Corseting The Earl Page 4

  Aunt Beth’s eyes widened when Heath dropped into the seat beside Pippa with a grunt. “No, it must have gotten lost in delivery. These postal coaches are so un reliable these days.”

  “I know exactly what you mean, my lady,” Percephany simpered.

  Chapter Five

  Pippa glared at Heath. He was still attired as Percephany when she opened her bedchamber door at his knock during nap hour. “Have you lost your mind? Of course you have. Just look at your attire.”

  Heath pushed past her and shut the door. “Shh, someone might hear.”

  “What does it matter?” Arms akimbo Pippa stared him down. “When my aunt finds out my mother did not send me with a chaperone, and that you are a man, my reputation will be completely in shreds.”

  “As if it is not already, or soon to be,” Heath quipped.

  She crossed her arms and pouted. “You said you would keep my secret.”

  “A promise is a promise. I will not tell a soul.”

  Pippa advanced on him, jabbing his chest with her index finger to drive home her point. “You had better not, or I shall tell everyone you are a he and the father of my unborn babe.”

  His eyes bulged. “You would not.”

  “I would so.” She gave him a triumphant smirk, daring him to protest.

  Toe to toe they stood sizing one another up.

  Finally Heath stepped back. “Well, you have brass, I will give you that. Fine, just play along for a month and then we will part ways when you return home.”

  She bit her lip. “I am not returning home.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You are not thinking of trying to pawn your bastard off on some unsuspecting young squire or baron, are you?”

  “I doubt that would work. By the time I find someone who might want to marry me it will be too late to claim the child as premature.” Pippa sighed and crossed to sit in the arm chair by the window overlooking the gardens. “I have no idea what I am going to do yet.”

  Heath dropped into the opposite chair and tugged at his corset under the orange satin frock. “I will tell you what, you help me find this spy and I will see you set up in a little cottage somewhere all your own when it is all done.”

  A glimmer of hope brightened Pippa’s heart. “You would do that for me?”

  Heath shrugged. “Why not? I can surely afford a little cottage.”

  Pippa frowned. “But how would I support myself, let alone a child?”

  “I could buy you a milk cow and some chickens.”

  “I am a merchant’s daughter, not a milk maid,” Pippa pointed out.

  “Touché.” Heath waved a hand and got to his feet. “Then I will buy you a shop of some sort. Do we have a bargain?”

  She thought on it a moment. She could do worse than a cottage and a small shop, for sure. What did she have to lose? If he were to keep his word, she’d have a respite from her dilemma; if he did not, then she was no worse off, was she? On the other hand, did he have the blunt to do as he promised? Just because he was supposedly engaged to Lady Spencer did not mean he was rich, or even telling the truth…. “How do I know you have the coin to do as you promise?”

  He stared at her with an incredulous look for a moment before he drew himself up. “I suppose you think any popper can marry into the likes of the Spencer fortune?”

  Pippa got to her feet and stood her ground. “I doubt that very much. However, I have only your say so you are even engaged to the woman, and naught but a first name to call you by.”

  “Then I suppose you shall just have to trust me, for I will not jeopardize my mission just to satisfy your morbid, jealous curiosity.” He gave her a cocky look.

  Her jaw dropped and then she snapped it shut. “Of all the gall! As if I would be jealous of a woman I have never even met.”

  “There is always a first time, Pippa.” With a wink he left her standing slack-jawed in the middle of the room, closing the door behind.

  She expelled her pent up outrage in a whoosh followed by, “Of all the cork-brained, cocksure, jackanapes….” Dropping back into the chair, she rubbed her forehead. There seemed little else to do but go along with Heath’s absurd charade.

  A knock sounded on the door and she sighed. “Now what?” she snapped, getting up, crossing the room, and flinging the door open. It took a moment to realize it was her cousin Marcy and not the cause of her temper. “Marcy, I am sorry to be so cross. I am tired from the trip.”

  Marcy pursed her lips and blinked. “I simply thought you might enjoy an afternoon shopping.” Her gaze traveled the length of Pippa’s fine but demure day dress. “I mean, it takes so long for fashion to reach the small towns….”

  Pippa tweaked the skirt of the pale pink ensemble she had worn for two seasons already. “Is that your way of telling me I need a new wardrobe, Marcy?”

  Two spots of red colored her cousin’s pale cheeks. “I…oh dear, I meant it in the nicest way.”

  Pippa sighed. “Unfortunately I am low on funds, what with papa breaking his leg.”

  Heath flounced down the hall toward them, and Pippa had the sneaking suspicion he had heard every word. “Never fret, my dears. I have an unlimited amount of coin to spend in the shops, Miss Nickle. It would be my pleasure to treat us both to a new wardrobe.”

  Marcy eyed Heath with undisguised amusement. “Well, you definitely need help in the fashion department, Mrs. Doyle.”

  His jaw tightened under all the face powder. “Please, call me Percephany. Since we shall be spending a great deal of time together, I feel we should be on a Christian name basis. It seems being a widow mired out in the countryside can be most detrimental to a lady’s wardrobe, I must agree.”

  Pippa smothered a giggle. A shopping trip, all expenses paid by Heath, was just the payback she craved at the moment. “Wonderful, shall we spend the afternoon visiting the shops then? That is, if you have no other pressing engagements, Marcy?”

  Marcy clapped her hands. “None at all. Mother is so buried in wedding details she will not even know I am gone.” She rolled her eyes. “You would think I am marrying a duke, not a simple baron. She will never get over her little sister marrying a mere merchant, it appears.”

  Though Pippa knew Marcy did not mean the comment in a nasty way, it still wounded her. Her cousin was not an unkind girl, just a thoughtless one at times. She supposed that was to be expected. After all, Marcy was the spoiled daughter of the wealthiest man in Bracenville, a man highly regarded by the elite in society. Why, it was no surprise Marcy had landed a titled gentleman. Pasting a smile to her lips Pippa scooped up her shawl. “Then shall we be off?”

  It was a short walk to the shopping district. The first stop Marcy insisted was the dressmaker. It was a large, roomy building with private fitting rooms in the back. The shop keeper and her assistant hurried to greet them as they entered.

  “Ah, Miss Allan, how nice to see you again. Is there something you are still in want of for your wedding trousseau?”

  Marcy smiled. “Oh no, Madame Buene, I simply brought my cousin, Pippa and her… chaperone, for new wardrobes. They live so far from London that I am afraid their gowns are quite out of style, you see.”

  The Madame sized up Pippa and Percephany with a shrewd look. “I have a few ready-made pieces, but it will take weeks to create a whole new wardrobe for two.”

  Pippa fingered a soft aqua blue velvet day dress with flowing sleeves and tiny pink flowers embroidered on the hem. The material was so fine and soft it took her breath away. She glanced up, met Heath’s curious stare, and dropped her hand. It would not do to let him see how much she desired such finery. “I am sure whatever you have on hand will do, Madame Buene.”

  The woman nodded and showed them to a private room. “I have plenty to fit you. However, your chaperone might be a challenge. Michelle, has the wardrobe for Lady Newand been finished?”

  “Yes, Madame, though she is not expecting it for another two weeks,” her mousey assistant answered.

  “Good, good
, perhaps some of the outfits may be easily altered to fit Percephany then?”

  Heath blanched. “No, no. There is no need to have the articles fitted. I can do so myself.”

  “Nonsense! It would be impossible for you to measure and fit the gowns yourself,” the Madame snipped.

  Pippa came to Heath’s rescue. “I assure you, I am up to the task of fitting the gowns for Mrs. Doyle as long as there are not many alterations to be done.”

  “Suit yourself.” With a snobbish tilt of her head the Madame flounced away, followed by her assistant.

  Heath mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Pippa shot him an exasperated look and then distracted herself by thumbing through the fashion plates with Marcy.

  Chapter Six

  Pippa wiped her sweat-beaded brow with her handkerchief after retching into the chamber pot in her powder room the next morning. “Oh, when will this sickness cease?” she moaned to her empty room. A tap, tap on the connecting door startled her. It opened a moment later and Heath strolled into the room with a towel around his neck, wearing pantaloons and a thin chemise. She couldn’t help a weak giggle at his appearance.

  He frowned. “The maid will discover the evidence of your morning ritual.”

  She groaned. “I cannot help it.”

  “When the maid arrives, tell her there is no need to help me dress. You may help me in her stead and in return I shall pass your chamber pot off as mine.” He paused and arched a brow.

  “What?”

  “A polite ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

  “Oh, do go away. I am not in the mood,” Pippa whimpered, her stomach rolling.

  A knock sounded on the door and Heath hurried to scoop up the defiled chamber pot. “Ask the maid to bring me some peppermint tea after she’s helped you dress. It will settle your stomach.” With the pot tucked under his arm he darted back through the connecting door and shut it softly behind.

  “Come in,” Pippa called, doing her best to look bright and chipper.

  A little maid entered. She pushed her frilly mob cap away from her face and smiled. “I am Patrice. I’ve been hired to attend you and Mrs. Doyle.”

  “Mrs. Doyle has asked me to assist her with dressing, if you would not take offense. We would not like to put my dear aunt out and besides, neither of us is used to a personal maid.”

  “Oh, no offense, miss, in truth I am but a passable lady’s maid at best, and I get paid the same whether I assist two ladies, or one.” The girl smiled.

  Pippa judged her to be little more than sixteen and she did her best to smile back in a kind way. “Thank you. I will really only need assistance with the care of my new wardrobe and my corset, though I would much prefer to leave the nuisance off.” Though far from showing, Pippa worried the restricting garment would put too much pressure on her already queasy stomach.

  Patrice glanced over her shoulder as she shut the door. “I won’t tell if you don’t, miss.”

  “Wonderful. We must hurry now so I have enough time to help Mrs. Doyle before breakfast is served. Oh, and would you mind retrieving a pot of mint tea from the kitchen for Mrs. Doyle? It seems she suffers from indigestion and claims a strong cup in the morning helps.”

  “Yes, miss.” The maid nodded as if there was nothing unusual about the request and hurried to help her dress.

  Once clothed, the maid dismissed, and tea tray in hand, Pippa entered Heath’s room through the connecting door. She found him hopping up and down on one foot trying to pull a delicate silk stocking up one of his meaty shins.

  “Blast these confounded things!” He hopped backward until the back of his thighs connected with the chair and then dropped into it with a groan. “Bloody hell, I have already ruined the other one.” He held up the mate to the crème colored stocking, which now sported a tear in the toe.

  Pippa set down the tray and crossed to stand before him. “You are doing it all wrong, is the problem.”

  He snorted. “You mean to tell me there is a right and a wrong way to put on a stocking? Rubbish.”

  She snatched the torn stocking from him and stalked to the wardrobe to retrieve another pair. “Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” Fresh pair in hand she returned to him to demonstrate. “First you roll the stocking inside out like this, then you start at the toe and roll, not yank, the stocking gently up….” She swallowed as her fingers brushed his thick calves. “Gently up, your leg… Ah…you…you better do it, to learn how, I mean.”

  His fingers closed over hers on the stocking. “Is something amiss?”

  Reluctantly she met his amused gaze. “No…I mean…well, ’tis most unseemly for an unwed woman to dress…I mean touch…a man.” She dropped her gaze and shook free of his hand.

  He snickered. “I find that highly amusing.”

  Pippa scrambled to her feet. “What?”

  He shrugged. “Well, for one who is no longer a maiden, you seem very uncomfortable around the male form.”

  Arms akimbo she stared him down. “Just because I am not…pure, does not mean I am a woman of loose morals, sir.”

  His head tilted and his gaze grew skeptical. “Well, you have at least a basic knowledge of a man’s body, which makes you worldlier than most, young miss.”

  “I do not!” Turning away Pippa crossed to the wardrobe to select a day dress for Heath. “Why I have never even seen a man’s…um…body before.”

  Heath snickered. “Ah, so ’twas immaculate conception then, like Mary in the Bible?”

  “Do not be absurd.” Pippa yanked a lemon yellow day dress from the hanger. “It was dark and…and it was over before I could do anything.”

  Leaping from the chair Heath stalked over to her. “Are you saying some scape-gallows raped you?”

  Pippa clutched the dress to her bosoms. “No! It— I, well, I wanted it…. No, it was not what I expected— It was over before I knew what was happening really.”

  His tone softened. “Ah, the green lad took no care to show you pleasure before taking his.”

  With a gasp she shoved the dress into his hands. “’Tis unseemly to discuss such things, sir.”

  “Why?” He gestured to the empty room. “We are alone here. There is no one to hear.”

  “Still.” Turning away she riffled through the chest of drawers for stocking ribbons and a corset.

  “So the insensitive cad whispered sweet nothings and empty promises in your ears until he had his way with you, and then left you with child, is that it?”

  She shrugged, not wanting to admit she had been so gullible, yet unwilling to claim she hadn’t been.

  “Did you not go to his father and press your circumstances?”

  “There would be no point,” she mumbled, plucking the items she sought from the drawer and then closing it with a bang.

  “Surely the lad’s sire would not condone such an act, unless the lad was already wed?”

  Spinning around she regarded him with annoyance. “Mitchel is not married. Unfortunately his father is the town mayor and he owns the deed to my father’s mercantile. If I were to grovel at his feet with the claim of a bastard in my belly, my family would be ruined and out on the streets, for I doubt he would allow Mitchel to undo his betrothal to an heiress. Besides, I have discovered a criminal element to Mitchel that I have no wish to tangle with, at the risk of my life. And no one is going to believe a simple merchant’s daughter over a squire’s son anyway.”

  Heath took her hand in his. “Did the blackguard threaten you?”

  She shrugged from his gentle grip. “It does not matter. We had best hurry, or we shall be late for breakfast.”

  “But surely there is something that can be done. I can insist this squire make it right. After all, I do out rank him and carry a good deal of weight in the House of Lords—”

  “Could we please not talk about it?” Pippa held up a corset of black satin, whalebone, and threaded with bright yellow ribbon. “I would rather forget it all happened.”

  “That wil
l be mighty hard in a few months’ time.”

  “Be that as it may, I refuse to think any more on the subject, or discuss it with the likes of you.” She thrust the corset into his hands. “Put this around your middle.”

  He eyed the contraption in his hands as if it were going to bite. “You are not serious?”

  “You can never hope to fit into your gowns without a corset. They are made for a woman after all, and you…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating. “…do not have any…ah…curves.”

  Holding the material betwixt his thumb and index finger he laid it against his flat stomach. “Man was not designed to have curves,” he groused.

  Pippa snickered. “Be a big boy now.” She made quick work of the lacings and braced her foot in the small of his back. “Now exhale.” When he let out a whoosh of breath she pulled as hard as she could on the laces and cinched them up tight.

  “Dear God,” Heath grunted. “No wonder women…are always fainting. How does one…breathe…in this thing?”

  “With great difficulty,” she snapped, tossing the gown over his head.

  Heath adjusted the two rolls of cloth supposed to resemble breasts in the chemise before tugging the high neckline of the dress in place. “Do you think these breasts are too small?”

  Pippa snorted. “I am sure I would not have an appropriate opinion on the subject, sir.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Why not? You are a woman after all.”

  Her face heated. “Do you go around ogling other men’s…ah…attributes?”

  Drawing himself up tall he shot her a wounded look. “Certainly not! What do you take me for? One of those reprobates who likes young boys?”

  “Well you are wearing a dress, sir.” She snickered.

  He let out a huff of air. “Well, that aside, no. I have never leered over another man.”

  “Good for you.” Shaking her head she fastened the buttons down the back of the dress. “And in answer to your absurd question, the size of one’s breasts are neither here nor there a consideration. After all, I am afraid us women are stuck with what the good Lord gave us.”