Tilly moved to take up Pippa’s hands. “I promise you, my friend. The Duke of Northwich is an honorable man. He fought for Adrian’s early release from Dunsworth. He has been nothing but a good friend and a man of true integrity.”
“This has proceeded with so much haste,” she said, giving voice to another of her fears. “I ought to have waited for the letter from my brother to arrive first.”
But she had no notion of whether or not her brother would even deign to respond. Her relationship with Worthington had been strained and distant for years now, ever since she had married George. Her husband’s dislike of her brother had been no secret; he had called Worthington a fool for giving in to the weakness of gambling. Nothing was as simple as it had once seemed. Now, she had to wonder at the true reasons.
“You do not need to marry Northwich, you know,” Tilly was quick to point out, and not for the first time since the news of the surprise—and hasty—nuptials had been delivered to her. “You are more than welcome in my home. Adrian and I would be honored to have you and Charlotte as a guest, and Robby would be beside himself with joy at the prospect of having a friend to play with each day.”
Her friend’s selfless offer still warmed Pippa’s heart. “You are more than generous, and it is wholly undeserved after what my husband did to yours. But you know that I would not dare to put you, Adrian, or Robby in any sort of danger.”
“We are going to the country.” Tilly’s hands tightened on Pippa’s once more. “I highly doubt these vermin shall follow and find you there. It is not you they are interested in, but whatever evidence George may have kept which implicates them.”
That was also true, but once again, Pippa would not run the risk of bringing any more pain into her dear friend’s life. Tilly and her husband had already endured far, far too much. Their happiness had been hard fought and hard won. This battle was Pippa’s to fight.
“Once more, my darling friend, I thank you,” she said gently. “But I cannot accept your offer.”
“Youcanaccept it,” Tilly pointed out. “But you will not.”
She offered her friend a sad smile. “You are correct. I will not. I love you far too much to accept, and you know it is hardly in your best interest to offer me lodging when this terrible cloud is hanging about me. A man was perhaps killed for the role he played in this. I would never dream of bringing such danger upon you.”
“It is not too late to change your mind.”
The mantel clock was ticking steadily. The sun was steadily rising over the city beyond the windows in the drawing room. The curtains had been pulled back to reveal the street below and allow the sunlight to brighten the massive room.
“I shall not change my mind now,” she decided at last. “I will marry him.”
“If it gives you any comfort, I do believe Northwich cares for you a great deal. I have seen the way he looks at you when you are not watching. And as for the embrace I happened upon…” Tilly’s words trailed off, but the expression on her face was knowing.
Yes. There had been that embrace. Those wicked, wondrous kisses.
And there had been far more before that, a lifetime ago, it seemed now.
“I shall take comfort in that,” she assured her friend. And it was partially true.
There was some solace in believing the Duke of Northwich may have some tender feelings toward her. He was exceedingly difficult to read. He had spoken of marrying her so dispassionately, as if the act were as commonplace as riding his mount on Rotten Row. And she had jilted him before.
Moreover, her experience with George had proven she was not as adept at judging character as she had supposed. He had kept so many secrets from her. Had lied to her. He had told her he loved her, and yet he had manipulated her, had hidden from her his true nature. Had he manipulated her into marrying him five years ago?
She had to admit the answer seemed an exceedingly likely, increasingly resounding, yes.
A knock sounded at the door, heralding the arrival of Northwich, Adrian Hastings, and the clergyman Northwich had somehow inveigled to marry them in such unprecedented haste.
The time had come.
The clergyman was speaking, but Pippa’s mind could scarcely comprehend words at the moment. She was hopelessly adrift. Positioned beside Northwich by the tall, mullioned windows. Tilly and Adrian flanked them, and for a moment, her mind could appreciate the irony. Not long ago, she and Northwich had stood with Tilly and her husband. Now, their roles were reversed.
That occasion, much like this one, had been rife with tension.
And look at how happy Tilly and her husband were now. How very much in love.
The reminder sparked a bit of foolish, fragile hope in her heart. Could she find some semblance of happiness with the Duke of Northwich? Or at least contentedness? Would she be able to escape the sins of George’s past, which had suddenly become so intent upon following her?
Her head was aching as she forced her gaze to meet Northwich’s. His dark stare was intent and unreadable. The tightness in her chest seized her in a painful grip. She was either making an excellent decision or the worst decision of her life.
But she no longer had just herself to worry about.
She had Charlotte.
And her daughter’s safety had to come first. Chief Inspector Stone’s words were echoing in her mind. A man was dead.
