An Elaborate Hoax (A Gentlemen of Worth Book 5) (14 page)

“Books?” he repeated, unenthused. The image of the library filled with books, none of which he had read, came to him. “Dreadful.”

“What about single-handed loo or faro?” she offered.

“No such thing. Besides, playing cards alone would be deadly dull.” Although, if David remembered correctly, there were solitaire card games one could play. But what was the fun if one could not wager and share the sport and perhaps a drink or two with a friend?

“Well, sir, I suggest you find something you might wish to do to occupy your time. A new hobby, perhaps? If it happens to be an improving activity, it could not be better.”

“You’re not suggesting bees, are you?” he joked. “Or cultivating pineapples?”

“Nothing as rustic as that.” Penny’s smile shone more in her words than on her lips.

“There’s a pianoforte over there. I suppose I could learn to play it.” David motioned to the far side of the room. He had it in his mind that she knew how to play and could, perhaps, instruct him.

“You had lessons when you were a boy!” Mrs. Sutton reminded him. “You can’t have forgotten.”

“Did I?” He had not a single recollection. “I must have blocked it from my mind.”

“He never did like to practice,” Mrs. Sutton grumbled.

“Then I’ll give up that notion.” David waved the idea away with the flick of his wrist. “I won’t waste my time attempting it again.”

The ladies settled into their chairs and opened their books, arranging themselves to be comfortable.

“What do you say to my sketching your silhouette, my dear?” Feeling in jolly spirits, David thought of no better way to fill the evening.

“I really do not think it necessary, sir. Nanny or Mrs. Sutton can—”

“The paper, pencil, and candles still remain where you left them, ma’am,” Mrs. Sutton informed her. “It would be a small matter of replacing the paper and lighting the candles to make preparations.”

“Oh, yes, do let me have a stab at it,” he encouraged. Or was it begged?

“Do not bother, Mrs. Sutton, it is of no import. I shall have it ready for Mr. Cavanaugh in a thrice.” Mrs. Parker set her book aside and rose to make preparations. Mrs. Sutton, even though she had not been asked to help, followed suit.

“How accommodating you both are.” David rubbed his hands together, more than ready to get started. “This could be a great deal of fun, really.”

By the time he arrived, the chair had been placed in the proper position, the paper had been attached to the wall, and both candles burned bright.

“Well done, ladies,” David praised with great admiration.

“I shall return to my book if I am no longer needed.” Mrs. Sutton excused herself.

“I am certain we can manage. Thank you.” All that was left was the enjoyable part. David would remain in the shadows of the far corner of the small parlor with Mrs. Parker sitting statue-still, completely at his mercy. “And if you would be so good as to sit here.” He held the back of the chair and waited for her to be seated.

Arranging her skirts around her, she spoke softly. “You appear to be in a very good humor this evening.”

“And why should I not be?” He leaned close and whispered, “We managed to avert a possible discovery by our neighbor, avoided a very precarious situation with the staff, and had a completely successful meeting between the children and Gran. It has been a most splendid day.”

“A most nerve-wrenching day, but I must agree with you, all has turned out well.” The euphoria felt by him did not entirely appear to be shared by her.

“I would have a grand celebration if it would not arouse suspicion.” David noticed several sharpened pencils lay on the table, presumably for the task ahead.

“Instead you decide to make do by sketching my shade?” Mrs. Parker remained still and offered no instruction of how he should proceed.

“You must own my choices to amuse myself are limited. I find distraction where I can.” Making his choice, David took his writing implement in hand. “I merely outline your shadow with this pencil?”

“That is correct.”

“And you, madam, are to remain still.” He stared at the shadow she cast against the paper posted on the wall and contemplated where he should begin.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

“Well, then, please do so.” David knew she would have the best intentions to keep from moving, but he knew better. From his own experience, her nose would tickle or some tingling on her neck would occur.

In the ensuing silence he noticed how distinctly her eyelashes appeared, and he resisted the urge to admire them. He moved downward and studied her shapely nose. It turned up a little just at the end, very lovely, indeed. David wondered why he had never noticed Penny—Mrs. Parker.

Well, she was not quite the type of lady who would turn his head. She did not run in the same crowd as he. As far as he knew, she did not go about in society.

No, she would not normally be someone David would have noticed. However, now . . . now . . . he thought . . . he felt . . . His attention lingered on her lips. They were of some interest—well-formed, full but not too full, and delightful to watch as she formed words, even when it was to scold him.

The longer he delayed the task of sketching her, the longer he observed her, the more he felt his opinion of her shift. The esteem that he had always had, even before this ruse on which they had embarked, moved from a platonic admiration to something more.

The elation he’d felt from the fortunate outcome of his day had just been improved threefold by the realization that it was a shared victory. That the plan, his
family
, no matter how ramshackle its origins, would never have been possible if it were not for her. How perfect she was cast as his wife and—perhaps he shouldn’t have these types of thoughts.

He’d best not delay any longer and get to work, lest she think something was amiss.

Penny sat still for a very long time. David did not ask for guidance or advice on how to proceed. He merely put the pencil to the paper and began. She remained still and quiet while he worked.

“There is nothing to this. I think I’m doing quite splendidly,” he commented after some minutes with a spontaneous artistic flair. “You will see that I have profited by your experience and have two light sources.” The candles flickered when he motioned to them. “I am in possession of more than enough paper for multiple attempts of sketches, should there be some slip of the hand, though I cannot imagine such an occurrence.”

She tilted her head, ever so slightly, as if curious to see his progress.

“No! Do not move, ma’am,” he remonstrated, just as she had done to him, and touched her shoulder with two fingers, again, mimicking the same gesture she had used on him. More than once.

“Shall I see about having tea sent in?” Mrs. Sutton offered in rather an abrupt manner, setting her reading aside. David imagined she did not wish to witness a disagreement.

Penny returned to her original position but complained, “What is that on my head? Where is my cap?”

“I find the matronly cap uninspired and removed it.” He had never seen her without her lace cap, and allowed himself to imagine how she might wear her hair, making her younger and even more attractive.

“Oh, yes. I think I’ll see to that tea at once.” Mrs. Sutton dropped her book onto her seat and flew from the parlor.

“I do not believe you have the right, nor the ability, to do so, sir.” Penny disregarded his wish for her to remain seated. With an arm on the back of the chair, she turned toward him. “You cannot simply make alterations as you see fit. The entire point of the silhouette is taking the likeness of a person.”

David stood before the sketch to look at it properly and studied his work. “I think it resembles you a great deal.”

“It is supposed to be an
exact
likeness. Is that not correct, Mrs. Sutton?” Penny glanced toward the hearth. “Mrs. Sutton?”

“She has gone to see about having tea sent in,” he informed her since the companion’s departure apparently had gone unnoticed by Penny. “The only artistic license I have taken is adding a small dimple, there.” He indicated a point near her mouth.

Penny, sounding quite affronted, turned in the chair to stare at his masterpiece for herself. “There is no dimple! What I mean to say is . . . I do not have a dimple.”

“I was only trying to make an improvement.”

“Improvement?” she gasped, sounding more outraged than amused.

“I did not mean to offend you. I meant only a
slight
improvement.” Oh, how fun it was to tease her.

“It makes no difference if you add a dimple; it will not be seen.”

“Then why, my dear, why does it bother you so?” Goodness, he may have truly offended her.

“It does not matter in the least.” She faced forward, regaining her calm. “I only think it pointless. I cannot see why you bother.”

“Why, you ask? I only do so for diversion.” He swung his gaze to her instead of furthering his argument.

And she had been correct. The dimple he had added would not be seen in his final work, but it had been interesting to imagine it winking at him as she smiled. She was not smiling at this moment. She stared forward, avoiding any further confrontation.

He studied her clear brown eyes, framed by her long lashes, nothing exceptional in their color. Still, he found the dark brown agreeable.

Her nose had needed absolutely no alteration. In fact, her adorable, slightly-turned-up-at-the-end nose might have been the most attractive nose he had ever seen. David would never change it. He turned to regard its depiction on paper, making certain that he had managed to catch it in all its endearing glory.

Chapter Thirteen

I
t had been another leisurely morning for Penny in the country. She had not realized how much she had missed this life of quiet. Yes, if she had a choice, she would not live in London but away from the dirt and noise—just outside a small village would suit her fine. And although Dorset was not remotely near Essex, the commonality of country life, if not landscape and weather, did not change her opinion in the least.

The footmen, James and Joseph, had relocated Mrs. Cavanaugh on her settee in preparation of Miss Lemmon’s afternoon visit.

“I thought we might work together and write an invitation to the Pelfrys asking them to dinner,” Madam suggested. “Miss Lemmon will be calling this morning, and she can deliver it to Manfred Place. You and Davy have decided when to have them, have you not?”

Not really
, Penny admitted to herself. But she would do whatever it was that pleased David’s grandmother.

“I do wish I could welcome the Pelfrys with you, but I’m afraid if the date was set in a fortnight’s time I could not.” Grandmother Cavanaugh sounded so sad. “I am not quite well enough, you see. So there is no use in putting it off until I am able.”

“I’m certain there will be many other dinner parties. You shall grow stronger and soon join us.”

“Of course you are right, my dear. What do you think about setting the date for next Tuesday? It is ideal, is it not?” Grandmother Cavanaugh went on decisively. “It is not an entire week, yet it is far enough from today to set the menu, alert the staff, and order what is needed without causing great turmoil.”

“Tuesday sounds fine.” Penny could not have settled on a more perfect day for the very reasons Mrs. Cavanaugh stated. It was difficult to believe the elderly woman had been ailing, but it had not affected her mind.

“If you will go to my writing desk, next to the window”—she pointed across the room, indicating the piece of furniture—“you’ll find some paper in the center drawer. On the left you shall find the quills.”

Penny did as she was asked. She set a few sheets of paper on the surface of the desk while she sought the materials. Inside the drawers were a great number of feather quills, but the tips were dull or cracked.

“Fetch my writing slope, will you, James?” Mrs. Cavanaugh sent him to another part of the room with a wave of her hand. “It’s been so long since I’ve penned a letter. Sutton usually takes care of most of my correspondence. Place my writing slope here, thank you.” The footman carried the item to the small, round table for her inspection. “There should be some ink and quills in here as well. Let us have a look, shall we?” She lifted the lid and removed several quills and stated disagreeably, “These will not do at all.”

“These need to be sharpened as well.” Penny returned to the settee, where she collected all the quills that needed repair.

Mrs. Sutton entered the bedchamber, followed by Miss Lemmon.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cavanaugh, and to you as well, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” Miss Lemmon greeted.

“Oh, that does sound silly!” Madam giggled. “I beg your pardon, Miss Lemmon. How do you do? I am so very pleased to see you. Do come in.”

“How well you look, Madam. I can hardly believe that it has been only a day since I have seen you.” Miss Lemmon appeared truly impressed.

“I am feeling very well, thank you,” Grandmother Cavanaugh replied. “We were just about to draft an invitation for a dinner party next week.”

“How lovely,” Miss Lemmon remarked, delighted in that bit of news. “I know it is Charity’s dearest wish to visit you again. It has been quite a while.”

“Dear Lady Pelfry does not call as often as you; it is most unfortunate. You will stay and read
Emma
to us, will you not?” Madam had the novel in hand, ready to pass it on to the visitor.

“I would be delighted,” Miss Lemmon replied. “I had rather looked forward to it, actually.”

“Allow me to take your bonnet and pelisse, since you’ll be staying,” Mrs. Sutton offered.

Miss Lemmon unfastened the frogs on her pelisse and suddenly stopped before pulling her arms from the sleeves. “Oh! I nearly forgot.” She pulled a folded paper from a pocket and held it out to Penny. “Sir Benjamin asked me to deliver this to Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“I shall make certain he receives it.” Penny slid it into a pocket of her day dress.

After removing her outerwear and handing it off to the companion, Miss Lemmon collected
Emma
from Madam and settled in a chair. “My sister has no notion what an engaging story she’s missing.”

“Never fear, I shall loan her the volumes once we have finished.”

“Reading alone shan’t be the same, as we share every detail and discuss the story’s direction.”

“That is why I choose to remain here.” Penny situated herself at the writing desk next to the window, which provided ample natural light. Pulling out a sheet of paper and a penknife, she sliced a new edge on the first quill. “I do not wish to miss a word.”

Miss Lemmon opened the book and continued with Emma’s story. Miss Woodhouse insisted Mr. Knightley be invited to their family dinner, where she told him they should put their disagreement behind them and become friends once again.

There was no reason why Emma and her Mr. Knightley should not mend their friendship was the consensus. Soon after Miss Lemmon began to read, Penny’s interest in the story waned, and it wasn’t long before she found herself reflecting on the events of the prior evening.

She, of course, had become vexed with Mr. Cavanaugh for embellishing her likeness. Sketching her without her cap, then adding curl to her hair and a dimple to her cheek was the height of presumption. That was how she’d felt last night.

Today, however, Penny felt differently. David should not have done it. It was a silly thing. What bothered her was how intimate his actions had been.

He had been staring at her, studying her for quite some time in order to make the alterations. He really had no right to do so. David was not her husband, as he currently pretended, that he could take such liberties.

“I do most sincerely apologize,” he’d said just before Mrs. Sutton had returned with a tea tray. “No one shall look upon it, if that is what you wish.” David removed the sketch he had nearly completed from the wall and handed it to Penny to do as she pleased.

“Thank you,” Penny murmured. “I would rather no one see it.” She had been glad of his offer. The three of them sat to tea and remained quiet for the rest of the evening. Even after Penny had returned to her bedchamber she could not look upon the image. She kept it facedown upon the writing desk in her bedchamber and eventually consigned it to the top of the high dresser as if by placing it there she could hide it from the world.

Penny was certain she could, as Emma had Mr. Knightley, forgive David for his lapse, given enough time.

“Excuse me, ma’am. May I have a moment of your time, if you please?” David had waited in the breakfast room and specifically listened for Penny to descend the staircase. He knew to take particular care when addressing her, for they had not parted last night on the best of terms, and he so wished to make amends and have them go along in a comfortable way.

“Certainly, sir.” In her hands she held a sheet of paper, folded in an odd fashion as if it contained something. “Allow me to attend to this first, if you will.” She stepped from the corridor, and disappeared from the very same breakfast room whence he had just emerged.

David observed how lovely she appeared in a cornflower-blue dress. Even the lace cap, which he had so unceremoniously removed from her silhouette the night before, had embroidered flowers in the same blue color.
Quite charming
.

Seeing her now, the coolness with which she spoke, reminded David how much he regretted his behavior last night. She did not deserve to be treated in such a careless fashion, and he really was too old to behave in such a juvenile manner.

“Would you care for a walk in Gran’s rose garden?” he offered when Penny returned.

Her gaze darted about, and she appeared most anxious. “Is it—”

“No, no. Nothing is amiss.” He forced a smile, hoping it would reassure her. “It is only . . . Do you not think it a lovely afternoon for a turn about the garden?”

“Oh. I see. Very well then. We shall stroll outdoors if that is what you wish.” She moved down the corridor and walked toward the back of the house.

David fell in stride next to her, clasping his hands behind his back. He had to say something to make the both of them feel at ease. He had the urge to apologize again. Yet how could the dratted matter of the silhouette fade if he were continually bringing it to the surface? No, best let the subject remain unspoken.

“I went to the nursery to visit the children,” he managed, thinking that speaking of the children would be safe. “Is it my imagination, or do Davy and Lucy spend every afternoon at Manfred Place?”

“Well, not every afternoon. They do have the most entertaining diversions there, and Lucy and Davy rub along so well with the Pelfry children. I really do not have the heart to deny them.”

David sighed. “I’m all for having them enjoying themselves but, faith, I thought that I was to . . . you had quite convinced me I should make every effort to spend more time with them.”

“Yes, you did, and I am relieved to know you intend to keep your word. They had the most wonderful time with you. It is unfortunate they do not have a free afternoon.” Was that a bit of compassion creeping into her voice?

“I have, it has turns out, an inordinate amount of time on my hands.” He stated the concern that had recently come to light. “There are only so many times I can visit Gran—even I am limited. You would not think that to be true.”

“I should think you could call on her anytime you wished.”

“No, I must tell you, it is a struggle for me to have an audience with her. She still rests a great deal.”

“As she is regaining her strength,” Penny reminded him, justifying Gran’s position.

“—and is either with Dr. Harding’s sisters or Miss Lemmon, and then there are the occasional visits from her other friends who edge me out of her bedchamber if I should have the ill fortune of standing there.”

“That hardly seems right.” Penny’s confusion was clear, and she understood his grievance.

“It ain’t right! I’ve offered to read to her, just as you or Miss Lemmon might, but she won’t have it. She don’t think I can do the story justice is what she means. It’s because I’m not female.” David observed the corners of Penny’s lips turn upward as she tried to mask her smile. “I know she never meant it as an insult, but I cannot help but feel unwanted. I know she adores me, but really, why should she not allow me to read to her? The silly books were a gift
from
me in the first place!”

“I am certain it is not, in any way, a personal slight. She adores you, of course.” Penny brought her hand up to her mouth, doing her best not to give in to laughter, or at least, to try to mask it. “I beg your pardon. I cannot think why it seems so humorous. I know you can read, and I’m sure you can very well. It is just that you do not know the story or the characters,” she tried to explain to him. “How could you possibly discuss their actions and carry on an informed discussion?”

“I expect that is what she means. I’m sure Gran wants to know how Emma will wear her straw bonnet or if Lady Something-or-Other will serve dinner on the blue or gold china. Isn’t that what’s in those books?”

“Little you know.” Penny glanced down her nose at him. “And what do you say of Mr. Elton?”

“Who?”

“I can see why your grandmother does not care for you to read to her. You know nothing of the story. Oh, gracious!” Penny gasped as if suddenly recalling something. “Miss Lemmon brought a note from Sir Benjamin for you.” Rummaging among her skirts, she pulled the message from a pocket and held it out to him.

“I’m almost afraid to see what he has to say.” David retrieved the missive and, very reluctantly, broke the seal, opened it, and read the contents. “Well. That’s a relief.”

“What does Sir Benjamin have to say?” She gazed at him with interest.