“You must not be late, Luc,” his grandmother advised. “It would give the Earl of Stratton a very poor first impression.”
Who wasmakinghim late, for the love of all that was wonderful?
The butler opened the door and bowed him out with an inward beam of encouragement that did not quite transform itself into a smile. That might have damaged his dignity.
Precisely fourteen minutes later, Stratton’s butler received him in a far more correct manner, bowing formally as he took Lucas’s hat and gloves, leaving him only with a package containing a peach rosebud in his hand and a fervent desire for a great black hole to open at his feet so that he could drop both himself and the rose into it. The butler conducted him to the library he had visited before when he had come to invite Lady Philippa Ware to drive in the park with him—where they had met Charlotte and Sylvester, and the children had invited her to the kite flying, an event that had led to her being in the breakfast parlor at Arden House when the duke and duchess had arrived from Greystone in time to be introduced to her, a meeting that had led to... this.
The man who was standing in a forbidding manner before the fireplace, his booted feet planted slightly apart, his hands clasped at his back, looked rather formidable. He was not as tall as Lucas, but he was solidly built and held himself with upright military bearing. He was dark haired, unlike his sister—for this was presumably Stratton himself. His face might have been handsome were it not for the diagonal scar the duke had spoken of. The wound that had caused it must have come very close to taking off the top of his head or at least depriving him of his left eye. As it was, his face was merely memorable and perhaps attractive to women.
“Stratton, I presume?” Lucas said with an inclination of his head when the man did not rush forward with a smile of welcome and an outstretched hand.
“For many months,” the Earl of Stratton said without confirming his identity, “I have thought it would give me the greatest satisfaction to relieve you of your life,Roath.I still think it. Alas, Lady Philippa Ware has forbidden me to...make a fuss,as she puts it. It would cause a scandal, she tells me, and be an embarrassment to her as well as to my mother and my wife and younger sister. I must bow to her wishes since they are of greater importance than my personal gratification. To me my sister is verypreciousgoods, you see. Evenpricelessgoods. Have a seat.”
He indicated the armchair on one side of the fireplace and took the other himself.
Well, this was a colossal embarrassment, Lucas thought. For obviously Strattonknewand had known for some time.For many months...He must have known yesterday when he had luncheon with Grandpapa. He must have known when he agreed to this meeting. He must have... Oh, the devil! Bizarrely, Lucas was hideously aware of the peach rosebud clutched in his fist. Had the package swelled to three times its size since he stepped into theroom, or was that just his imagination? He was embarrassingly aware again too of looking like a dandy—despite his valet’s almost tearful denials.
His first inclination after recovering some of his wits was to turn and walk out without saying another word. But that, he realized just in time, would be the coward’s way out and something he would long regret.
He sat. He even made the effort to move back in the chair in order to give the appearance of relaxation.
“I had no idea until two weeks ago,” he said, “that Lady Philippa Ware overheard those impulsive, ill-considered words I spoke in the hearing of a number of her—andyour—male neighbors several years ago. She was some distance away with all the ladies, who were chatting and laughing among themselves. They were words I regretted immediately andhaveregretted ever since. Discourtesy is not a normal part of my behavior. Neither are insults or cruelty. Begging your pardon would be pointless. Beggingherswould be inadequate, as I have already told her. I am nevertheless quite sincerely sorry.”
“I will hear an explanation of those words,” Stratton said as Lucas set down his package on the table beside him. “They were spoken, I believe, immediately after you discovered that James Rutledge, the man with whom you had come to spend Easter, was a close neighbor of the Earl of Stratton—my father.”
“I have given Lady Philippa a very incomplete explanation,” Lucas told him. “She is entitled to a full one even though it will half kill me to give it. Iwillexplain to her, whether that be this morning if you will permit me to speak with her or she will permit me to do so, or at some other time, or eventually by letter if she will never again allow me speech with her. But it is toherI must make the explanation. Not to you or anyone else. What she does with the information when she has it will be up to her.”
Stratton gazed steadily at him across the distance between them, saying nothing.
“It would be inappropriate,” Lucas said, “to ask now for your blessing upon a proposal of marriage to your sister. I will not be making her an offer this morning—or perhaps ever. I do ask, though, that you allow me to speak with her. Unless, that is, she has already informed you that she does not wish to speak to me.”
Stratton set one elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his jaw upon his clenched fist. He had not once removed his eyes from Lucas’s.
“She does not,” he said. “Wishto speak with you, that is. She will do so, however. She wishes to inform you that an offer of marriage from you is abhorrent to her and that she will not tolerate hearing it now or anytime in the future. She is of age, however, and quite capable of speaking for herself. Get to your feet, Roath, and pull on the bell rope beside the mantel.”
Lucas did as he was bidden.
“I will leave you alone with her,” Stratton said after instructing the butler to ask Lady Philippa if she would be so good as to step down to the library. “However, my butler will remain in the hall and I will remove myself only as far as my secretary’s office through that adjoining door.” He pointed to it. “Any sound of distress from my sister will bring instant assistance through both doors.”
He was not even trying to avoid being insulting. Quite the opposite, in fact. But Lucas had a younger sister of his own and knew what it was to be protective of her. When that Jamieson fellow had come to take Jenny for a drive in the park a couple of days ago, Lucas had watched them go after advising the man not to stray from the well-traveled paths. Jenny had even taken him to task for it afterward and reminded him that she wastwenty-threeyears old.
Lucas was still on his feet when the door opened again to admitLady Philippa Ware, who was dressed simply in a high-waisted, high-necked, long-sleeved dress of pale green, with her hair styled in an equally simple knot at the back of her head. Instead of appearing plain and severe, however, as perhaps she had intended to do, she looked delicate and very, very lovely. He was powerfully reminded of his own elaborate appearance—like a damned Bond Street beau.
Their eyes met. Neither of them smiled.
“Pippa,” Stratton said. “The Marquess of Roath wishes to have a word with you. Do you wish to have a word with him?”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you, Dev.”
“I will be in the office if you should need me,” he said, nodding toward the other door. “Richards will be in the hall.”
“Thank you,” she said again, and waited until her brother had gone into the study and shut the door behind him before crossing the room and seating herself on the chair he had just vacated.
“Please sit down, Lord Roath,” she said.
—
A veritable storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions had kept Philippa tossing and turning on her bed throughout the night. She would have sworn she had not slept at all if she had not kept remembering bizarre events that had certainly not happened to her waking self. A dozen or more times during the night she had made the definite decision not to see the Marquess of Roath today when he came to Stratton House. And a dozen or more times she had decided that yes, she would. She would put an end to this... thisthingonce and for all. She could not think of another word by which to call it.Obsession, maybe? But that was far too exaggerated.
