Corseting The Earl Page 7

  After patting her lips with the silk square, she handed it back. “I would be eager to see all London has to offer, my lord.”

  “Wonderful.” The viscount beamed. “I shall speak with your uncle tomorrow morning for his permission.” He rose, bowed and joined a group of men talking a few feet away.

  Heath stumbled across the dance floor, his hand tucked securely in the crook of Lord Atworthy’s elbow as the music ended. With a very unladylike, “oomph,” he plopped into the chair beside Pippa. “Lord Atworthy, would you be a dear and fetch me another glass of lemonade?”

  “Of course, of course.” The elder gent shuffled off to do as requested.

  Heath panted. “I think I am about to keel over.”

  Marcy giggled. “Faint, Percephany.”

  “No thank you,” Heath replied, struggling to breathe.

  Pippa’s peal of laughter drew a stern frown from her aunt. “I do believe my cousin is in need of some air.”

  “I suppose that will be all right. Stay together and go no further than the balcony,” Lady Allan advised.

  Taking Heath’s arm Pippa guided him to the French doors leading out onto the veranda. A cool breeze tickled the back of her neck as they strolled to the end of the darkened viewing area and then leaned against the rail.

  Heath tugged at the restricting neckline of his gown. “I thought I was going to expire. I can hardly breathe in this damned corset, and the old buzzard kept insisting on leading and tripping me up.”

  A sigh escaped Pippa. “You are Percephany, remember? As such Lord Atworthy would be the one to lead the dance.”

  He groaned. “Oh, right. It is devilish queer to have someone else lead.” Taking a lace trimmed handkerchief out of his reticule he mopped his face. “Did you find out anything of interest from the viscount?”

  “No, we have not even danced yet, but he has promised to take me to see the sights of London and bade me stay longer. I doubt my aunt will accept, however, since I am supposed to be helping with the preparations for Marcy’s nuptials.”

  “Hmm…we must find a way to get her to allow you a few days longer at least. Maybe she will accept me as a suitable chaperone.”

  “My uncle did say he had business with the House of Lords, so perhaps we will be allowed to stay on with him awhile.”

  “That would be perfect.” Heath stuffed the bit of cloth back in his reticule. “We had best go back in there before someone comes looking for us. Stick close to your viscount, and this time help shield me from his lordship’s attention. I couldn’t possibly go another round of the dance floor.”

  Pippa snickered. “You poor thing, and to think you are not even fully attired as a woman in heavy petticoats and stays.”

  “I know. I am starting to believe all of the female persuasion is noddy.”

  “Thanks,” Pippa snapped, stepping back into the ballroom.

  “You are most welcome.”

  Chapter Ten

  Pippa sighed and stripped off her gloves. It had been a long night of dancing and mingling, the likes of which she had never done before. Her head ached with the sheer number of well-to-dos she had been introduced to, the bulk of whom she would be hard pressed to ever remember a name, let alone a rank. Feet aching, she kicked off her shoes and crossed to the dressing screen. She was about to ring for her maid when someone knocked on the door.

  Assuming it was Patrice, she ducked behind the dressing screen and uttered, “Enter.”

  The door opened and shut with a click.

  Pippa detached the butterfly wings from the shoulder of the dress and set them against the wall. She turned her back to the gap between the dressing screen and wall. “Could you please undo my buttons and corset, Patrice?”

  Footsteps crossed the room and fingers fumbled with the buttons down the back of her dress. The bodice dropped and fell away as they were undone one by one. Pippa let the dress pool at her feet and then the fingers set to work on the laces of her pale pink corset embroidered with tiny dusty burgundy roses. Before long, that too loosened and fell away. With a sigh, clad only in her chemise and stockings, Pippa stepped from the circle of petticoats and fabric. “I feel terrible making you wait up for me, but I had no choice, for I could not undo my corset on my own.”

  “You can return the favor by helping me out of mine,” came Heath’s reply.

  Gasping she spun around, crossing her arms over her practically bare chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to find out what information you discovered, if any.” His gaze flitted down her figure and then returned to her face.

  “How dare you enter while I am undressing!” Pippa snapped.

  “You bid me enter.” A wry smile curved his lips.

  Pippa snatched up her discarded gown and held it before her. “It is unseemly for you to see me unclothed.”

  “You see me unclothed all the time.”

  “That is entirely different, sir,” Pippa sputtered, growing cold standing there.

  Heath shrugged and handed her the nightdress laid out on the foot of the bed. “Why should it be?”

  In haste she stuffed the night dress over her head with one hand and yanked it down into place while trying to keep herself shielded with the costume. “You are a man, that is why.”

  “And you are a woman. We have both seen the opposite sex naked before.” He stepped back as she exited the screen.

  “The difference is….” Pippa paused, unable to voice a plausible protest. “I…you…oh!”

  He stepped closer and took her hand. Drawing her to him he lowered his voice, “Is it because you see yourself as tarnished? I assure you, I see you as nothing less than a beautiful woman.”

  Pippa swallowed and stared up into his clear blue eyes. There was no teasing in them, just soft desire she had never seen in Mitchel’s before. “I—” His gaze dropped to her mouth as the tip of her tongue slipped out to brush her lower lip. Mesmerized she locked gazes with him as if, in slow motion, his head dipped to claim her lips with his own. Mitchel’s kisses had been wet and sloppy, but the soft brush of Heath’s lips was intoxicatingly sweet. Her free hand rose of its own accord to rest at the nape of his neck where the blonde curls of his wig dangled. Her sigh of wonder parted her lips, giving him access to probe deeper. When the tips of their tongues touched, a flash of desire tightened her loins. How could Heath’s simple kiss affect her more than the probing of Mitchel’s experienced hands?

  A shriek broke the wonder. They broke apart and looked to the door. The maid stood there, a look of complete horror on her face.

  “Damn,” Heath mumbled.

  “It is not what you think, Patrice.” Pippa hurried to draw the horrified maid into the room and shut the door before anyone else came along. Saint’s alive, how am I going to explain this?

  Heath stepped over to block the door. After clearing his throat he pitched his voice in Percephany’s usual shrill tone. “Oh, dear no, I assure you ’tis not what you think, dear. Why I was….” He glanced at Pippa. “I was simply teaching the poor dear to kiss, is all. Why she has never even been kissed before and the viscount was so smitten with her....”

  Pippa smothered her shock at the explanation. “Yes, I…you see I was afraid if his lordship were to steal a kiss he would find me woefully…inexperienced.”

  The maid looked doubtful, but nodded. “I see.” She squinted at Heath’s now crooked wig. “I just came to help you undress.”

  “Oh, thank you, but as you can see, Mrs. Doyle has already kindly helped me and I will return the favor by helping her now, so you may go back to bed.” Pippa took the maid by the arm and led her to the door. “Thank you again.”

  Once the maid was out the door, Pippa spun on Heath with venom. “How dare you!”

  He stepped back clearly surprised by her anger. “I beg your pardon?”

  Fingers clenched at her sides, she glared up at him. “How dare you think me so dull witted and wanton to let the likes of you seduce me for your amusement!�
��

  His eyes widened. “I thought nothing of the sort—”

  “Get out,” she said, biting off the words, as she shoved him to the door. After yanking it open she pushed him out into the hall.

  “But, you have to help—”

  Without waiting to hear him out, she slammed the door in his face. “Oh, all the gall…. Why, I— I…ooh!” Fuming she crossed the room, flicked back the covers and crawled into bed. “Cad.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After a night spent tossing and turning, Pippa resisted the urge to snip at the maid who came to help her dress the next morning in irritatingly chipper fashion. After she dismissed the girl Pippa went to aid Heath. She found him sitting at the dressing table clad in tights, a chemise and the striped corset. Puzzled, she regarded him as she shut the door. “How did you manage your corset by yourself?”

  He shot her a pained look as he applied paint to his face. “I slept in it last night, thanks to you.”

  “Oh.” She crossed to the wardrobe.

  “It was terribly uncomfortable too,” he groused.

  Pippa sniffed. “Well, it serves you right.”

  “Really? Why?”

  She cast him a dirty look over her shoulder. “It serves you right for trying to seduce me.”

  His sigh reverberated. “I was not trying to seduce you. I was merely showing you how desirable a woman you are, despite your belief you are an ugly old maid.”

  She stiffened. “Ugly old maid? I do not think I am anything of the sort. I am…tarnished. No man will want me now, but that is perfectly all right. I have no need of a man…not once you buy me a shop and cottage for helping you, that is.”

  “Ah, but you have yet to help me, unless, of course, you were able to glean any information from Sir Rylee last eve.”

  “I help you pretend to be a woman every day.” Pippa pulled a pea green frock from the wardrobe and went in search of matching stockings.

  “I apologize. That you do. However, the sooner I get the information I seek, the sooner I can get out of these ridiculous clothes.”

  Pippa returned with the clothing items and held them out to Heath. “Apology accepted, I suppose. Lord Rylee did not mention a word of Charlotte, but he did say he and a Fester Whitfield had a meeting this morning, after which he asked to take me for a drive in his gig through Hyde Park.”

  Heath took the clothing and narrowed his eyes. “Whitfield, eh? Hmm…. He is a slimy one, he is. Rumor has it he has had a hand in many a conspiracy, though nothing has ever been proven. Did he say where this meeting was to take place?”

  Pippa shrugged. “Someplace called…The Bull and Tankard.”

  “Ah, yes, the inn on the west side of London famous for their fried oysters and ale.”

  “What a revolting sounding combination, seafood and tart apple cider.” At Heath’s snicker she frowned. “What?”

  His eyes danced with mirth. “Not seafood. Bull testicles and liquor.”

  The very idea made Pippa’s already queasy stomach roll, and she sprinted for the chamber pot in the bathing room, Heath’s soft guffaws drifting behind. When she finished and returned to the main room Heath pointed to the pot of mint tea and waiting cup on the bedside table. “Your tea awaits.”

  “Thank you.” Pippa poured a cup and sipped it while he rolled on his stockings and got into his petticoats and day dress.

  After doing up his own buttons, which were conveniently down the front of the dress, he settled the wig on his head. “This thing makes my head sweat and itch.”

  “Try a little chalk in your hair.”

  “Good idea.” He sprinkled a little chalk in his natural hair and replaced the wig. “I do not suppose we could talk Sir Rylee into detouring to a book shop on the way to the park.”

  “Possibly, why?” Pippa set down her now empty tea cup.

  Heath rolled his eyes. “If I have to suffer through too many more mornings of Lady Lydia’s shockingly mundane and discrete debauchery, I am going to die of boredom.”

  “I thought the book highly entertaining,” Pippa protested.

  “You would.” Heath made a face. “Why, the lord in the story has not even done anything remotely sinful yet, and I am already half way through the novel.”

  Pippa raised an eyebrow. “How can you call asking Lady Lydia to become his secret mistress not sinful?”

  “So? ’Tis done all the time. Why, Lord Herring carried on a delightfully wicked affair with Lady Astor from shortly after the birth of her son until they finally married after Lord Astor’s death ten years later.” He pulled on his gloves and smoothed his skirt.

  “Really?” Pippa pondered the theory. Being a provincial miss, she supposed she really had no idea how the lives of the ton were. “How scandalous! How do you know?”

  “These things have a way of making the gossip. How is it you went to an expensive finishing school and do not know the workings of the ton?”

  “I only attended on my uncle’s charity long enough to graduate and then returned to my town to help Papa with the mercantile. There was no money for me to have a season. Besides, Mama thought I would have a better chance of making a match with one of the local barons’ or squires’ sons. She said they were more of an achievable height for my breeding and was wary of seeing me crushed being passed over by the higher climbing gentry in the city.” The pity in his stare embarrassed her, so she stood. “Come on, or we shall be late as usual.”

  He stayed her with a gentle hand. “I find it hard to believe any gentleman would pass you over for simply a higher station, Pippa.”

  Recalling his kiss from the night before, she bit her lip and then shrugged him off. “Be that as it may, things would probably have turned out the same.” She opened the door and fled before he could reject her claim.

  * * *

  “Lord Rylee, would you mind terribly if we stopped at the book shop on the way to the park?” Heath asked.

  Pippa was hard pressed to keep a straight face at the syrupy sweetness in Percephany’s request. And the added eyelash bat was comical, to say the least.

  Lord Rylee agreed with an almost nauseated look as he guided his high stepping chestnut into the busy London traffic. “Why, of course. Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

  Heath glanced at Pippa. “It has occurred to me, since I am no longer reliant on a husband for my political opinion, that I should endeavor to inform myself on such subjects.”

  Both Lord Rylee’s eyebrows shot to attention. “Oh…how unusual. Perhaps I can be of help. As you may not be aware, I am both a member of White’s and Almack’s Clubs.”

  “Is that not highly unusual, sir?” Heath simpered, waving his fan despite the coolness of the morning.

  “It is. You see, my father was a Whig, so I am automatically a member, but my brother is a staunch Tory and acquired me an invite there as well.”

  Heath looked away as if uninterested. “And which party do you support, sir? Out of curiosity, of course.”

  “Neither, actually.”

  Pippa was intrigued. “Neither? How is that? One is either one or the other to sit in the House of Lords, is one not?”

  Sir Rylee favored Pippa with a stiff, guarded smile. “Not always. There are many lords who are either discreetly, or openly, third party.”

  “Third party? Why, I have never heard of such thing. You must explain.” Heath’s fan ceased its flapping.

  With a covert look, Sir Rylee explained in a hushed voice, “Many support a bid to replace King George with a more, liberal ruler and government. There is call for change, and when it happens many will choose the side of progress, not old fashioned reform.”

  “Hmm….” Heath made a great show of thoughtfulness. “You seem to have a very wise perspective, my lord. I believe I would like to support a government that would value a woman’s input, but alas that is impossible.”

  “Perhaps, but mayhap not.” Sir Rylee guided his horse to the bookstore. “It is said a great woma
n shall implement this liberal group and thus, perhaps, she might have a woman’s perspective on matters.”

  “You do not say! Tell me more, sir.”

  Sir Rylee pulled up and set the brake. “These things should not be discussed in public, Mrs. Doyle. Perhaps during afternoon tea we could speak of them?”

  “Wonderful! I look forward to your company this afternoon in the parlor to explain, sir.”

  Pippa snickered when Sir Rylee’s face blanched at the insinuation of a “tea date.” At Heath’s sly look, she put on a staid expression and allowed Sir Rylee to assist her in descending to the street. If nothing else, Heath’s investigations were proving an amusing distraction from her own problems.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pippa’s excuse of a headache and Heath’s of Percephany’s indigestion acting up allowed them a late afternoon in the garden, while Lord Rylee, Lady Allan, and Marcy attended a musical recital at a neighbor’s. Together they reclined on a bench by a cherub-decorated fountain.

  A heavy sigh from Heath made Pippa grin. “Are you enjoying a corset-less afternoon, sir?”

  “Most assuredly! And bare feet are certainly the way to go after a night of dancing in those awful shoes.” With a cheeky wink, he lifted his skirts to the ankles and wiggled his bare toes.

  “Oh dear, you best hope no one sees you uncovered.”

  He dropped his skirts. “I never envisioned going in disguise as a woman being so hard.”

  “Um….” Pippa turned her head to the sun and closed her eyes. “I never knew trying to keep a smile on my face when served salmon during a meal would be so hard either. For some reason the sight, smell, and mention of seafood nauseates me these days.”