It was hopeless. There was no point in continuing to argue. For Lucas’s definition ofharassmentwould never match that of his grandparents. In their minds they were conferring a great favor upon Lady Philippa Ware by making it clear they would welcome her as a bride for their grandson and heir.
“I will do my best,” he said weakly. “But even my best efforts may not induce her to say yes, you know. And if I ask her and she says no, then there will be an end of the matter. I hope, Grandmama, you have a few other names on your list of eligible brides.”
“I do,” she said. “Including Miss Thorpe, who seems a sweet enough girl and is prettily behaved. But Lady Philippa does appear to be outstanding. Now, I am to go shopping with Kitty this morning, if she should decide to get up before the clock strikes noon. According to her, all my hats are antiquated and she is embarrassed to be seen with me—notthat she has said that last quite so bluntly, of course. I must go and get ready.”
The two men rose with her and watched her leave the breakfast parlor.
“I am off to the House to see to the business of the nation,” the duke announced. “Make sure you send those flowers, Luc. And get busy on that courtship. This is important to Her Grace, and Her Grace is important to me.”
A low blow indeed, Lucas thought as he tossed his napkin onto the table and followed his grandfather from the room. The duke was not above a bit of blackmail when it suited his purpose.
—
Philippa returned home that afternoon from a walk in the park with her mother and sister to the discovery that no fewer than four gentlemen with whom she had danced last evening had left their calling cards in her absence. The cards were spread upon a silver salver in the hallway beside a small pile of what looked like fresh invitations. They must have been delivered by hand after the day’s post arrived earlier.
Then, when they went into the library at the suggestion of the butler before going upstairs to divest themselves of their outdoor garments, it was to the discovery that the room looked and smelled like a particularly lavish flower garden because of all the bouquets that had been delivered since they left to add to those that had arrived during the morning. They had all been arranged in bowls and vases and even a few larger urns.
It was not the flowers that took their immediate attention, however, or accounted for the butler’s urging that they come here before they did anything else. For there, examining the floral offerings and the messages and signatures upon the cards that accompanied them, were Gwyneth and Devlin. The Earl and Countess of Stratton themselves.
“Someone,”Devlin said, turning toward the door, “is taking thetonby storm. I believe that is the correct term, is it not? Could it beyou, by any chance, Pippa?”
But Stephanie had given a quite unladylike whoop of delight and hurled herself into her brother’s arms, and Mama had hurried forward with an exclamation of joy to hug Gwyneth. Philippa meanwhile stood beaming at them both, her hands clasped to her bosom, feeling a rush of pure happiness. All would be well now. She did not stop to consider how all hadnotbeen well before they came.Last night and today had been a great triumph for her, after all, though she was trying hard not to let it all go to her head. She had been launched upon society, and society, it seemed, had opened its arms to welcome her.
“You are here,” she said.
“At last,” Devlin said, releasing Stephanie and turning to hug Philippa. “I hope I am not merely dreaming it and am about to wake up to discover I am still in the carriage with a hundred miles yet to go. Having seen all these flowers, Pippa, and having read about the number of devoted servants you appear to have collected if the accompanying cards are to be believed, I feel impelled to sayI told you so.Expect me to gloat.”
Stephanie had said it before him this morning.
“You must be very weary, Gwyneth,” Mama said.
“We thought you wouldnevercome,” Stephanie added, beaming from one to the other of them.
“We would have been here two days sooner, perhaps even three, if your brother had not insisted that we make the journey inveryshort stages, Steph,” Gwyneth said.
“Well, pardon me for being a considerate husband,” Devlin said while Gwyneth laughed at him. “Go on, then. Tell them. We had planned to keep it for tonight, after dinner, but what is wrong with this afternoon? Especially when we are surrounded by flowers and the room is looking very festive.”
“It seems I am in a delicate way,” Gwyneth said, and blushed.
Stephanie shrieked again and rushed at her sister-in-law, Philippa hugged her brother, and this time it was Mama’s turn to clasp her hands to her bosom and beam at them all.
“Oh,” she said. “My second grandchild. How very well blessed I am going to be.”
For which words Philippa loved her. For Joy was not really hergrandchild. Ben was not really her son. He was the illegitimate offspring of one of Papa’s mistresses. But Mama had always behaved as though both Ben and Joy were her own.
“He or she should be putting in an appearance around or about November,” Devlin said. “Maybe sooner. Gwyneth suspected before we went to Idris’s wedding, but she did not say a word, even to me—especiallyto me—lest she be forbidden to travel.”
“We are very happy,” Gwyneth said. “So are Mama and Papa, as you may imagine. And so is Ben. We made a short detour to Penallen on the way here so we could let him know. He is coming here soon—ah, and now I have spoiled his surprise. Joy has outgrown all her prettiest clothes and I have promised to go shopping with him. But enough of all that. You are all looking very well indeed. You are not sorry you came to London, Steph, instead of staying at home with Miss Field?”
“I am not,” Stephanie assured her. “I have walked all around the Whispering Gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral even though my knees were knocking, and I have watched the launch of a homemade kite in Hyde Park. I have explored every corner of Westminster Abbey and been to Hampton Court by boat. I have met a real, live duke—the Duke of Wilby—and his duchess, and they looked upon me kindly and even spoke to me. And Pippa already has so many beaux that soon she will not know what to do with all the flowers. She did not have to sit out a single set last evening at Lady Abingdon’s ball. She even danced thewaltzes.Lady Jersey gave her permission. ThefamousLady Jersey.”
“Yes, we have been reading the cards that came with the bouquets,” Devlin reminded her. “Including the anonymous one with the single rose.”
“It is on the mantel,” Gwyneth said when she saw Philippa looking about the room. “A very clever gentleman, I would say.Instead of trying to impress you by going larger than all the rivals he must have known he would have, he went small and exquisite.”
“Here,” Devlin said, and reached up to take down the card that had been propped against a narrow crystal rose vase. He handed it to her and she read it.
Neither red nor pink. Just a perfect peach rose.
