Tomorrow's Dreams by Heather Cullman Page B

next to Penelope’s and kicked off her slippers. “I shudder to think what might have happened if your brave knight hadn’t rescued you.” Resting her left foot on top of her right knee, she inspected where her big toe had poked a hole through her stocking.
    Penelope stared stupidly at her companion’s exposed toe for a moment, her mind still too foggy to grasp a coherent thought. Knight? Rescue? Then the fog cleared, and she grimaced as the events of the dismal evening came crashing back.
    Too distracted by the sorry state of her stocking to notice her friend’s discomfiture, Euphemia rattled on. “Fine figure of a man, your rescuer. Handsome as a prince. Gallant to a fault.”
    Penelope rolled her eyes heavenward. She was in no mood to listen to Effie’s tiresome fluttering over members of the opposite sex. Especially when that member happened to be Seth Tyler. Snatching up her cleansing cloth, she grumbled, “Believe me, Effie. The man isn’t gallant.” As she resumed scrubbing her face, she was again surrounded by Seth’s distinctive scent.
    Frowning, Penelope held the cold-cream-stained square of fabric up by one corner. What in the world …?
    Abruptly she released the cloth, wrinkling her nose with distaste. No wonder she was daydreaming like a witless ninny. She was cleansing her face with Seth’s handkerchief. The blasted thing smelled just like him.
    â€œHe didn’t take … liberties , did he?” Effie dropped her foot to the floor, her blue eyes round as saucers. “Do tell!”
    â€œWell?” Effie prompted, scooting her stool closer.
    Which she undoubtedly has , Penelope thought sourly. Still glaring at the handkerchief, she snapped, “I know the unsavory man from San Francisco. His name is Seth Tyler, and he’s considered to be the worst kind of rogue.”
    â€œSeth.” Effie sighed like a schoolgirl with a crush. Penelope decided she’d nip Effie’s romantic infatuation in the bud quickly enough.
    Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she confided, “Mr. Tyler has a terrible reputation where women are concerned. He’s so lecherous that mothers shudder in horror and lock their daughters in their rooms when he comes to call. Why, the only reason polite society receives him at all is because he’s so darn rich. The cad practically owns half the town.”
    Of course, except for the part about Seth being rich, the allegations were out-and-out lies. Not only was Seth respected by the men of the city; he was considered quite a catch by the unmarried girls and their matchmaking mamas. Not that she was about to tell Effie any of that.
    Apparently she didn’t have to. “A naughty rascal, eh?” Effie’s face took on an expression of starry-eyed bliss. “Nothing like a touch of wickedness to make a man interesting. I remember being courted by a particularly handsome devil back in—” She stopped mid-sentence, squinting myopically at her friend’s face. “Why, just look at your nose! It’s redder than a piece of raw meat.” She pointed at the offending feature, clearly appalled.
    Penelope drew the cracked lantern closer to the tarnished mirror and peered at her reflection. Effie was right Her skin looked dreadful. Not only did her nose look as if someone had dropped a cherry in the middle of her face; her skin was blotchy from her agitated rubbing and her eyes were red from crying.
    Lovely. Not only had Seth Tyler destroyed her peace of mind, but he was ruining her looks as well.
    Seeing her friend’s morose expression, Effie crooned soothingly, “Never you mind, dear. I have just the thing to restore your complexion.” After giving Penelope’s cheek a fond pat, she turned to the bewildering array of toiletries on the table before her, her face as serious as that of a conjuring necromancer. After much muttering and frowning, she finally