“Your forbearance is worthy of a saint. Especially since you have protected the dowager from the truth of her son’s sins.”
Not wanting to discuss her husband, Pippa said, “I am ready to work again, Charlie. If I don’t find something to occupy my time, I fear I shall go mad.”
“If you are certain you are ready—”
“I’m certain.”
“Then I must first ask you a question.”
Pippa tilted her head.
“What transpired during your visit to the Nest?”
Taken off-guard, Pippa stammered, “You…you had me followed?”
“I am concerned about your welfare. And about the Prince of Larks’s interest in you,” Charlie said bluntly. “If he is harassing one of my agents, I will deal with him.”
Seeing Charlie’s steely expression, Pippa knew that her mentor meant every word. While she planned to steer clear of Cull, she couldn’t let Charlie think that he was an enemy of the Angels.
She took a breath. “He isn’t harassing me. On the contrary, his intention has been to protect me—even though I neither need nor asked for his help. On the night in question, however, I went to him.”
“Why?”
“At first, it was because I saw that one of Cull’s larks had followed me home. It made me angry,” she admitted. “I was determined to turn the tables on him, so I trailed him back to the Nest. I was going to tell him to back off…but when a ruffian came out of nowhere and tried to shoot him, I intervened.”
Charlie’s gaze narrowed. “Cull, is it?”
“That was what he went by. When I knew him all those years ago,” she said falteringly.
“I need you to be honest, Pippa. What are your feelings toward him?”
The question battered at her dam of self-control. To her horror, heat swelled behind her eyes.
She fought back the tears, blurting, “I’m so confused.”
“As men are perplexing creatures, that is no surprise. Do you wish to talk about it?”
Charlie’s will was formidable, her compassion even more so.
“Even though Longmere has been gone for a year, I still haven’t regained my equilibrium,” Pippa said in halting tones. “There are times I feel fine, almost like myself. Then at others, I feel sad and confused and…”
“Angry?” Charlie said matter-of-factly.
Pippa swallowed. “It isn’t fair of me to be angry. Longmere is dead. And he…he suffered for his mistakes.”
“Grief isn’t about fairness. It can take many forms, none of them right or wrong.” Charlie’s beautiful face hardened. “As widows, we are expected to mourn for our husbands, no matter what went on in our marriages. Sadness is the only public face we are allowed to show. It is only in private that we grapple with the complexities of what they left behind. I speak from personal experience. When Fayne passed, I grieved…but I also felt disappointment and rage.”
The words resonated like a church bell.
“I have felt disappointment…and anger as well,” Pippa confessed.
“That is a natural part of healing. You needn’t feel guilty, my dear.”
Pippa wished it were as simple as that. She hadn’t told Charlie—or anyone—about the role she’d played in Edwin’s demise. She couldn’t undo her mistake, but she could preserve the one thing of value she’d given her husband.
“Now tell me how Timothy Cullen fits into the picture,” Charlie went on.
“He kissed me. And I…I kissed him back.”
