He lifted his head and stared into Philippa’s cobalt eyes. It was strangely like looking in a mirror. ‘What about you?’
Philippa pulled back and rose to her feet, her face hardening into the lines of a woman in complete control. ‘We aren’t discussing me. We are talking about you. And what an utter mess you’ve made with Ivy because of this ridiculous martyr mentality. No one likes a sad sack, you know.’ Turning, her blackberry silk skirts swished around her legs. She tucked a non-existent loose hair back into her intricately coiled twist. Looking over her shoulder, she speared Edward with a scathing glare. ‘Punishing yourself for the rest of your life is very melodramatic of you. Rather Gothic, if you ask me. I expect better from the Commissioner of Scotland Yard.’
Edward leaned back in his chair and took his first deep breath in forever. Perhaps Philippa was right.
Of course she is. She’s always right, the bloody harridan.
He would never stop missing Liza. Never stop grieving her. Never stop wondering what life would be like if she was still present. But mayhap it was time to forgive himself. To finally do as his sister asked and not live a life of lonely misery.
‘She isn’t the only person I miss, Philippa.’
In lieu of a response, Philippa pulled a fan from her pocket and scratched her nail over one of the jewels.
‘I miss you. The friendship we shared once so long ago. If you are asking me to forgive myself, then I am asking you to let me back into your life. We are the only two people who really knew Liza. Can we not start there and rebuild our friendship?’
Philippa’s shoulders tightened. ‘You ask too much.’
‘I’m just following your example, Philippa.’
‘As painful as it is for me to admit, there are times – seldom and fleeting though they may be – when I also miss your friendship, but I don’t know if I have room in my busy schedule for anyone else.’
Standing, Edward crossed the distance between them and gripped her hand in his. ‘What about old friends who are sometimes prone to be melodramatic sad sacks?’
She sniffed. ‘Perhaps.’
It was as close as Edward would get to her agreement. ‘Thank you, Philippa.’ His voice cracked with a dangerous cocktail of grief, love, and hope.
She pulled from his grasp. ‘Don’t become maudlin. I can’t abide blubbering fools. We have a charity ball tonight and much to be done in the meantime. Namely, tucking your tail between your legs and devising an apology speech for Ivy to rival all others. Think of what you said here and then improve it by one thousand.’
‘Ah. There is the duchess I’ve grown to cherish.’
‘Fix this with Ivy so we can refocus on our mission. It’s time to capture a wolf.’
Philippa pulled the decorative rope to summon Stokes. After waiting several seconds, she pulled again. Harder.
Eventually, the door creaked open, and Stokes slowly entered, his back ramrod straight. His eyes focused on the floor three feet to the left of Philippa. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’
‘Fetch me my writing supplies, Stokes.’
The butler shifted his gaze to the writing desk tucked in the corner. He tipped his chin. ‘You mean, those writing supplies?’
Philippa rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be a fool. Those are for formal letters. This is just a little note to invite Ivy to take advantage of my lady’s maid and dress for the ball here instead of at the orphanage.’
‘You wish me to fetch informal stationery?’
Philippa looked at Edward and shook her head sadly. ‘Poor old stodger. He’s getting a bit…’ She looped a finger in circles next to her temple before refocusing on the butler. ‘Should I use smaller sentences? Is that the problem? Or just shout louder? Ink. Quill. Parchment.’
‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Stokes strode sedately over to the writing desk, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, dropped it on the floor, and trod on it. He bent, pinched the corner, and walked over to Philippa, holding out the slightly crumpled paper. ‘Casual notepaper, Your Grace.’
‘I sometimes wonder what life might be like without you, Stokes, but such fantasies are too good to ever be true.’
‘Certainly, Your Grace.’
Curling her lip like she had just eaten an unripe strawberry, Philippa rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure there’s something you should be doing to prepare for tonight, Stokes.’
‘Yes, Your Grace. Iwasdoing important work. But then you summoned me.’
‘Well, that was certainly a waste of everyone’s time, wasn’t it?’
