Mistletoe and Magic (Novella): A Loveswept Historical Romance (3 page)

“Miss Appleton? Do you need a doctor?”

The words finally penetrated as she returned to consciousness. Penelope’s thick black lashes fluttered open, and when they settled on Jared Marton, she nearly leaped out of his arms.

Panic filled her. He would die! The vision couldn’t have been clearer. Destiny had placed her at this ball where she would meet her future mate, only to know he would break her heart with grief!

“I’ve got to go,” Penelope said, pulling away from him. The room spun and she still felt woozy, but every cell of her body urged her to flee.

“I’ll call my carriage,” Jared said firmly.

“No!” she cried. “I have my own. I will be fine. Goodbye!”

“But Miss Appleton!” Jared tried to capture her wrist, but Penelope twisted away and disappeared in a twinkling like Cinderella running from the ball. A white cotton square fluttered to the floor and Jared retrieved it, examining the soft, supple fabric.

It was her handkerchief. Made of the finest linen and embroidered with an intricate lace stitching, the corner was adorned with her initials, PA: Penelope Appleton. As if she needed identification, he thought dryly, for any man who met Penelope wasn’t likely to ever forget her.

The scent of her perfume on the material intoxicated him. He put the handkerchief into his coat and then strode determinedly toward the foyer. But again, he was out of luck. Helplessly he watched as a carriage sped off into the night, and the servants indicated that, indeed, Miss Appleton had fled the ball.

Jared cursed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. For a moment he contemplated following her, but by the time he ordered his coach she would be safely ensconced at home. He was unaccustomed to worrying about a woman, but what had happened gnawed at him.

What in the world had caused her to faint? From what he’d heard, Penelope wasn’t the sort of girl given to the vapors. She hadn’t indicated that her stays were too tight, that she was upset, or that she needed some air after dancing.

He remembered the moment when she’d grown silent and her face had turned as pale as the white marble floor. What thoughts came to her that were so upsetting as to cause her to pass out? What secrets haunted the most beautiful of the notorious Appleton sisters?

Determination filled him. He wanted this woman, not only with all his heart, but his soul. He would not fail in his quest to win her, and he would protect her from now until eternity.

Whatever dragon haunted Penelope Appleton, he would slay it and put it to rest. Or die trying.

Jennifer and Winifred anxiously approached their friend as he returned from the dance floor. “Mr. Marton, what happened? Where is Penelope?” Winifred asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head in consternation. “We had just finished a waltz, and the next thing I knew, she seemed to lose consciousness.”

“What?” Jennifer gasped. “Penelope never faints! Why, she can dance all night!” She turned decisively to her sister. “I will go to her. Winnie, will you take Aunt Eve home? I’ll ask Gabriel to fetch our carriage.”

“Certainly,” Winifred agreed, and Jennifer made her way to her husband.

Jared turned to Winifred, lifting his hands helplessly. “I really wish I had an explanation. I had barely taken her hand when she swooned. She recovered rather quickly but refused to allow me to escort her home. Perhaps I should go to her.” He looked at Winifred in agitation. “Maybe she needs assistance, a doctor—”

“That’s very kind, but my sister and her husband will take good care of her. I’m sure Penelope will be fine. It was probably just too much excitement.” Winifred gave Jared a reassuring smile and hid the teasing sparkle in her eyes. “Although I must say, Mr. Marton, you sound very … invested.”

Jared looked startled, but then laughed, his handsome face chagrined. “Am I really that transparent? I must admit, Miss Appleton, I find your sister enchanting. I am a fool for saying this, but ‘smitten’ does not begin to cover what I am feeling. I am determined to win her, and I just want to assure you I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

Winifred’s brows rose, although she didn’t appear entirely surprised. “I know you will, Mr. Marton. And I will assist you in any manner that I can, provided it is in Penelope’s best interest. I must warn you, though, you will face fierce competition, for my little sister has been turning men’s heads since the day she was born.”

Jared smiled and rubbed his hands together confidently. “That doesn’t frighten me in the least. As a fellow attorney you must credit me; I know how to make a case. And this is one I intend to win.”

When she got home, Penelope raced up the steps to her room and slammed the door behind her. Her heart pounding, she stood with her back pressed against it as if keeping out the ghosts and felt as if she’d made a narrow escape. Every time she thought of that fatal headline a cold chill passed over her …

Jared Marton shot dead!
She tried to erase the words from her mind, but they seemed to repeat themselves over and over. Worse was the realization that there was nothing she could do to prevent him from being shot. If she tried to warn him, Jared would simply laugh at her and think her premonition ridiculous. Yet if things proceeded as she’d envisioned, she would allow him to court her and would fall desperately in love, only to lose him.

Penelope paced the room, her breath quickening in agitation. She remembered how grief stricken she had been when she learned that her parents had been killed, a tragedy that still haunted her. And even a few months ago, she’d lost a gentleman friend to yellow fever. Although she hadn’t loved the man, his passing was painful and she keenly felt the loss. Penelope sensed that if she allowed herself to love Jared and then lost him, she would never recover.

Her breathing slowed and she sat on the edge of her bed as the obvious solution came to her: she would send him a note and try to warn him. While he might not believe her if she confessed she was psychic, he could pay heed to a well-worded letter and act on a warning.

The tension in her stomach seemed to ease and Penelope sighed, relieved that the matter was decided. She would warn him, and then avoid him at all costs. Although he seemed determined, she had thwarted eager suitors before, and society made it quite easy for a lady to discourage a man. According to
Godey’s Lady’s Book
, even though he’d held her for a dance, she wasn’t obliged to so much as acknowledge him on the street.

Yes, she would put Jared Marton straight from her mind.

Even if the thought pained her heart.

The flowers began arriving Sunday afternoon.

Aunt Eve toddled to the parlor, puzzled by the vigorous knocking. When her maid opened the portal, she blinked in astonishment at the young lad standing on the step buried in yellow roses.

“For Miss Penelope,” he said, breathing heavily as he placed the enormous glass vase just inside the landing. “From the gentleman in town.”

“My word!” Eve was used to her beautiful niece receiving gifts, but this astounded even her. It was a magnificent spray of exquisite gold roses with sprigs of baby’s breath placed artfully between them. Eve glanced to the street and saw a wagon at the curb, and realized the poor urchin had carted the bouquet to the house. Rustling through her pocket, she found a coin. “Here is something for your trouble.”

The lad grinned in appreciation, accepting the tip. “Thank you, ma’am. They were a bit heavy. Bought up every flower in the shop, the gent did. Never seen a man so besotted.”

Closing the door, Eve shared a smile with the servant. “I wonder who they are from!” Thoughtfully she fingered the card pinned on the green bow. “Why, there must be two dozen flowers here!”

“Miss Penelope has got herself quite a secret admirer! And a very generous one at that!” Bertha said, shaking her head in admiration of the extravagant gift.

She had barely finished the sentence when another knock sounded. Eve and Bertha exchanged a surprised look, and then the maid hurried to answer the door.

“For Miss Penelope Appleton!”

A second boy peeped out from beneath an equally enormous display of roses, red this time, and struggled to place them beside the first vase. “From a gentleman friend,” he said, breathing heavily from the exertion.

The maid gasped. “Why, there are three dozen more!”

“At least.” Bewildered, Eve took out another coin and gave it to the boy, and then
stared in fascination at the roses. “Penelope must have made quite an impression on someone last night!”

As her name was mentioned, Penelope came downstairs, still yawning in her robe and nightdress. “What’s going on? I heard the door …” She paused at the bottom of the stairs and her lips parted in surprise as she stared at the opulent floral displays.

“What is all that?” she asked in confusion.

“Flowers for you!” Eve smiled while Bertha grinned from ear to ear. “They arrived a few minutes ago. Oh goodness, there is the door again!”

Penelope’s mouth dropped as another bundle of roses, even grander than the first two, came into the parlor with a delivery boy somewhere beneath.

“White this time!” Bertha exclaimed. These were artistically arranged in a brass bucket, with lacy lady ferns between them. “They smell wonderful!”

“I’ll fetch another coin.” Eve paid the delivery boy, and then turned to her niece in barely suppressed excitement. “My dear, do you know who sent them?”

“I can guess.” Penelope didn’t sound altogether happy as she unpinned the first envelope from a green bow. Her lips pressed tightly together as she read the note out loud. “ ‘Golden beauties for my golden beauty. Jared Marton.’ ”

“How romantic!” Eve cried. “And how poetic, comparing the yellow roses to you! Why, I remember in my day …” Her voice sputtered as Penelope determinedly walked across the floor with the bouquet and placed it in the rubbish bin. “Dear, what are you doing?”

“Putting these where they belong.” She retrieved the second and third bundle, and unceremoniously dumped them on top of the yellow roses. She finished her task by placing the lid on top of the can with a flourish, and wiped her hands together as if congratulating herself on a job well done.

“Dear?” Eve looked worriedly at her niece. “Is anything wrong? I’ve never seen you spurn a gift from an admirer before. And Mr. Marton seems such a nice man!”

“I don’t want anything to do with Jared Marton,” Penelope said firmly. “Not now or ever!”

Eve glanced at the maid, who was staring at the stuffed trash bin curiously. “But he is a friend of your sister’s, isn’t he? I remember he escorted Winnie to the ball last
year. Is that why you are uncomfortable with his attention?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Penelope said with a shake of her head. “I just don’t like him. I danced one time with him at the ball and thought him arrogant and conceited. He is ill-mannered, smug, and altogether poor company. I do not wish his gifts, his correspondence, or anything else for that matter!”

When Penelope turned on her heel and stalked back to her room, her aunt turned to the maid and eyed the rubbish bin sadly. “That is a shame to waste such lovely blooms. Perhaps we can give them to the church.”

“Good idea.” The servant nodded her head in agreement and retrieved the flowers. “They are too beautiful for the waste bin.” Her eyes went to the stairs. “Whatever Mr. Marton did, it sure struck the pretty missus in a bad way.”

Eve frowned, lightly touching a white rose. There was more to this story than she was being told, she thought wisely. And she had a feeling that whatever was going on, it was far from over.