She understood immediately the enormity of the question. If she said no, she knew there would be the end of it, whether he lived on or not. An end to all the harassment—if that was the right word. All thepersistence.If she said no... It was a simple question with a one-word answer. But what was that word to be? What was the truth? It was a time for truth, not merely an answer she knew he wanted to hear. Or one she felt she ought to give. That one word he wanted might comfort a dying man, but she had to live on. And she owed him nothing. She could not ask for time. He might not have time. But what was there to ponder when she was being asked to choose between two extremes? The answer could not be both.
“Yes,” she said.
He looked at her for a second or two longer before closing his eyes again, and the duchess inhaled slowly and audibly.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said. “May we impose upon you to stay a little longer before the carriage takes you home? It is getting late, I know.”
“I will stay as long as I am needed,” Philippa said, and she turned and left the room. The butler closed the door behind her and escorted her back to Jenny’s room, where Lady Catherine, Sir Gerald, and Jenny’s sister and brother-in-law were still keeping her company. They all gazed at her with expressions of avid inquiry.
“Pippa?” Jenny looked alarmed, and Philippa realized there were tears in her eyes. One was actually running down her cheek. She brushed it away.
“I believe he may be sleeping,” she said. “Her Grace asked if I would remain with you a little longer, Jenny, before going home. But I do not wish to intrude. Perhaps—” Oh dear, thiswasawkward. Jenny was surrounded by her family and no longer needed the presence of a mere friend. A recently made friend at that.
“Please stay,” Lady Catherine said. “Though the imposition is on our side, Pippa, not yours. Sit down with us, and we will have a fresh pot of tea brought up. When we know for sure that my father is asleep and my mother has settled for the night, then Gerald will see to it that you are conveyed safely home. He will escort you. We will be in your debt for this for a long time.”
“We will indeed,” Lady Mayberry said with a smile. “I am sorry you had to be dragged away from Almack’s so early in the evening, Pippa.”
“I will wait until tomorrow morning, then, to see Grandpapa,” Jenny said with a sigh. “But poor Pippa. You danced only the opening set. What were you and Grandpapa talking about before he had his attack? You both looked quite merry.”
“He had just informed the Countess of Lieven that he had reserved the second set with me and I could not therefore dance withMr.Wiseman,” Philippa explained. “I was telling him that it would serve him right if the set consisted of some vigorous reels.”
Viscount Mayberry laughed, and they all joined him. It actually felt good, Philippa thought. At least it would be a lighthearted memory for them all to carry forward into the future, no matter what happened in the next few hours or days.
“The gall of the man,” Lady Catherine said. “To prevent you from dancing with a man who must be at least fifty years younger than he. He really can be quite outrageous. Yes, do ring for a tea tray if you will, Charlotte.”
The duke’s daughter and his grandchildren recalled similar stories about him while they all waited for the tray to arrive. They laughed a great deal. There was nothing unfeeling or irreverent about it, though, Philippa thought. Quite the contrary. They were all on the edge of tears too.
“Ah, here comes the tea,” Lady Catherine said at last when there was a tap on the door. It was not a maid or footman who appeared, though, but the butler himself. He bowed to Lady Catherine.
“The presence of Lady Philippa Ware is requested, my lady,” he said.
What?Again?But how very embarrassing.
“Really?” There was an edge of something in Lady Catherine’s voice, and Sir Gerald Emmett was frowning. She ought to have gone home as soon as she left the duke’s room, Philippa thought. This was really an embarrassment. “Then you must go, Pippa. I am so sorry about this.”
The butler did not speak again while Philippa stepped out of the room and he closed the door behind her. He led the way, but not to the duke’s bedchamber this time. He stopped outside a room two doors down from it, tapped on the door, and opened it.
“Lady Philippa Ware, my lord,” he said, and she stepped insidea sumptuously furnished sitting room she guessed to be the duchess’s. The duchess was not in there, though, despite the cheerful crackling of a fire and the light shed by numerous candles in branches on the mantel and in wall sconces about the room. The only occupant was the Marquess of Roath, who turned away from the fire as she came and gazed at her. His face was as parchment white as his grandfather’s, she noticed.
She gazed back at him. She did not step away from the door when it closed but actually took a step back so that she could clutch the doorknob behind her with both hands.
Seconds passed. They felt more like minutes.
“My grandfather is capable of wielding enormous power,” he said then. “I have no idea how he does it. It must be a combination of rank and character and reputation, I suppose. He never expects his will to be crossed and therefore it never is. With one word he can send forth his secretary in the middle of the night, and the man will return before the night is over with a special marriage license issued by the Archbishop of Canterbury, though it is doubtful that the archbishop himself will be required to rise from his bed to issue it. It will allow the couple named on the license to marry at a time and place of their choosing, not necessarily a church.”
He paused and set an elbow on the mantel. Philippa clutched the doorknob more tightly.
“All this my grandfather can do,” he continued. “He can obtain the services of a clergyman and he can arrange for the recitation of the wedding vows in the drawing room below here at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. He can even command the presence of the prospective bridegroom. Hebelieveshe can command that of the prospective bride too. That, however, isnotwithin his power if the lady herself should utter the one word that will prevent this whole series of events from happening.”
His face was grim and set. His eyes, expressionless and perhaps cold, bored into hers.
“Lady Philippa,” he said. “Will you do me the great honor of marrying me tomorrow?”
Tomorrow.
She felt as though a great ball of ice had lodged in her stomach.
Tomorrow?
