Hunched over her thread and needle, Priscilla was carefully stitching a bright green ribbon to the crown of a yellow straw bonnet when her heart shuddered in delight. Lifting her head she quickly translated the cheerful noise in the next room into Lord Warenne greeting her cousin. Distracted from her needle, she stabbed her finger. Blinking back tears of irritation, she sucked her bleeding finger as she eyed three stacks of hatboxes and two baskets of ribbons. It was going to take her hours to complete her assigned task and until she finished she was banished from the drawing room. She glared at the connecting door left ajar by her cousin and wondered if Lord Warenne really intended to repeat his offer. If the man was going to bathe and change his smalls every other day, being Warenne’s wife would be immeasurably more pleasant than being her cousin’s skivvy. She shivered as she remembered the man’s electric fingers. Another painful jab of her needle brought her painfully back to her senses in time to hear Lord Warenne politely ask after her. Biting her wounded finger, Priscilla froze as she strained to hear the conversation. “…is she poorly?”
“The ingrate is sewing in the next room.”
“What? Through there?”
“Yes, I fear Strathmore’s whimsical offer has swollen her head. She must learn her proper place.”
“Strathmore has that affect on women; he probably did it for a wager.”
“Why else would the Duke of Strathmore offer for Priscilla? Why would any man offer for her? The creature is hardly the sort you’d want to chain to your table let alone your bed. She was unaccountably rude to Lord Llewellyn at breakfast this morning. He politely asked her to sit next to him and do you know what she did?”
“No. What?”
“She ignored his repeated request and pointedly sat at the other end of the table. She does not appreciate how lucky she is that we’ve taken her in. She’ll do as she’s told or she won’t be sitting at my table again.”
“That was rather rude, but perhaps she had a reason.”
“I think she’s sulking. I think she’s still in love with Llewellyn. She’s jealous he didn’t ask her to marry him. She thinks I stole her suitor as if a man would marry Priscilla when he could have me. She’ll learn to be polite to my husband. No one else in the family wanted to be saddled with her bad luck. My Lord Llewellyn says superstitions are silly. He kindly insisted she come stay with us. Who else would have been so thoughtful? She’s a silly old cow who needs to realise that Lords don’t marry so far beneath them as Priscilla.”
“She could have married me…”
“You had a lucky escape my Lord.”
“I think it had more to do with the fact I smelled like something you pay the night soil collector to cart away…she might be able to hear that I’ve come to call. It would be rude of me not to present myself. If you’ll excuse me a moment…”
Priscilla quickly straightened her white cap and smoothed her apron over her skirts. As she concentrated on making a stitch the door swung inwards pulling her heart towards the handsome man with smiling brown eyes. On reaching her side he silently pointed his thumb in the direction of the door and made a face as he put two fingers either side of his forehead indicating that Lady Catherine had horns. Priscilla bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud and felt her eyes fill with tears. He was good and kind; she should have accepted his third offer. The sight of her tears appeared to discompose him. He whipped out a handkerchief as he droned in a loud monotonous tone, “Good Morning Miss Penny…” He gently wiped her eyes and whispered fervently, “I missed you last night after dinner. I think your horrid cousin is trying to keep us apart. She forced me to turn music for one of the dim beauties who sat next to me at table.” And then back in the booming bored tone, “You slept well?” He kissed the corner of the handkerchief holding her tears and carefully tucked it into his waistcoat near his heart.
“Yes thank you; and yourself?”
In the booming bored drawl Edmunds replied, “Yes…like a Lord in the House of Lords…” His voice dropped back to the fervent whisper. “I woke up with indigestion after an eternal nightmare that you’d married Strathmore. If you knew how much I missed you this morning…” His voice returned to the booming bored tone, “Fine day for sewing what? Those clouds look rather unsettled. I’d wager my hat it’ll rain sometime today.” And in a whisper, “You don’t regret refusing Strathmore, do you?”
She shook her head no, “That’s what rain clouds do my Lord; rain.”
Warenne’s smile widened. “Well that’s a relief. Imagine the shock if rain clouds spat out pennies. I don’t think I’d want to have pennies dashing at me from the skies…” He gave a wink before whispering, “Fall into my arms and I’ll happily make you the crowning penny of my collection.” He pulled a small paper wrapped object from his coat pocket and thrust it at her. “You’re not very talkative this morning Miss Penny…I suppose you’ll open up later when you’re all alone?” He ogled the packet and winked again.
“Why would I open up when I’m alone?” She slid the packet deep into her inner pocket. “Your mind sounds full of cobwebs my Lord. A long walk in the bracing wind might do you good.”
“It’ll certainly benefit my hatter. Do you know what I fancy doing?”
“No my Lord. What do you fancy?”
“I think I fancy some shopping…” His voice dropped to a whisper, “…and tasting your lips. May I kiss you? I don’t smell…I don’t think…”
“I didn’t think men enjoyed shopping.”
“It depends on the shopping Miss Penny; there’s a shop that sells magnifying glasses that I used to enjoy patronising.”
“Do you have many magnifying glasses my Lord?”
“I have ninety; I tried to stop at seventy-seven, but every time I opened the drawer to use one that number, seventy-seven, would irritate me. It’s not a satisfying number when associated with magnifying glasses; though to be honest I’ve never liked that number. Ninety is the right number. I’m quite pleased with my collection. They all fit exactly into three drawers.”
Priscilla raised an eyebrow, “Do you often find certain numbers unsatisfying?”
“Yes. Even before I knew my numbers if things didn’t look right I found it very upsetting. When I was three I woke up one morning to find one my toy soldiers had disappeared from the window ledge. I was exceedingly upset; who could possibly find eleven toy soldiers satisfying? It jars the soul. The first time I had breakfast with my parents and my three older sisters, I was six. Our Uncle was visiting so there were seven occupied chairs at the table. I couldn’t eat until Mother had one of the maids sit down to make eight. Once I learned my numbers I understood that some numbers are simply unsatisfying.”
“What will you do if your wife has a dissatisfying number of children?”
“I’ll adopt, after endeavouring to give her a satisfying number of babes.”
His slow wink made her heart shudder with pleasure. It was time to change the subject before her face caught fire. “I’ve never owned a magnifying glass.”
“Really? I’ll buy you one…no I’ll buy you three. Everyone should have at least one magnifying glass; they open up the world. It gives me great pleasure to view things closely.” He put his hands on the arm of her wingback chair and leaned towards her. Priscilla glanced at the door and back into the brown eyes. “Have you ever looked at a human eye through a magnifying glass? It’s utterly fascinating…” His eyes were so close she could see golden yellow rings around his pupils. They looked like chocolate pudding drizzled with custard. She licked her lips as he held her gaze. The hairs on her neck stood up as electric fingers approached. Flinching in shock at the charged caress, the fingers froze as chocolate eyes searched her face for permission to take further liberties. Relaxing, she allowed her throat to be lightly caressed. Tipping back her head, the fingers found more skin to explore. The straw hat rolled off her lap onto the floor as electric lips thoroughly claimed ownership of her senses. The hungry kiss was reluctantly paused, her lower lip held captive. The light tension warned her ears to hear what he’d heard. Another visitor was being announced. Her unspoken wish for another kiss was granted leaving her breathless. Electric fingers caressed her throat one last time before they withdrew. It was several long seconds before she realised the loud thumping was her heart and the rhythmic glint in the corner of her eye were the silver pins holding up her apron front as her lungs begged for air. “You’ve dropped your hat Miss Penny. Am I boring you?”
She bent over and reclaimed her sewing, holding the hat to her chest as if it could protect her from temptation. “No my Lord…” His face lit up with a triumphant smile as he put a hand on his hip.
“Well I must say it’s always a pleasure to see you Miss Penny, but today has been a particular pleasure…perhaps I may be allowed to repeat it in the not too distant future?”
“That would be most agreeable…” Blushing, she glanced up from under her lashes. “…my Lord.” Her earlobe was tweaked and her cheek lightly caressed before his hands were banished behind his back.
“I feel like the luckiest man in the world Miss Penny. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Life keeps offering up the most exquisite reasons to go on living…” His voice dropped back to a whisper as his brown eyes warmed with enthusiasm. “That was the most delicious kiss. I want to kidnap you today, but I fear those blasted bonnets will keep you from getting any air. I’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow.”
“I’m glad life is kind to you my Lord.”
“Life wants to be kind to you too Miss Penny. Happiness often comes when you least expect it.”
“Not everyone is so lucky.”
“Rubbish. No one has doom printed on their forehead at birth; you’ve allowed yourself to believe that you’re doomed. You’ll never be happy if you don’t stop telling yourself you’ll never be happy. Tragedy is one side of a coin Miss Penny.”
“Yes, I believe the other side is suitably labelled Comedy.”
“No Silly, the other side of the coin is Happiness. The coin is in your hand Miss Penny; turn it over. The coin is always in your hand.” His impassioned declaration dragged her eyes up towards his face. He looked upset; as if he took her inability to believe fate could grant her happiness as a personal affront. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “I don’t understand why you can only see tragedy. What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
“An old maid…a servant…the unluckiest woman ever born.” Her tears were captured by the cherished handkerchief and returned to his waistcoat.
“When I look at you Penny, I see a woman who has been saved from countless vile unions for me. I see a woman who is…delectable. Your ears were created to ensnare me. You’re divine; I could kiss you forever. I see fate having picked you up and dropped you in Bath at my feet. This past month I couldn’t make up mind whether to kidnap you or check myself into Bedlam…”
“That’s flattering…”
“Penny, I was desperate to see you or hear word of you and when I saw your cousin I knew I had to talk with her; and then to turn and find you standing there. Seeing you was bliss like the most perfect number; I wanted to carry you away and marry you immediately. You are the luckiest penny fate has ever dropped at my feet. Can’t you see it? Don’t you feel even a little pleased to have met me? Aren’t you glad our paths have crossed again in dreary Bath? Am I just another scrubbed up suitor or might I make you feel happy to know that a stupid thoughtless wager has brought me into your life? And if you feel happy knowing I’ve come into your life, doesn’t that make you feel a little lucky?”
“I never thought of it that way…”
“You cherish tragedy, but what feels like a crown of thorns is really a diamond studded crown worn upside down. You’re a very lucky woman and I should know.”
The hat in Priscilla’s lap blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She bravely looked up and allowed herself to imagine the adoring look in the brown eyes was real. “How do I turn the coin over?” The handkerchief was again pulled out and put to use.
“Easy. You start seeing the happiness; you notice the positive aspects of whatever life throws your way. There’s always a positive and a negative. How you choose to view life largely determines your luck. If you focus on the positive you’re lucky. If all you see is the negative then you’re unlucky. Simple. Evens and odds; the dice are as loaded in favour of happiness as tragedy, but only if you notice.”
“I fear we may be playing with two different sets of dice, but I’m glad you accepted Doodle’s stupid wager. I do feel lucky to have met you, you’re good and kind.”
The man flushed with pleasure and whispered, “I feel like dancing you to the moon. I don’t want to leave you, but I should return to Lady Llewellyn or she might not let me see you tomorrow.” He dropped his voice again. “I’m going to buy you a magnifying glass. It’ll be an excuse to see you and if I’m lucky I’ll get to kiss you.” His smile faded as he glanced towards the door. “Oh no…Strathmore the plaguey pox; I hope the next time he sails to France he falls overboard in a thick fog…did I say something wrong Miss Penny? You look upset.”
“Jeremiah, my fiancé, died at sea…”
“Curse my tongue; I’m terribly sorry…no that’s a lie. Don’t hate me Penny, but if you’d married him I wouldn’t have tasted the sweetest lips ever created.” Priscilla was working up the nerve to tell him she’d equally enjoyed his kisses when the drawing room door swung inwards and the beautiful Duke of Strathmore stepped into view followed by a sour faced Catherine who was clearly displeased that her eminent guests preferred the company of her old maid cousin. Priscilla obediently bent over her hat and tried to keep her eyes on the ribbon, but they kept bouncing upwards to make sure warm brown eyes were still smiling at her. Could the man fill her life with happiness? His adoring wink made her blush as she bit back a smile. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her want to jump into his arms and press her excited heart into his green striped waistcoat. She meekly ignored the desire and braced herself for her cousin’s wrath.
Go to chapter 9