Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

P en bid a good morrow to the painters plying their trade in the main entrance of The Sinner's Palace II, the club she and her siblings were opening in the West End. Her voice did not even crack, which pleased her mightily. If any of the workers suspected she had spent the entire evening in tears, or that her heart had been ground beneath the Hessians of a diabolically handsome viscount the night before, they were too wise to comment upon it.

She breezed by them, feigning calm when inside, she was a storm-tossed sea. She had not slept. When she had finally given in to her restlessness at dawn and splashed water on her face to cool her swollen eyes and heated cheeks, she had determined that continuing on the ledgers would not do for distraction today. Fortunately, she had more work to keep her mind and hands busy here at the new club.

As the eldest sister who was not occupied with a husband, the task of decorating had fallen to Pen's discretion. She had been initially resentful over the additional responsibilities. Her sister Caroline was happily married to Gavin Winter, the famed prizefighter, and was only called upon for her healing talents. Lily was the youngest and thoroughly cossetted. Her brother Jasper's wife was occupied with seeing to her nieces' welfare, and none of her other brothers were yet wed, though she suspected her brother Rafe's diminished presence at The Sinner's Palace II heralded a coming change.

It all left Pen to see about such details as linens, paints, and wall hangings at the new club. And she was throwing herself into the duty awaiting her with enthusiasm and a desperate need to forget all about Lord Lindsey.

And forget him, she would.

If it was the last thing she did.

Casting an eye about to make certain the paint colors looked well enough in the main hall, she was soon interrupted.

"Miss Sutton?"

Pen turned to find one of the guards from The Sinner's Palace who was on duty directing the tradesmen this morning approaching her.

"Bennet," she greeted, pleased for further distraction, even if she did not feel at all like smiling when she forced her mouth into some semblance of the gesture. "I have missed seeing you at The Sinner's Palace these last few days."

He grunted. "I was there yesterday, miss."

Oh dear.

"Forgive me," she said, and then could have winced for the manner in which she seemed to unintentionally be parroting the viscount's words the night before. "I do recall seeing you there, now that you mention it."

In truth, she did not, but she felt it imperative to treat everyone in her family's employ at The Sinner's Palace as if they were an extension of the Suttons. With respect and appreciation and a good dose of cheer.

To his credit, Bennet nodded. Like many of the men working for The Sinner's Palace, he had been plucked from the streets and a life of crime. "The linen draper's come early, Miss Sutton."

The linen draper. More distraction. Wonderful.

"Bring him to me, Bennet."

With a nod, the man disappeared, leaving Pen to continue on with her examination of the progress at the new club. She moved through halls and rooms in various state of repair and change, until she reached the largest chamber, which would become the main gaming room of their establishment. It was the most complete chamber in the building, smelling of fresh paint, with gaming tables already adorning the new carpets.

She should have been pleased by the sight. Pleased at the prospect of future success for the Sutton family within these walls. And yet, as she glanced around her surroundings, all she felt was…numb.

Before she could wallow in her thoughts for too long, Bennet reappeared, the linen draper in tow.

Mr. Waters was red-cheeked, rotund, and possessed the smug air of masculine superiority she despised. He looked over her shoulder, then about the room after Bennet announced him, as if he were searching for someone else.

"And where is Mr. Sutton this morning?" he asked.

His query nettled her. She was more than accustomed to being undervalued because of her sex.

She forced a smile. "I am Miss Sutton, Mr. Sutton's sister, and one of the owners of this establishment."

Mr. Waters frowned. "I was given to understand I would be meeting with your brother, madam."

She had requested the meeting herself the previous week, and long before she had known how desperately she would need to distract herself today, in an effort to show him where the gaming tables would be placed. But she had no doubt he had simply misread the missive.

"You are meeting with me," she gritted. "Thank you, Bennet. I will call for you if you are needed." She waited for the guard to leave before turning her attention back to Mr. Waters. "If you please, have you brought any samples with you?"

The case he carried on his back suggested he had.

With a look of distaste, he unfastened it, extracting a plain table linen which seemed of reasonable quality, extending it to her for inspection.

It hardly appeared worthy of the dear price he was charging. And worst of all, it was plain. She turned the linen over in her hands to be certain before glancing back up at the merchant. "I requested embroidery on each table cloth, but there is none on this one."

"I am afraid I cannot provide the embroidery within the time your brother has specified, Miss Sutton," Mr. Waters said dispassionately, stoking her ire.

Was that not just like a man to promise far more than he could provide? To charm and deceive without a hint of compunction? She looked into the merchant's eyes and knew he had never intended to provide the embroidery she had asked for—the silhouette of a palace in blue stitch—at all. And nor did he give a damn that he would not be providing it.

Perhaps it was the scorched ash in her heart. Or perhaps it was a life spent lived in the shadows of her brothers, always being overlooked and ignored by men such as Mr. Waters because she was a woman. Or mayhap it was both.

Whatever the reason, Pen was furious.

So outraged, her hand shook as she presented Mr. Waters with his inferior cloth. "This is wholly unacceptable, sir. We are paying for embroidery."

"Embroidery was never promised," he said.

"It was promised," she countered.

"Not by myself," he blustered.

She clenched her jaw. "The embroidery aside, how many cloths do you have at the ready?"

"Twenty, as promised," he said, further proving his incompetence.

"We require two-and-thirty, sir, as you well know."

She suppressed the urge to scream to the rafters. In the next moment, her older brother Rafe had arrived, his blond curls framing his face and giving him an angelic air that was decidedly the opposite of the devoted rogue he was.

"Pen?" he asked, seemingly surprised to find her within, at odds with the linen draper.

"Rafe, come here if you please," she invited, relieved for some aid, "and explain to Mr. Waters why we cannot have inferior table cloths at our establishment. I have brought him here to show him the precise locations of the tables, and he now insists he cannot have the embroidery we require within the next month."

"Mr. Sutton," said Mr. Waters, suddenly obsequious. "Perhaps you can provide the voice of reason, sir. Miss Sutton's demands are, regretfully, nigh impossible to achieve."

Rake looked from Pen to Mr. Waters. "What's the problem?"

"I want all the table cloths to be embroidered with a palace," she explained.

"A palace embroidered on each cloth?" Rafe repeated, passing his hand along his jaw as if contemplating how dear a price such a table linen would fetch.

"Only think how it will set us apart from our competitors," Pen pointed out, knowing her brother far too well.

"I have all the linens you originally purchased at the ready," Mr. Waters declared. "But as for the embroidery, I must ask for an increase of price and far more time. I won't be capable of producing the number requested with the embroidery before you open your establishment, and Miss Sutton refuses to accept this."

An increase in price? Why, the man put highwaymen and pickpockets to shame. His original price had contained the embroidery! She was sure she had a note back at The Sinner's Palace to prove it.

"I won't accept it because your excuse simply isn't good enough, Mr. Waters," she told the man firmly. "If you refuse to give us what we need, then we will take our business to someone who will."

"You ought to consider yourself fortunate to have Waters and Sons linen gracing your tables," the draper said coldly, directing his words to Rafe, quite as if Pen were not even present in the room.

Oh, to punch the man in his bulbous nose. He would deserve it. And worse. And whilst she was about the task, why not plant Lord Lindsey a facer as well? No man in all London was owed one more!

"We will accept the linens you've already agreed to provide, Mr. Waters," her brother said smoothly.

How dare he?

"We most certainly will not!" Pen snapped, outraged. "Mr. Waters, you can take your pompous airs and your plain tablecloths and stuff them up your?—"

"That is enough, Penelope!" Rafe barked, interrupting. "Please excuse my sister, sir. Our order remains the same."

Flashing his scoundrel's grin, Rafe hastened to escort Mr. Waters from the room as Pen watched on, feeling ineffectual. Ignored. Utterly worthless in every way.

She had come here to The Sinner's Palace II to find distraction and validation, and instead, she had found more of the same. More humiliation. More of a man who believed himself her superior looking down his nose at her.

She sniffled, and whether it was the lack of sleep, her broken heart, her frustration with Mr. Waters, or all three, she could not say. But once the tears she had been tamping down ever since she had dried the last bout emerged, she could not stay them. They were running down her cheeks by the time her brother returned.

"What is amiss, Pen?" he asked, arriving at her side.

Her inner turmoil was not entirely her brother's fault, but he was going to pay for the most recent contribution to it, that was certain.

"How dare you undermine me?" she asked, swiping at her cheeks. "He had the number of tablecloths wrong, and I fail to understand why he cannot provide the embroidery. He asked me where Mr. Sutton was when he arrived."

A fresh wave of tears punctuated her words, and she did nothing to hide them.

Rafe extracted a handkerchief, offering it to her. "You need to calm yourself, Pen. The tables will be filled regardless of whether or not there is a bit of thread stitched in a palace on them."

She snatched the scrap of linen from him and dabbed at her cheeks. "Men are nothing but a great bloody lot of arrogant loggerheads!"

"Is this about Lord Aidan Weir, Pen?" he asked.

Lord Aidan? Ha! If only…

"Of course not." She sniffled. "It's his brother the haughty arse who…" She caught herself and stayed the rampant flow of words.

No need to tell her protective older brother what had happened. Or anyone else. Ever.

Too late.

Rafe's brows rose. "His brother? Which one?"

She shook her head. "It hardly matters now. I'll not be seeing Lord Lindsey again."

Her brother scowled. "That is for the best, sister."

"Of course it is," she agreed, forcing a smile to her lips, because it was for the best, regardless of how much her heart was aching right now. "But never mind his high and mighty lordship. We have a gaming hell to open."

"Indeed we do, and we'd both do well to keep our minds on The Sinner's Palace II where they belong," Rafe said, patting her on the back.

Yes, she would be better served to only think about their new establishment and not at all about the man who had made love to her the night before, only to call it a mistake and tell her he intended to marry someone else.

She inhaled slowly, willing all the pain and hurt away. "Lead the way, brother."

In his mother's favorite sitting room at Dryden House, Garrick took a sip of perfectly prepared tea and wondered how he ought to inform his mother and father that he was about to create the scandal of the century. Father's color was good today; he was not pale as he had been on Garrick's previous visit, when Aidan had announced his plans to marry Miss Penelope Sutton. Garrick's own announcement, not long after, was bound to cause some upset.

He had to proceed with caution.

"The news from Dr. Wilton is good?" he asked Father casually.

It was the polite way of inquiring whether or not he might render his sire apoplectic when he revealed the purpose of his call.

"It is cautious, but promising," his father said.

"His Grace has not had to use the Bath chair for several days now," Mother added, sending a small smile in her husband's direction as she idly stroked an orange cat which had settled in her lap.

"That is excellent to hear," Garrick said, wishing he were partaking of something stronger than tea, although he scarcely ever imbibed.

Part of him felt lighter than he ever had, filled with the brightness of a thousand suns. But part of him felt heavy, his gut tangled in knots. Knots for the way he had left Pen the night before. Knots for her fury with him. Knots for the unburdening he needed to do today. He had already made one call, to Lady Hester, which had been easier than he had supposed.

As it turned out, Lady Hester had set her cap at the Earl of Carlington, and she was hoping for an understanding to be reached any day. She and Garrick had parted as friends. He was not certain he would be so blessed by a similarly pleasant outcome on this occasion.

Mother had set her heart upon Lady Hester as his bride.

But he was not in love with Lady Hester. And leaving her earlier had not made his heart feel as if it were shattering into irreparable shards in his chest as it had when he had left Pen the night before.

"My lord?" Mother was prompting him, cutting through his thoughts.

A lack of sleep and the weight of what he must do had rendered his mind sluggish. He blinked, attempting to chase away his distraction. "Yes, Mother?"

"You were wool-gathering," she observed tartly, giving the feline a scratch between the ears. "I asked if you had heard Aidan's news."

"Aidan's news?" He frowned, wondering what manner of madcap nonsense his brother had managed to entangle himself in now, and so soon after he had just been rescued from the devious Mrs. Knightly.

"We are to wish him happy," Father said in a tone of resignation. "He has decided he will wed the unsuitable Miss Sutton after all."

The lack of fury in his father's tone and the absence of outraged color flooding to his cheeks would have pleased Garrick, for it hardly seemed as if his father would suffer another of his fits on account of Aidan's antics. However, the words he heard were wrong. It took a moment for them to permeate Garrick's sleep-deprived brain.

He returned his teacup to its saucer with more force than necessary and straightened in his chair. "Forgive me, but I fear I misheard you, Father."

"You did not mishear," Mother said, voice dripping with distaste. "Your brother wishes to marry Miss Mutton."

"Sutton," he corrected absently.

"Mutton, Sutton, Button." His mother made a dismissive gesture. "The name hardly signifies. The ensuing scandal, however, does. You may as well prepare yourself, my lord. And warn Lady Hester, as well. We have tried to dissuade him, but he seems unwilling to stray from his course for a second time. I had so hoped he was finally willing to see reason when he told us the betrothal had been broken."

Damn it, Aidan still wanted to marry Pen despite their conversation at Rivendale's. He had hoped his brother would reconsider.

A possessive surge went through him then. Pen was his , damn it.

"Impossible," he bit out. "It will never happen."

"At least one of our sons sees reason," Mother quipped.

"Aidan cannot marry Miss Sutton," he elaborated, "because I am."

At least, he hoped he was. He had yet to ask her. After suffering through a sleepless night, he had made an early-morning visit to Winter's Boxing Academy. Garrick had returned home with aching knuckles and the certain knowledge that Pen Sutton owned his heart, and that he could not bear to live without her.

" You are?" Mother's voice was high and shrill, steeped in disbelief.

"Yes." And how freeing that one word, that revelation, was.

He had spent the years since Veronica's betrayal attempting to be the son his parents wanted, the lord society expected him to be. A stickler for propriety. The perfect gentleman. He had done everything right. But on the inside… On the inside, he had been hollow. He had been joyless and frigid.

Pen had filled him with warmth and happiness. She had taught him that loving again was worth the risk, any risk. Society and its expectations could go to the devil for all he cared. He was not going to marry Lady Hester Torshell. He was going to marry the woman he loved.

Yes, loved .

He loved Pen Sutton.

Had loved her, quite possibly, from the moment she had stormed into her office at The Sinner's Palace and demanded to know who he was.

"I do not understand," his mother was saying, distraught. "What hold does this horrid creature have over the both of you?"

"Miss Sutton is neither horrid nor a creature," he corrected her coolly. "She is an intelligent woman who is deserving of your respect, not your disdain."

His mother was sputtering, disturbing the cat on her lap. "But she is common. Worse than common. How could you wish to bind yourself to an East End vagabond?"

"Need I remind you of your origins?" his father asked sternly. "You were a merchant's daughter when we married."

His mother gasped as if she had been struck.

Garrick glanced from his father to his mother, shocked himself. He had always believed his mother had been the daughter of a country baron. At least, that was the tale she told. He had never known his grandparents, both having died before he was born.

"You are the daughter of a Cit?" he asked her now.

"Do not speak to me of it." She pressed a hand to her brow. "I am feeling faint. Fetch me my hartshorn."

What an interesting development this was. His mother had been keeping a secret, it would seem. A very large, potentially useful one.

Garrick found himself grinning. "Given your experience, Mother, I have no doubt you will prove helpful in aiding my wife to find her footing in polite society."

She issued a heavy sigh. "I expected better of you, my lord. What of Lady Hester?"

"Lady Hester wishes to marry Carlington," he said, still smiling. "Which is fortunate indeed, for I have every intention of wedding Miss Sutton if she will have me."

If his mother had weathered the storm of her own murky past to become one of the leading arbiters of Society, why could not Pen also manage the same? It was true that her family was…unique. But Garrick did not give a damn. He was going to live life as he pleased, unfettered by society's dictates. He was going to love, and damn the consequences.

"There is one problem," Father said. "You and Aidan cannot both marry the same woman."

Yes, there was that. He needed to find Pen and his brother with all haste to sort this muddle out. But first, he needed to know something. He was going to marry Pen regardless of the answer to his next question as long as she would forgive him for the manner in which he had bungled matters the night before. But knowing how much of a challenge they faced from his parents would be a boon.

He searched his father's countenance. "Do I have your blessing?"

"All I want is to see my sons happy," Father said quietly, his customary sternness fading.

Garrick swallowed against a rush of emotion and nodded. "Thank you, Father."

He was on his feet and striding for the door in the next moment, his mother's voice trailing after him.

"Your sons shall be the death of me, I fear, Your Grace."

"They are your sons also," Father was reminding.

"Only when they please me," she grumbled.