Page 63 of A Lady Most Wayward
‘It wasn’t until I met Ivy that I understood how much more I had to live for, to fight for. Knowing how blessed I am to have her in my life, I want to ensure others have that same opportunity. Even those who might not think they deserve it.’ Edward raised his brow at Philippa. She would wager he’d practised the look in a mirror for this specific occasion.
Bastard.
‘I for one can attest that Lady Ivy has bettered your general mood and demeanour, sir. You are almost tolerable to be with now, and that is a vast improvement.’ Reading sipped his sherry and wrinkled his nose, his thin moustache wriggling on his upper lip like a blond caterpillar.
Enough. I will not sit here and be lectured on the virtues of love.
Philippa stood and paced in an agitated track to the fireplace, whirling around to face the group. ‘Will you all please stop! I know what you are trying to do.’
Hannah parted her mouth in an expression of mock-innocence. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘You want me to admit that I was wrong about Olivia. Fine! I was wrong. I am not always right, all the time.’
‘Just mostly right most of the time,’ Edward said.
‘Yes, exactly.’ Philippa was having trouble keeping her thoughts organised. Her chest felt tight, she couldn’t breathe normally, her pulse pounded in her ears, and she had a distinct impression that her voice might be shrill. Her voice was never shrill. Looking at the whiskey glass she had left on the low table next to the settee, she wondered if Stokes really had added hemlock to the spirits.
Ivy approached Philippa slowly, the way one might a spooked horse. ‘You do know we all love you, don’t you?’
What madness was this? Not only were they needling her to admit her love for Olivia, but now they were declaring their own feelings about Philippa? It was nonsensical. One did not openly discuss their affection for others while drinking port in the front parlour. They certainly didn’t declare their love in front of half a dozen of their closest friends when they hadn’t even admitted their feelings to the person upon whom their love was bestowed. Philippa couldn’t find words, so she shook her head in blatant denial of Ivy’s statement.
Millie walked over, putting her warm hand on Philippa’s arm and holding tight even as she tried to pull back. ‘And we all believe you deserve to find love again.’
She was hallucinating. Probably a side effect of the poison Stokes put in her cup. She was going to kill him. Then sack him. Then bring him back from the dead to kill him again. They should be discussing how they were going to take down the leader of the Devil’s Sons. Not Philippa’s love life. The very idea was horrifying.
Hannah stood from the settee and joined the trio of women. ‘It doesn’t matter who you love, as long as they are worthy of you, Philippa.’
Penny stayed next to Liam, but her voice carried easily across the quiet room. ‘And Olivia seems exceedingly worthy, Your Grace.’
‘Liza would have liked her.’ Edward’s much softer words hit Philippa like a fist in the belly. Because he was right. She would have loved Olivia’s spark. Her stubbornness. Her courage to stand toe to toe against Philippa.
‘You don’t need to hide your relationship from us, Your Grace,’ Reading added. ‘I might delight in judging others, but I would never judge you for whoever it is you love.’
‘If you want to hold Olivia’s hand at dinner, bloody well do it.’ Millie squeezed her arm, her wide smile and brimming eyes testament to the woman’s affection for Philippa.
But they didn’t understand. They thought she pulled back from Olivia at dinner because she was worried about their reactions. That wasn’t the case at all.
Dear God. Is that what Olivia thought? Is that why she left?
Dread filled her belly as she realised her mistake. ‘I’m not worried about what you think.’ Philippa struggled to put her own thoughts into words.
‘Ah. Well. That’s a relief. We assumed you might actually care about our opinions. How silly of us.’ Drake’s rough voice was dry as the desert where he once fought.
Philippa never had trouble expressing herself. But tonight was for the books because nothing was happening as it should. The very idea that Olivia might have thought she was embarrassed of her, that she pulled away because she didn’t want her friends to know of her esteem, was so patently opposite of how she felt, Philippa was certain she would be sick all over her favourite evening gown.
‘I love Olivia.’ The words burst forth like water breaking free of a dam. And it felt bloody marvellous to admit her feelings out loud, even if she’d been bullied into doing it by her closest friends.
‘Yes. We are all aware.’ Stokes had entered the room with his habitual quiet step.
Philippa turned to the door where he stood with a full bottle of amber liquid. More whiskey. Probably full of arsenic. She glared at him before turning back to the others.
‘I wasn’t trying to hide my feelings for her because of any fears you might not accept us.’
‘Really?’ Drake raised a broken brow, his scepticism obvious.
‘No. I have more faith in you than that. Well, most of you.’ Again, Philippa shot Stokes a baleful look as he refilled Killian’s glass.
The butler studiously ignored her.
