Partridge and the Peartree Read online

  Partridge and the Peartree

  by Patricia Kiyono

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 PATRICIA KIYONO

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  PARTRIDGE AND THE PEARTREE

  Copyright © 2012 PATRICIA KIYONO

  ISBN 978-1-62135-093-4

  Cover Art Designed by Elaina Lee

  To my marvelous critique partner Marti, who literally pulled this manuscript out of the trash and helped me fill in the holes. Thanks for your faith in me, and for your willingness to use your eagle eyes to turn a hodgepodge of ideas into a story.

  Chapter One

  Phillip Peartree, Tenth Duke of Bartlett, squinted as he scanned the titles on the dusty shelves of his favorite bookstore. He needed something new to read, something to help him relax and forget the depression weighing him down ever since he'd inherited his burdensome title. Phillip had been aware of his father's extravagant tastes, but he'd had no idea about the extent of debt they'd caused. Debt that had become his worry and responsibility. In the two years since his father's passing, the young duke had managed to satisfy most of his creditors by selling off part of his estate and working hard to improve what was left. Needing a respite, he'd decided to spend the holiday season in London, near his sister and nieces.

  London offered plenty of activities for an eligible bachelor, but the social whirlwind was something Phillip avoided. Not that he wanted to be alone. He'd always dreamed of having a contented, if not happy, life with a suitable mate. Ideally, he'd prefer to wed someone with charm, looks, and intelligence. His hand went to his face, tracing the scars left from the hunting accident that had changed his life several years before. He sighed. How could he hope to win the hand of such a woman once she compared him to the good-looking members of the ton? There was no shortage of handsome single men who knew exactly how to converse with a woman, how to charm them, and how to woo them.

  So he lived vicariously through the characters in his books. They were his friends. Although he'd already read nearly every title on the shelves, he'd come to this quiet little shop, on the edge of town, hoping find something new. There had to be something...

  "Oooof!"

  The missile hitting his abdomen doubled him over, knocking the breath from his lungs. When he'd recovered enough to straighten, his eyes focused on the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Had the punch to his stomach addled his brain, or did a halo surround this woman's face? The lively young thing waved her arms as she talked, and judging from the way her mouth moved, she spoke as quickly as she moved. Shiny golden curls tumbled from her bonnet, and her deep brown eyes radiated with intelligence and purpose. Fascinated by the way her luscious lips formed her words, he forgot to pay attention to what she was saying.

  The lips stopped moving, and her eyes widened. She must be waiting for him to reply, but he had no idea what she'd just said.

  "Er — pardon me, miss. I didn't see you. I sincerely hope you're not injured." Spying a handful of books scattered near her feet, he quickly bent and retrieved them for her. "Here you are."

  Her lovely brown eyes narrowed. Had he said something stupid? Sometimes he did, especially when he hadn't followed a conversation closely. Since he'd lost most of his hearing in the accident that had disfigured his face, he'd learned to read lips quite well, but occasionally he'd get it wrong, much to the amusement of his cousins, who would tease him mercilessly.

  "I'm fine, good sir," she said, taking the books he offered. "And I thank you for retrieving my books." She took them and whirled away without so much as a goodbye.

  Phillip stood transfixed, staring after her.

  Slowly, common sense returned, and he sighed regretfully. Such a lovely woman would never consider a friendship, much less a courtship, with someone like him.

  Remembering his reason for entering the bookstore, Phillip continued to peruse the titles. At the back of the store, he found the section from which the lady had emerged. Here he found an assortment of slender books like those she had dropped. They were children's stories. Of course. She was married and probably had been there to purchase books for her children. He'd best forget about dreaming of a life with her.

  Chagrined, he moved on to the next section. His eye caught a familiar name from his youth. An elegantly bound volume held a collection of poetry by Robert Burns. He remembered his grandmother, when she still lived, sitting on a bench in the estate gardens, reading her own well-worn book of Burns' poetry. Later, when she fell ill, Grandfather would go to her chambers and read to her, his gentle voice caressing the words as if singing a love song. Grandmother would lie back with her eyes closed, an ethereal smile lighting her face. It was his favorite memory of his grandparents and the love they shared.

  Warmed by the memory, he picked up the volume, took it to the shop clerk, and purchased it.

  ****

  Robert Townley, the duke's valet, stayed close to his master, but not so close as to intrude. The duke managed to get around quite well on his own, reading lips and using his other senses, but he couldn't hear warning shouts or the rushing carriages traveling the busy London streets. Though Robert hadn't been instructed to do so, he'd made it his mission to protect Phillip whenever the young duke went out.

  Robert's father and grandfather had both served the duke's family. Robert himself had grown up on the estate, spending his youth with the young heir. He'd been allowed to sit in on Phillip's lessons, never letting on that he was learning as much as Phillip. When Phillip had left for Eton, Robert had continued his own education by reading the duke's discarded newspapers and everything else he could get his hands on.

  When Phillip's gun had misfired, leaving him scarred and deaf, he'd come home to convalesce, and Robert had been one of the few people he'd allowed in his rooms. The two men had forged a bond more akin to friendship than the usual relationship between servant and master. Now, he noted Phillip's dazed expression.

  What happened in that bookstore?

  He reached out a hand and lightly touched the duke's sleeve to get his attention. "Your Grace?"

  Phillip blinked several times, seeming to bring himself into the present. "Yes, Townley?"

  "Is everything all right? Did something happen in there? You look rather… dazed."

  Phillip sighed. "I suppose I do. I just caught a glimpse of heaven."

  Chapter Two

  Lady Amelia Partridge paused outside the bookstore to put her new purchases into a leather satchel she'd borrowed from her brother. Edward hadn't known about the loan, of course. But he was off on one of his hunting trips with his friends. She supposed she looked silly, carrying it about; however, the books wouldn't fit in her reticule, and she didn't want all of London to know about her reading selections. The books were for some special children in her life, but she didn't want to explain to her friends if they should happen to see her.

  She handed the satchel to Giles, her young footman, and led the way back to the high street, where she had arranged to meet her coach near the park. From there, she rode in comfort back to her brother's home.

  It had been her home, too, for the past twenty-three years. But now she was going to have
to find another place to live. Despite the forty-odd rooms in Sudbury House, there was not enough space for two women. At least, not when one of the women was her brother's fiancée, Colette.

  Amelia's Edward, Earl of Sudbury, had suggested she marry. But she absolutely couldn't bind herself to some fop who thought of no one but himself, or worse, one who dictated her every move. She led her own life and didn't want someone else telling her what to do, the way her father had run her mother's life. The poor woman hadn't had a moment to herself until the day she died. It was a lesson well learned.

  Edward would give her an allowance, of course, and he'd offered to let her have the cottage in Oxfordshire. But she would need more than what he'd be able to give her, especially if Collette had anything to say about it. Besides, the cottage was far away from her friends. Recently, she'd had some success writing books, keeping her identity hidden by using a pen name. If she lived frugally, perhaps she'd be able to support herself, especially if Edward would help her purchase a small home in London.

  Her impending move had been in her thoughts when she had run into the man in the bookshop. He'd looked familiar, but since she avoided most social events, she had no idea who he was. The gentleman's face had been kind, full of character and compassion. The scars on his left cheek did nothing to detract from his looks, and his deep blue eyes had shone with intelligence. He'd been standing in the philosophy section, perusing the titles on a high shelf when she'd bumped into him. She'd been mortified and had sputtered an apology, but he hadn't responded to that. Instead, he'd simply picked up her books and handed them back to her. Perhaps he hadn't wanted anyone to know he was there, either.

  Arriving at the townhouse, she instructed Giles to take the satchel to her sitting room. She would have two or three hours to herself before dinner, and then she would have to get dressed to go out again. Tonight was the Linden daughters' recital, and though she preferred to stay at home, she felt obligated to attend. Desiree, the girls' mother, had become a good friend through the Ladies' Literary Society, and both Laurel and Merilee had become dear to her.

  Perhaps, if she could shut out enough of the music, she could plot out her next novel in her head. She had a good memory and could write down the details when she got home.

  ****

  Jeanne Brown inspected her mistress's cloak with distaste. Why did Lady Amelia insist on trudging through the back streets of the city, where the walks were strewn with debris? It would take her the better part of a day to clean the hems of this garment. Thankfully, she had Lady Amelia's clothing for this evening ready, including a new, clean cloak.

  She wondered about the books her mistress had purchased earlier. She'd seemed flushed when she'd returned from her excursion, but it hadn't been from exertion. Her brother's satchel had been stuffed, probably with new books, but the pink in her cheeks seemed more from a heightened emotion. Had the lady met with an unsavory character? Or were the books themselves of a scandalous nature?

  Rising, Jeanne took the garment to the kitchen to search for the lye soap. Perhaps she could get most of this dirt out before dinner. When she'd last looked in on her mistress, the lady was seated at her writing desk. Lady Amelia was always writing, and sometimes when Jeanne went to fetch her for dinner she had to speak several times to gain her attention.

  Lady Amelia didn't socialize much, preferring her own company to the social events of the holiday season. But her best friend had entreated her to attend her daughters' piano and dance recital, and she had agreed. She would wear the lovely gown Jeanne had carefully pressed, don the soft matching slippers, and have her hair arranged. Jeanne enjoyed creating elaborate coiffures and bemoaned the fact that her employer did not make use of her talent. If given the opportunity, she would ensure Lady Amelia's golden tresses were the talk of the ton.

  Perhaps tonight Jeanne's creation would catch the attention of a dashing gentleman who would sweep Lady Amelia off her feet. Then the two of them could move to that gentleman's estate, and they could be rid of this place. Lord Sudbury was all right, but his future bride was a dragon who'd done nothing but undermine Amelia, changing the décor, contradicting her orders to the staff, and even lying to the earl to make Lady Amelia look bad. Her mistress would be better off leaving Sudbury House.

  Entering the kitchen, she inhaled the savory smells of the delicious meal Cook prepared, and her stomach rumbled.

  "Good afternoon, Cook."

  "Good afternoon, Jeanne. What brings you — Oh," Cook exclaimed, spying the soiled cloak Jeanne carried. "I see Her Ladyship has been traipsing through muddy sections of town again."

  "Yes. She came back with another satchel full of books."

  Cook shook her head. "Such a waste, a lovely young lass like her, shut up in her room, reading and writing all day. At her age, she should be married, with a nursery full of children."

  "I agree. But at least tonight she's going to the Linden children's recital."

  "Lovely. Well, do your magic and make her look beautiful."

  Jeanne sighed. Magic wasn't needed to make Lady Amelia beautiful. What she needed was the lady's cooperation.

  Chapter Three

  What the devil am I doing here?

  Philip adored his nieces, but he preferred to support them in ways that didn't require his presence at a social function. Laurel was a beautiful girl and a fair dancer, though she'd never perform on a true stage. He wasn't as sure about Merilee's piano playing, although people other than her own mother had said she was quite good. No matter, he was here now, so his sister wouldn't be able to badger him too much for the next month or so. Desiree was a good sister, but she could be a mother bear sometimes, especially when it came to her children. As if conjured by his thoughts, Desiree Linden, Countess of Milburn, appeared at his side.

  "Phillip, how good of you to come." She took his arm and steered him toward the chairs set up for the audience.

  "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

  "Of course you would." She chuckled at his sarcasm. "But I'm glad you chose to come, instead of closeting yourself in your study. I'm giving you the choicest seat, right here in the front."

  "Marvelous. Everyone will be able to see me."

  "Don't be silly. They're here to see the girls, not you. Besides, you'll be off to the left, so your good side will be all they see. You might be lucky and not have to interact with anyone."

  "How kind of you," he said through his teeth.

  He settled himself in his seat, turning sharply when someone behind him tapped his shoulder. The Duchess of Camden bent her head to speak to him, and the feathers on her oversized hat tickled his forehead. "Your Grace, it is so good to see you again. I've heard you were at your estate, and we assumed you were still in mourning—"

  Desiree rang a crystal bell at that moment, interrupting the duchess, and all heads turned toward the stage, where Merilee had seated herself at the pianoforte.

  "Friends, thank you so much for attending. Please make yourselves comfortable. Merilee and Laurel have a lovely program for you this evening. Merilee will open the program by performing Sonata in G minor by Muzio Clementi."

  Phillip prepared himself for an hour or two of boredom, schooling his features into a polite show of interest. Just as Merilee raised her hands to place them on the keyboard, he felt the air stir to his right, and the aroma of roses assaulted him. He glanced in that direction and beheld a vision of loveliness seated beside him. She wore a fetching gown of midnight blue satin, and her honey blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face. She nodded a silent greeting to him then directed her attention toward the stage. Phillip dutifully turned his head as well, but his thoughts remained on the woman beside him. It was the woman from the bookstore. Where was her husband?

  ****

  Amelia kept her eyes focused on the performer, though she barely heard a note from the pianoforte. She kept her mouth closed, breathing deeply as her heart calmed to a steady beat. Her brother's insufferable fiancée had, as usual, not been re
ady to leave at the appointed time, so she'd taken a footman and hired a hackney, arriving at the last moment. She'd tossed her cloak at the surprised butler and scooted to an open seat at the front, sitting down just before Merilee began to play.

  The man beside her was a distraction. She'd only caught a glimpse of him before the music started, but she was certain it was the same gentleman from the bookshop. She felt her face heat. Why on earth would she have such a reaction to a man?

  The music stopped, and the people around her applauded politely. Amelia, embarrassed to be daydreaming, lifted her hands to do the same. But she realized the gentleman beside her was later than her to clap his hands. Perhaps he also had wayward thoughts.

  Merilee rose from the bench and executed a prim curtsey then reseated herself at the bench. This time, she played a gentle introduction then played a lovely piece for her sister's dance.

  Though she kept her eyes forward, she knew the ballet was more to the gentleman's liking. He sat up straighter, and his facial features lifted from its boredom into pleasure. Was it the dance itself, or was it the dancer who caught the man's fancy? Laurel was almost seventeen now and would probably be ready to enter society in the next season. But if the man next to her had set his sights on her, she might be married before ever having a season of her own.

  A jab to her midsection had her massaging it. Had she eaten something unsettling this evening? She scarcely remembered what she had consumed. She'd been so distracted by her new story she had simply eaten what was placed before her. Surely that was it. Indigestion made much more sense than jealousy over a young girl garnering the attention of the handsome man next to her.