Mistletoe and Magic (Novella): A Loveswept Historical Romance (11 page)

Her eyes had flown open when he mentioned William Sweeney. The man nodded, continuing in the same tone. “If I can discover all this, a reporter can easily do the same. I know you don’t care about such things for yourself, but do you really want to be the cause of Jared’s ruination? Do you think you could ever find happiness that way?”

“Mr. Marton, it isn’t that simple.” Penelope lifted her face to his. “Jared and I are in love.”

“Romantic nonsense!” He waved a hand as if he could dispel her words. “I know that is all the fad today! Valentines and poetry. Every young woman is devouring those
novels from the Brontë sisters, and poems by Wordsworth, Byron, and Keats! But you cannot sustain a marriage on that—trust me, Miss Appleton. Everything might well be wine and roses today, but what happens years from now when your husband finds himself penniless, unable to work, shut out of society and his family, all because of you? That love will change to hatred, my dear. Mark my words.”

Penelope shuddered as she thought of Jared despising her. Could it one day happen if he realized he’d sacrificed a promising career, wealth, success, and power because he’d married her?

Lifting her chin, Theodore peered into her eyes. “For all your notoriety, you seem genuinely fond of my son. I implore you to let him go. For everyone’s sake.”

Tears sprung into her eyes and she nodded, seeing the sense in his words. Satisfied, he turned to leave and then paused at the door. “I will make your decision worth your while financially, for I know you girls were left orphaned and penniless. You did the right thing, my dear. And long term, my son will be happier for it.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Marton. That isn’t why I promised.”

“I know that. Indeed, my intention when I came here was to buy you off. But in speaking to you, I realized you were not that kind of person. I am impressed that you made the unselfish choice, which is not something I was prepared for.”

He put on his hat and went out into the snow.

“Penelope! Mr. Jared has arrived to take you to the theater! I daresay,
A Christmas Carol
is such a wonderful tale …” Eve’s voice trailed off as she saw her niece dressed in a house robe, a blanket wrapped around her. “Dear? Are you ill?”

“No,” Penelope said softly and turned to her aunt. “Please tell Jared I will not see him. And can you give him this?” Penelope handed her aunt a letter.

Eve nodded, her face wrinkling in concern. “Did something happen?”

“I can’t talk about it.” Penelope blinked back tears but put on a brave face for her aunt. “I’ve decided to go to the Howes’ party tonight instead. I daresay, Winifred will be pleased to see me. Bertha is pressing my outfit as we speak.”

“I see.” Eve walked slowly from the room and down to the parlor, her heart heavy.

“Mr. Marton.” When he turned to her, his face warm with excitement, Eve handed him the missive. “Miss Penelope has changed her mind. She asked me to give you this letter.”

“What?” Jared looked up at the stairs in confusion.

“I am sorry, but Miss … my niece has indicated she doesn’t wish to see you.”

“What is this?” Jared demanded. “What happened?” He started for the steps but Eve stopped him, putting a surprisingly strong hand on his arm.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that inadvertently, you have something to do with it.” Her sharp blue eyes met his. “Have you discussed your courtship with your parents and obtained their approval?” When Jared stared at her, understanding beginning to dawn, she nodded. “I hear she had a visitor last evening. I believe it was your father.”

Jared groaned and held his head as if it ached. “He came here?”

“Yes. I had gone to bed, so I wasn’t privy to the discussion. But it does seem rather cause-and-effect.”

Jared started for the door in frustration and anger. “This isn’t the end of this, I promise you.”

Seeing the expression on Eve’s face, he tempered his tone. “Don’t worry. I will go to my father and straighten this out, once and for all. He had no right to come here and interfere. I should have known he’d do something like this.”

Eve’s eyes met his and she gave him a wan smile. “I wish you well in your endeavor. Merry Christmas, Jared.”

“Merry Christmas, dear.” Jared kissed her cheek and put the letter inside his jacket before heading out into the snow.

Penelope was miserable at her sister’s party, though she tried gallantly to smile and flirt with her fan.

“Miss Penelope, you look ravishing tonight!” Jonathan Wisely twirled his
moustache, eyeing her as if she were his own vision of sugarplums. “Will you dance?” He extended his arm as the music began for the Virginia reel.

“Certainly.” Penelope joined him, though her heart wasn’t in it.

They whirled about the ballroom floor beneath the boughs of holly and evergreens. Winifred had outdone herself with the decorations, and the elegant brownstone was illuminated with dozens of candles, gaslights, and roaring fires. Garlands roped around the banisters, and gay Christmas bouquets graced the table that was groaning with food and drink.

They stopped when the music ended, and Penelope fought to catch her breath. “I am glad you are here tonight,” Jonathan said as he led her to a seat. “I was afraid we’d lost your society.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Penelope flicked her fan expertly.

“It was rumored that Jared Marton was courting you. But I am pleased to know it isn’t true. In fact,” he gave her a secretive smile, “I have it on good notice he is having tea with Susan Parks. Her mother had set her hopes on Jared years ago. She is exactly right for him!”

“That’s nice,” Penelope said, hiding behind her fan as her heart was breaking.

Jonathan’s brow lifted. “Then your association was a casual one?”

“Very,” Penelope said assuredly. “We were … are … friends.”

She choked on the word as he twirled her across the floor once more, remembering a time when that was all she wanted. Breathless, she sat out the next dance, leaving a wealth of disappointed swains on the floor as she fanned herself furiously.

She had done the right thing, hadn’t she? Penelope closed her eyes, leaning as far back in her chair as her bustle permitted. What Jared’s father had said made sense to her. She would ruin him. He could never have the kind of life his father described if he wed her.

And if her vision was correct, it would little matter. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the accuracy of the future she saw for Eve. Although the wedding was a few months away, her aunt’s dress had been delivered and it was exactly as she’d envisioned, down to the little pearl buttons on the sleeves.

Yet even if she was wrong and Jared survived, he was well shed of her. He would
probably marry someone like Susan Parks and live the life of an important political figure. He would have wealth, power, and respect, just like his father. She had no doubt that Theodore Marton would do as he threatened and cut off his son if Jared did not do his bidding.

So either path led her away from him. She should be happy to have spared herself pain, and him a lifetime of misery. Yet as another man approached her with a glass of Champagne, she felt as if she would lose her supper.

It was three days before Christmas. Her aunt bustled around the kitchen as Bertha baked cookies in preparation for the upcoming holiday. The house smelled like cinnamon, chocolate, and vanilla, but try as she might, Bertha couldn’t tempt Penelope to taste the batter or a warm gingerbread man as he came from the oven.

The post arrived and Penelope offered to get the mail, leaving Bertha to finish the baking. As she accepted the letters from the post boy, she thumbed through them, seeing the invitations, Christmas cards, and notes wishing them well. When she got to the last letter, she frowned, since there was no return address. It was simply a creamy white envelope addressed to Miss P. Appleton in glossy black ink.

“Dear, what is it?” Eve joined her, brushing flour from her hands.

“I don’t know.” Penelope picked up the silver letter opener and slid it beneath the red wax seal.

Inside was a check for ten thousand dollars. Eve gasped, putting her hand on her heart when she saw the signature:

Theodore Marton.

“My word! Why would the man send you something like this?” Her aunt touched the paper in awe, as if thinking it might disappear.

Penelope took the check and tore it into a hundred pieces. “Guilt money, I would think.” Her voice was rich with meaning.

Eve stared at her niece in wonder, but Penelope turned away from the mantel and gestured toward the kitchen. “Let’s help Bertha finish before she’s buried in cookies.”

“Jared, would you pass Miss Parks the tea, please?”

Jared glanced up, startled out of his thoughts. “Yes, of course.” He poured a paper-thin cup of hot tea and gave it to the young woman sitting beside him.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Susan said gaily, picking up the cup with her little finger properly extended. “Everything looks simply delicious! I very much admire your marzipan. You must give us the recipe for our cook.”

“You are very welcome.” Agnes Marton exchanged a glance with Catherine Parks. “And how are you finding Vassar, my dear?” Agnes directed the question toward Susan. “I know some folk don’t believe in educating women, but a knowledge of literature, music, and the ability to speak well on the topics of the day would certainly be an asset to any husband.” She looked pointedly at Jared.

Susan blushed. “I do hope my meager accomplishments will prove advantageous. I believe a pious and intelligent homemaker would provide a stable and compelling influence in the family. That is a woman’s arena, is it not?”

“Quite so.” Agnes turned to Jared and lifted an eyebrow, obviously expecting a comment.

“Yes, right.” He glanced up, having no idea what they were talking about.

“I am glad to hear you say so,” Jacob Parks said, finishing up a sandwich. “Too many young men are supportive of this suffragette movement. Didn’t Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony put on a ridiculous show last year, marching through town with those terrible Appleton women? I recall it had to do with a court case …”

“I think it’s time we gentlemen retired and left the ladies to their talk.” Theodore rose, indicating the library. He was well aware that Jared, who’d been noticeably absent throughout the conversation, had perked up when the Appletons were mentioned. “I have a new brandy I’d like to get your opinion on.”

The gentlemen rose and followed Theodore to the library.

“So, my boy, I understand you are becoming quite the prosecutor.” Jacob clapped
his hand on Jared’s shoulder. “That must be a satisfying feeling, putting away these criminals. Didn’t you help break up that Kelly gang in Hell’s Kitchen a few years back?”

“Yes,” Jared replied. “Although I admit, I wish they’d gotten more time. The worst of the gang, Black Jack Kelly, got released a few days ago.”

“I remember that case,” his father commented. “Bank robbery, if I’m not mistaken? He killed the teller and made off with the money.”

“Correct.” Jared nodded and took a seat. “The witness couldn’t identify him. Because of that and the fact that the police never found the gun, he was only sentenced to five years.”