Now, it was clear as his father’s own words leapt off the page of the withered parchment. His father, Ludlow Bennett, the former Duke of St. Clara, hated the opposite sex, and he did everything in his power to keep his son from happiness.
But she had refused.
St. Clara and Pippa’s connection was one of innocence and friendship, and his father’s manipulations and betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth, ruining what they had. She had meant everything to him. Pippa was the one person he’d loved and trusted as much as his own father. It was that love and friendship that had catapulted him to propose. He’d had an urge to be with her, even then.
Resting his head against the seat of the carriage, St. Clara couldn’t help but wonder what else his father had done to keep him away from Pippa Price.
Pippa tried not to think about the banns being read that Sunday—it was only Tuesday after all. Therefore, she had fivedays until her fate would officially align with the Duke of Summerset, a man that Pippa found she truly disliked.
After their initial meeting, she doubted her decision to marry him. The duke’s demeanor was rude, his clipped tone and intense glares left her feeling lacking and somewhat afraid.
Walking down Oxford Street, Pippa stumbled as she attempted to avoid the other occupants. Clutching her chest, she made a mental note to slow down. It wouldn’t help for her to arrive to Mr. Lewis’s shop in disrepair. She was scheduled to drop off her scents, then had her weekly training with Beatrice and her sister, Jessie.
Her connection with the Lewis family had grown that Season. The success of her scents and her friendship with Beatrice Lewis cemented their bond. Having Mr. Lewis, a well-respected businessman, as her customer and backer had ensconced her into circles she would never have been allowed in on her own. Pippa knew that the members of thetonwould look down on her business ventures, but to her, it was freeing. Not only was it a way for her to stay connected to her late father, but it was an opportunity for her to be her own person.
The tailor and habit-maker shop that Mr. Lewis owned and operated stood in the center of the busy shopping district with a gleaming display window that advertised both men’s clothing and various women’s outerwear. Before Pippa could enter the shop fully, Beatrice Lewis rushed to the door, taking Pippa by the arm and pulling her unceremoniously over the threshold.
“You’re engaged?” Beatrice Lewis exclaimed wide-eyed, her dark ebony skin smooth.
“Let the lady catch her breath, Bea.” Mr. Lewis laughed as he walked over to Pippa, freeing her of the large wicker basket she was carrying.
A warm smile spread across Pippa’s face at the fatherly man who, like his daughter, always made Pippa feel like she was apart of their family. The Lewis family reminded her of what she’d lost with the death of both her parents. Though Beatrice’s mother had perished years earlier, they were a family who loved and cared for each other.
“Thank you, Mr. Lewis. I have the orders and more.” A surge of pride rushed through her, and she stood taller, holding her head higher.
It was very satisfying earning her own money and creating things with her hands. Whenever Pippa completed an order or received payment, she felt closer to her parents. They had always encouraged her to be her own person, and she was. Now, Summerset wanted to take that away from her.
She would not allow him.
“You must tell me everything about the engagement.” Beatrice tried pulling Pippa out of the shop. “But if we do not leave, Jessie will have our heads.”
The previous month, during one of their many scientific visits, Beatrice had convinced Pippa to participate in self-defense lessons taught by her sister, Jessie. At first, Pippa had tried to refuse, but Beatrice had convinced her it was a necessary skill for any young lady, even one of theton.
Pippa had reluctantly agreed and was not prepared to have the terrifying Jessie Lewis as a teacher. The lessons, though exhausting, made her feel stronger, as if she did not need another to protect her. Unlike other misses of society, Pippa never had a father to defend her. She was her only protection from someone who wanted to cause her harm, and she would always defend herself until her dying breath.
“Not so fast, Bea. I have orders and business to discuss with Miss Price.” Mr. Lewis walked over to the counter, which was covered with different materials. Elegant men’s suits and various women’s habits filled the large space. Small, intricately carved wooden animals sat on a bookshelf, most for sale, somefor decoration. Each represented Mr. Lewis’s native country of Nigeria, where he’d lived as a small boy.
Eyeing a fetching riding habit, Pippa wondered if her wardrobe would have to change now that she was going to be a duke’s wife. Swallowing down the apprehension that now filled her, she tried not to think about her upcoming wedding to Summerset or her encounter with St. Clara that had haunted her dreams the previous night.
Pippa had succeeded in not thinking of her encounter with St. Clara the previous evening. It mattered little that her skin still tingled from his touch. Or that she had never felt more alive in his presence.
It was different now that they were older. When they were younger and proclaiming themselves to each other, it was as friends who cared for the other, but never had she felt anything resembling the previous night.
“I will blame you, Papa, when Jessie shouts at us.” Beatrice folded her arms as her father began unpacking the neatly bottled scents and oils with handwritten labels and white ribbons.
“I can handle your sister. It’s the rest of London that is afraid of her.” He shook his head at his daughter before he took a deep inhale of one of Pippa’s oils.
“I’ve tried several formulas, adding cassia and yellow sandalwood.” Pippa walked over to Mr. Lewis, noticing his resemblance to his daughter. It was difficult to tell the gentleman’s age, as his rich ebony skin had no signs of aging, and his dark hair did not hold any evidence of graying.
Mr. Lewis gave her a hearty nod, a proud look on his smooth face that had her heart aching for her own father. He opened a drawer filled with bank notes and coins. Counting out Pippa’s share of the notes, he placed each one in her outstretched hand.
Pure joy wrapped around Pippa like a warm duvet on a cold evening as the bank notes piled in her hand, threatening to fallto the counter. Her face was in pain from the wide grin upon her face. She had done it. Old maid, bluestocking Pippa Price was doing something she loved and for no one at all but herself.
“You’re a fine partner, Miss Price. I hope our arrangement doesn’t have to change when you’re married. My customers would be extremely disappointed.” Mr. Lewis began setting the scents out for display.
Pippa shook her head. “I assure you nothing will change.” The thick words were heavy on her tongue, but she was determined to make them true.
Saving her family from her uncle’s debts had been a simple decision for her, but now, she couldn’t help but wonder if she deserved more in life. The previous night with St. Clara had given her a taste of what more would feel like, but it would never be that way with him.
