“That is not the point, though, is it?” Stephanie said. “Do you think that by then she suspected he had other mistresses too? Or evenknewfor a fact that he did? Do you think that was why she never came to London with him during the spring after Ben was brought to Ravenswood to live? Because she did not want to comeface-to-face every day with the humiliation of knowing that everyone else knew too? Do you think she stopped loving Papa early in their marriage?”
“Oh, Steph,” Philippa said with a sigh. “How could shenothave suspected and evenknown? And how could she have continued loving him when he had donethatto her? Yet she kept it all bottled up inside for years and years before Devlin forced everything out into the open over that ghastly incident with Mrs.Shaw at the fete. Yet Mama was always warm and charming and apparently happily married. The thought of the reality of it is difficult to bear, is it not? For she made very sure we all grew up with the happy illusion that we were the perfect family. Oh, I think shemusthave been desperately unhappy for most of her life after the age of seventeen until Papa died. And since then? Was she suddenly happy again once he died? I do not suppose happiness quite works that way. I sometimes think I would gladly devote the rest of my life to staying with her and making her happy, but it is impossible, of course. She has to find her own happiness—or not. I think we could both help her somehow, though, if we can show her that we will not make the same mistake she made. Though how could she haveknown? There was no one more charming and affectionate than Papa.”
Philippaknewwhy her mother had kept everything bottled up inside. It was the innate compulsion some people—particularly women?—felt not to make a fuss, not to display their suffering and humiliation to the whole world or even to those who are nearest and dearest to them. Perhaps especially to those people. Just as she herself had never said anything about what had happened when the Marquess of Roath came to the maypole dancing practice with James Rutledge. For very pride’s sake she had kept quiet about the humiliation that had ravaged her life. There was all the horror of being pitied if one spoke out.
She rested her chin on top of the cushion she held and gazed through the window at a few small clouds that scudded by against a backdrop of blue sky.
But at long last, after Devlin had returned home, she had toldhim.And a burden had been lifted from her shoulders and a determination had been born to cast aside her depression and never again allow anyone the power to destroy her sense of self-worth. Yet she still guarded her secrets. Only Devlin knew that deepest one of all, and she hoped to keep it that way.
She had begun the life she was determined to live. She was here in London. She had just attended her first social event of her first Season, and, modest though it had been, she could count it a definite success. No one had pointed a finger at her and accused her of being soiled goods. No one had turned away from her as soon as they learned her identity. Quite the contrary, in fact. She had met young ladies who had greeted her as though they would like to be her friends and young gentlemen who had looked upon her with admiration, even speculative interest in a few cases. She had met older people who knew her mother and were delighted to make her acquaintance. She had not found it at all difficult to make conversation and feel that she belonged.
She believed Jenny Arden would definitely pursue a friendship with her and that Lady Catherine Emmett would gladly promote it. She knew too that when she attended other, larger entertainments in the coming weeks, she would find that she already had a base of acquaintances upon which to build. Lady Catherine had predicted that she would take thetonby storm. That was surely an exaggeration, but at least she felt confident that she would not be a total wallflower. And certainly not a pariah.Hehad said that to his knowledge there never had been any scandal in London, and thateven if there had been, it would have been forgotten within a very short while.
There had been no real unpleasantness in London or among theton,then. Yet upon hearing her father’s name on that infamous evening, the Marquess of Roath had recoiled in horror and looked uponher,the Earl of Stratton’s daughter, with revulsion and called her soiled goods. He had refused to dance with her, had abruptly left the barn before the practice had even begun, and had quit the neighborhood the very next day.
His words and his behavior had changed the course of her life. It was not too exaggerated a claim. Her confidence had already taken a hard hit after what had happened when she was fifteen. The future to which she had so looked forward had no longer seemed as bright and certain as it had always been. There had no longer been any glittering social events at Ravenswood—at just the time when she was old enough to start participating in them. Her three older brothers, all of whom she adored, had gone away. She had been trying to continue with her life nevertheless as though nothing had happened—except that she had been less sure of being loved and accepted wherever she went. There had been that one upsetting incident, for example, soon after the fete, when she had not been invited to a birthday party of a supposed friend and had found out about it quite by accident. But despite the setbacks, she had believed that once she turned eighteen and was taken to London for her come-out Season, all would be well again and she would live happily ever after.
Then he—the Marquess of Roath—had killed all her hopes and fragile dreams as well as her sense of self-worth with one short sentence.
Butwhy?
If there had been no real scandal among theton,and if he had been unaware of the local scandal, which had happened three years previous to his visit, why had he said what he had? Until moments before he said it he had apparently not even known that Papa lived close by, so it could not have been that someone had been telling him about that old upset.
“You have gone into one of your dreams, Pippa,” Stephanie said. “I hope it is a happy one. You will not make Mama’s mistake. You are older and wiser than she was, and you do not have parents pushing you into what seems an advantageous match. You will have the opportunity to meet more people than Mama ever did. More men. And you have enough good sense and enough experience of the dangers of choosing without due consideration to decide wisely whom you will marry.”
Philippa smiled warmly at her. “You have such faith in me,” she said. “I will try not to let you down, Steph.”
Having to smile athimthis afternoon and actuallyset her hand in his, and then having to sit near him during tea while doing her best to participate in the conversation and laugh with the others, had been nothing short of torture. Talking to him tête-à-tête after Sir Gerald Emmett had pushed Jenny away in her wheeled chair had been the stuff of nightmares. He had been sitting uncomfortably close and gazing directly into her eyes as he spoke earnestly to her, trying to explain his behavior of four years ago without explaining it at all. Indeed, he had raised more questions than he had answered. He had not answeredany.And she had been compelled all the while to contain her anger, to speak softly, even occasionally to smile, for they had been surrounded by other people, any number of whom might have been observing them.
She could never, ever forgive him no matter how earnestly hetried to convince her now that she hadmisunderstood.What was there to misunderstand inI do not dance with soiled goods?
Was that you?he had asked her. He had ruined years of her life, yet he had not evenrecognizedher this afternoon. Not even hername.
It was too much to hope that she would not see him again for the rest of the Season, of course. Indeed, even before she came to London she had accepted the possibility that he might be here too. But now they had not only met. They had been introduced to each other. Lady Catherine, who was one of Mama’s oldest and dearest friends, was his aunt. Jenny Arden, with whom Philippa had already begun a friendship, was hissister.She had sat to take tea in a very small group that included the marquess. They had talked tête-à-tête together for what must have been all of ten minutes after their two companions moved away. Everyone in the room would have noticed. They were both young and new to London, after all, and they were both very eligible.
It would be almost impossible now to ignore him when they met again. She could only hope that they could avoid each other as much as possible without being too obvious about it.
“You could never let me down whatever you did, Pippa,” Stephanie said. “You are my sister.”
Sometimes it was hard not to shed tears.
—
The following morning, Lucas offered to take Jenny to call upon Charlotte, their older sister, who was also in town with her husband and children. Gerald had already made arrangements to take her and his mother to Hookham’s library, however. So he went alone.
Both Charlotte and Sylvester, Viscount Mayberry, were in the nursery with their children. Sylvester was constructing an elaborate-looking kite with the aid of Timothy, aged nine, and Susan, aged five. Charlotte sat wedged into a chair with Raymond, their seven-year-old, as he read her a story he had written the day before while his parents were attending what Charlotte described as a stuffy afternoon gathering of literary and political types.
“But we felt compelled to go,” she told her brother as she turned her face so he could kiss her cheek. “It was being hosted by close neighbors of Sylvester’s when he was growing up. I daresay you had a far more jolly time at Aunt Kitty’s tea. I would have very much preferred to be there. But what a delightful surprise this is, Luc. We knew you were coming to town—Grandmama wrote to tell me so. But we had a wager on, Sylvester and I, over how long you would drag your feet before actually getting here. Neither of us came even close. A pity. I had plans for my five guineas.”
“Uncle Luc,” Raymond cried as though he were speaking to someone in the next room, “do you want to hear my story?”
“Is it full of blood and mayhem and monsters with red eyes and three rows of pointy teeth?” Lucas asked, frowning.
“Uncle Luc!” Susan screeched. “Come and see my kite.”
“Yourkite?” Timothy sputtered. “Papa, tell her—”
“How do you do, Lucas?” Sylvester said, grinning. “Welcome to our usual tranquil, happy abode.”
