsome.”
Strathmore’s eyes lit up with amusement, “My dear child, I commend you for attempting to swell his head. As his hatter knows, it’s greatly in need of swelling.”
Edmund glared at Strathmore as the older man raised his eyebrows silently daring his prey to defend himself. Having won a twelfth glance from his lucky Penny, Edmund could finally swallow in relief. “You’re so amusing Your Grace. It’s a pity we can’t somehow make an audible record of it for posterity, but perhaps your wit might lose something in translation. They might assume you were merely cruel and therefore a bore.” Edmund flushed with pleasure as Penny’s eyes lit up with approval. He felt like he’d slayed a dragon.
The Duke appeared unmoved. “It’s true; wit lives and dies in its own day, but that’s such a boring topic of conversation. I’d much rather hear how you, a handsome wealthy bore I mean Lord, persuaded this pretty woman to reject your hand in marriage. You must have unfathomed depths.”
Edmund felt twelve pairs of eyes pin him to his seat. One day he’d just throw his plate at the man’s head. “It’s true I accepted a wager to court and be rejected by Miss Stanley…”
A female voice down the table gasped, “How rude! The poor woman must have been mortified.”
Edmund scowled down the table. “...and I’m heartily glad I accepted the wager as I wouldn’t otherwise have met Miss Penny and that would have been extremely unlucky.”
Strathmore raised a single eyebrow, “Is it true you proposed at the dining table? Perhaps you’d care to re-enact the scene; I for one would be vastly amused.”
“I’m sure you would, but spare a thought for the lady sitting next to you who will now be viewed like a shrunken head in a curiosity shop for rejecting me.”
The dim beauty at Edmund’s right elbow tilted her head in confusion. “How do you get Penny from Priscilla? I’d call her Prissy or Cilla or Pussy...”
Strathmore turned in his chair to face Priscilla, “I apologise if my curiosity has caused you discomfort Miss Stanley. Not many women would have turned down an opportunity to be a Countess; you must be eminently sensible. I myself have decided its time to find a wife. I fear having only one son creates a need to inflict childbed on another female. I’ve been looking to find a sensible woman who could compliment my insensibilities. Why don’t you marry me?” Edmund gasped in horror along with the rest of the table. The luxurious throbbing was instantly transformed into a painful throbbing that threatened to explode his heart. He was about to throw his plate at Strathmore’s head when he noticed that Penny was looking at the Duke as if the man had asked to her take off her clothes and dance naked on the table.
“I’m afraid I don’t find that amusing Your Grace.”
“There was no amusement intended Madam. Marry me; be my Duchess.”
Edmund heaved a sigh of relief as Penny’s face contorted into disbelief. “Why would you want to marry me? I’m a complete stranger.”
“Why not? You’re pleasing on the eyes and obviously sensible. My parents met at the altar; at least I get to choose my bride.”
“I’m honoured by your offer Your Grace, but I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?” It was a nonchalant question.
“Because it wouldn’t be sensible. One can’t meet a man at dinner, marry him the next day and expect life to unfold any happiness.”
“My dear, life has so little happiness that it’s barely worth unfolding. Marry me and all your earthly cares will be null and void. I’ve been told I’m not intolerable to live with though most of my houses are so large that you could conceivably avoid me from sun up to sun down. As for those briefly shared moments of the day, I have very pretty manners and I’m obviously not unpleasant to look at; I’d wager you’d be content.”
“I’m honoured by your offer, but I can’t marry you.”
Edmund gnashed his teeth in mute horror as Strathmore reached out and touched Penny’s face. “Eminently sensible my dear; I wouldn’t marry me either.” The older man half swivelled facing Edmund as if nothing outlandish had occurred. “I wonder if proposing á la table will become the next silly craze. I can’t say I was the first, but perhaps it’s best to leave such honours to a pinhead…” Edmund wasn’t listening. He was watching Penny’s eyes flutter around her plate as if unable to settle. His lungs filled with air as she looked up at him. He had the distinct impression she was smiling even though there was no obvious upward turn to her lips. His wink caused her cheeks to surge with a glorious colour that made him feel like dancing. Penny had just turned down one of the most eligible bachelors in the Kingdom; the luxurious throbbing pulsed victoriously through his veins. Was he imagining it, or did Penny prefer a nose picking Earl over an impeccable Duke? Since walking away from her chamber door he’d spent a lot of time imaging things. Every other day he’d fluctuate between wanting to kidnapping Penny and checking himself into Bedlam; his two halves refused to compromise, threatening his once pleasant life with the agony of eternal seesaw. His feelings made no sense, but his lucky encounter with her horrid cousin had resolved the issue. Turning to find Penny staring up at him with kissable lips parted in amazement, the seesaw had landed with a bump on the side that demanded he marry her immediately.
Edmund stood up with the other men and managed to get another wink as he caught his Penny’s eye before she left for the Drawing room with the other ladies. The luxurious throbbing demanded he follow, but his host, Lord Llewellyn, beckoned. “Lucky. Come have a drink and tell me more about this wager. What ever did you do to dissuade old Prissy from dragging you to the altar?”
“I made myself thoroughly disgusting. I could barely stand myself.”
Strathmore gave the man sitting in the chair next to Edmund a look and the man fled. The Duke sat down and offered his glass for filling. “So tell us Pinhead, what exactly did you do to frighten off that pretty penniless bird desperate for a perch?”
Edmund turned to find Strathmore’s sneer three inches away. “She’s obviously not desperate enough to perch on you.” Snickers of laughter were silenced by a look from the Duke. “She’s not penniless either; she has a two thousand pound annuity that begins the day she weds. She’d probably have married years ago, but she has this silly notion that she’s bad luck. It’s rubbish of course. Luck is all about perspective.”
Strathmore raised a single eyebrow. “You’re quite a sage Pinhead. Have you any other advice for us regular headed mortals?”
“Keep addressing me as Pinhead and I may pin you to the floor.” The other men in the room watched wide eyed as Strathmore smiled as if amused.
“You must be what, twenty-two? No wonder Miss Stanley turned you down boy. No woman wants to wipe her babe’s bottom and then turn to wipe her husband’s nose.”
“You know I’m twenty-six.”
“Do I?”
“How old were you when you married Strathmore; twenty? Did your wife ever wipe your nose?” Even Lord Llewellyn blanched as Edmund mentioned the unmentionable subject. Strathmore’s wife had died in childbed less than a year after their marriage. It was rumoured he’d killed several men for slighting her memory. It was known he’d pummelled half a dozen for the same offence.
“You are a pinhead.” The words were almost a sigh of exasperation.
“Your opinion means nothing to me Sir. Now if you’ll excuse me I wish to join the ladies…”
“I’m sure Llewellyn could find you a dress…”
Edmund curled his lip in disdain as he unconsciously cracked his knuckles. “You wear it Strathmore. With your willowy figure you’ll look just like one of your sisters, but you might want to shave first or that black shadow will give you away.”
Strathmore raised a weary eyebrow. “I hope you’re writing these down Pinhead. It won’t be long before you’ve squeezed the last witty retort from your tiny brain. Whatever will you do? Personally, I recommend you buy a monkey to sit on your shoulder and throw peanuts at me. Now that would be entertaining. Over time it might become your friend and if you’re really lucky it might even marry you.”
“Strathmore, you amaze me…I find this conversation even more ennui than our last one. Perhaps we could avoid speaking unless you plan to kill me with boredom. Be so good as to wait until I too have a son. It would only be faire. Gentlemen.” Bowing politely Edmund escaped into the drawing room, but Lady Catherine had sent her companion up to bed. Aching with anxiety at being unable to speak with Penny and accomplish the reason for his attendance, Edmund found himself turning endless pages of music for a dim beauty asked to play the pianoforte. Luckily he wasn’t expected to talk. His body was trapped, but his mind was free to return to his favourite subject. Was Penny sleeping? Was she thinking of him? Would she think his need to count things made him unsuitable husband material? The thought caused a crippling wave of anxiety. The wave passed in time to turn the page. Edmund couldn’t understand why other people didn’t need to count things or arrange objects in precise geometry, it was completely normal to him. Why would he throw a handful of pins in the street for ten thousand pounds? He didn’t need ten thousand pounds, besides Mulgrave was kept on a short financial leash by his mother. He wouldn’t have been able to pay the money anyway and that would have been a waste of pins. Besides, knowing how many pins he had ensured he’d be able to use them more efficiently; counting things was perfectly sensible. The fact Strathmore and his ilk couldn’t understand it proved them insensible.
Edmund hoped it wouldn’t take long to persuade Penny to become his Countess. The luxurious throbbing was maddening; if he didn’t hold her in his arms soon he would end up in Bedlam. His third proposal might have been rejected, but he had high hopes for his fourth. He’d ensure it was private and convincing. His wandering thoughts momentarily returned to the present. Looking around he found Strathmore staring at him with a look of hatred that made Edmund wish he had a loaded pistol in his pocket. Rebuked for not turning the page in time, Edmund was luckily given an excuse to turn his back on the Duke as he imagined the man marrying a monkey. The dim beauty singing as she played the piano thought Edmund’s smile was for her. She filled her lungs and stretched her skills to sing her best in hopes of attaching his affections. Edmund used the pleasant interlude to formulate his plans for winning his wager. Fed, watered, and inspired; Edmund couldn’t wait to go to bed so he could get up in the morning and pay a call on the woman upstairs. After weeks of grim grey monotony, life was once again painted in a livid rainbow of colour. Everything was going to work out; it always did.
Go to chapter 8