Page 37 of The Confessions of a Lady
Time doesn’t equate to depth of feeling.
He hated when Philippa was right. It was galling.
Despite their short acquaintance, he did know Penny Smith. The raw, violent, desperate essence of her. It was the same mystical substance as his own soul.
The brougham stopped with a lurch as the driver leaped from his seat and landed on the gravel drive with a crunch of boots against stone. They were home.
‘I insist you rest for the remainder of the day, Miss Smith.’ Their stolen moment was over. ‘It is your day off, after all. Surely the others won’t begrudge you that?’
Penny exhaled in a uniquely feminine sound of annoyance. ‘Fine. But tomorrow, I shall resume my duties, my lord.’
Liam pulled her skirt down and helped her remove her legs from his lap before the driver opened the door. The scene inside the brougham was significantly less scandalous than moments before, but it would still raise eyebrows amongst the beau monde. A maid riding in the carriage with her lord. As if they might be equally important. Completely untoward.
Fools. All of them.
And Liam was the biggest of them all. A fact he meant to change.
10
Penny awoke the next morning with a stiff ankle and a very excited Molly shaking her shoulders.
‘Wake up! Wake up, Penny! Dear God! Your poor face! I can’t believe you slipped and ran right into a wall. Mother always says I’m clumsy, and still I’ve never done something as dozy-headed as that.’
Penny bit her tongue and struggled into a sitting position. ‘What is going on, Molly, that you must shake the wits right out of me?’
The laundry maid’s face broke into a bright grin. ‘You’ll never believe wot’s down in the kitchen for us,’ she squealed, reminding Penny how very young the girl was. Only five-and-ten, yet already excelling in the laundry. Molly was jumping up and down next to Penny’s bed.
‘What the devil has gotten into you, Molly?’
‘New clothes! For us! Lord Renquist ordered us all new clothes and they were just now delivered. Shoes, coats, hats! It must have cost him a fortune. Mrs Harding said she’s never seen the like. She thinks he must have lost his mind. First a tutor, now this. But I think it’s marvellous. Brand-new dresses, petticoats,everything! Can you even imagine? Come on! We must go down. He has different sizes for all of us. They’re laid out with our names pinned to each packet. I bet no one will even notice your face when you’re wearing a brand-new uniform!’ Not waiting for Penny, the young girl made a mad dash for the door, her footsteps clattering down the wooden stairs.
Penny shook her head at the unintended insult and dressed as quickly as she could, her ankle screaming every time she put weight on it. Her cheek was a cluster of bee stings burning at once. While she had no mirror, based on Molly’s painfully honest comments, she must look a right fright. Rummaging in the small box she kept next to her bed, she found a pot of salve from her mother. Linseed oil, camphor, honey, and lard, plus a few odds and ends her mother refused to share the details of. It would help with the bruising and speed the healing. A good thing when the injury was so visible. She needed to hurry downstairs, but it was worth the few moments she lost to smear the medicine carefully on her cheek and eye before hurrying out of the room.
New clothes. It was unimaginable. Could this possibly be because Liam had noticed her threadbare skirt and broken shoes?
No. Absolutely not.
And yet, the timing was highly suspicious.
Evil men don’t act with such kindness or consideration.
The bees who stung her cheek must have swarmed into her ear, taking up residence in her mind, for her thoughts were buzzing and chaotic.
Penny took her time brushing and plaiting her hair, twisting the braid into a neat bun. She eased her swollen foot into her still-wet and ratty shoes, then carefully clopped her way to the kitchen.
She might be illiterate, but she wasn’t ignorant enough to mistake the shape of her name.
Penny Smith.
Scrawled in neat, steady script. Did he write her name? Had his hand formed the letters identifying her from a sea of domestics?
Don’t be stupid. It was likely one of the poor seamstresses tasked with sewing so many uniforms with no time to rest.
Or perhaps he had bought the lot, ready-made. Honestly, what did it matter? The entire staff were receiving new clothes. Wasn’t that something to celebrate?
Penny lifted each layer of clothing with a shaking hand. Three new dresses. Petticoats. Four pairs of warm woollen stockings. A shining black pair of half-boots. One smart straw hat with a fetching green ribbon, and at the very bottom of the pile… three hat pins.
Damnation.
