“Yes,” Mother said softly. “Some of your letters are anonymous, and they were not penned by admirers.”
“I’ve told her a hundred times to cease reading your correspondence,” Father said from behind his newspaper.
“Philippa doesn’t want to read that rubbish either,” Mother said. “You would have seen her throw it into the fire if you had put down your broadsheet.”
“I’m reading about our daughter,” Father said. “She is the topic of a scandal column.”
“Me?” The word scratched Philippa’s throat. She’d known she would be mentioned, but Damaris was the heroine of the story—and the villain was her uncle. “What happened to Captain Northrup?”
“Oh, he’s ruined as well.” Father shook out his paper. “You’re infamous for coldly engineering the downfall of a celebrated gentleman of Polite Society.”
“I…Well, I…definitely did that,” Philippa admitted. “I would do so again.”
Her concern had been the women who had been wronged. A man like Northrup would only grow worse once he became a lord.
“You should have gone along with him,” Mother bit out bitterly. “You would have had afamoushusband, and atitle. What the dickens is wrong with you?”
“Why can’t you see that something was wrong withNorthrup?”
“Like ‘being the Prince’s favorite’?” Mother asked sarcastically. “Or, ‘soon to be honored publicly, with his betrothed at his side’?”
“Not everyone withdrew their suits,” Father said from behind his broadsheet.
“And that is where we find ourselves.” Mother’s lip curled in disgust. “Left with a handful of fortune hunters too eager for your dowry to care what kind of woman they wed. At this point, we must marry you off to anyone who will take you.”
“It’s not a difficult decision,” said Father. “The ‘handful’ is gone. There’s only one man left.”
“The dregs of the dregs, I’m sure,” Mother spat. “You could have married alord, Philippa. You chose to ruin him instead. The social consequences of your rash behavior—”
“It’smylife,” Philippa burst out. “I’m the one who must live with the consequences.”
“It’snotyour life,” Mother said coldly. “It’s all of our lives. You are not the only person in this household to receive vile correspondence. Did you pause to think how your behavior would affect your mother and your father? I have received several notes retracting prior invitations. Some from the wives of men your poor fatherbelievedto be staunch allies.”
Philippa’s lungs were suddenly devoid of air.
The fatherly voice behind the broadsheet did not come to her defense.
Losing the very friends Philippa had wished to protect was a horrid unintended consequence. Discovering she’d managed to lower her parents’ consequence in the process…Possibly even ruin her father’s carefully constructed alliances in the House of Commons…Philippa wrapped her arms about her stomach.
“Who is the last fortune hunter remaining?” Mother asked.
“Lord Whiddleburr,” Father’s voice replied.
Mother turned to Philippa. “What good fortune, darling! You’ll become a lady after all. That is, so long as the marquess does not hear of your scandal.”
“He doesn’t hear very well at all,” Father murmured. “He’s older than I am.”
“I’ve no wish to marry Lord Whiddleburr,” Philippa said with horror.
“You didn’t want to marry Captain Northrup, and you got that wish,” Mother said. “Now we will take charge. Go upstairs and stay in your bedchamber until your father has had a chance to finish the marriage plans.”
“Finish?” Philippa stammered. “You didn’t even know who it was until a few moments ago.”
“If we obtain his signature in the next few hours, perhaps the betrothal will stick. Whiddleburr and his heirs will be important allies in Parliament. With a special license, you could be married tomorrow.”
Philippa’s flesh went clammy. “Tomorrow?”
“You should be thanking us,” Mother said. “His title will elevate your nonexistent status and help mend the damage done to ours as well. Lord Whiddleburr will make a fine parliamentary ally for your father. After all of the trouble you’ve caused, it is the right—and only—thing to do.”
