Page 64 of A Lady Most Wayward
Hannah’s smile was full of relief before she quirked her brow in confusion. ‘So why did you pull away? Because it looked a lot like you regretted holding Olivia’s hand.’
Philippa wished she had her fan. She desperately needed to thwack something. ‘I haven’t told her how I feel. And I’ve no idea if she feels the same. I thought I was putting her in an impossible situation. Forcing her to accept such a public display of affection without knowing if she wanted that. So, I pulled back.’
Millie’s look of sympathy confirmed Philippa’s worst fears.
‘Dear God. I made a terrible mistake. Didn’t I?’
‘Yes.’ Ten voices spoke in unison.
Bollocks. What the bloody hell am I going to do now?
Thankfully, she had a plethora of opinions on exactly how to rectify the situation.
The rest of the evening was spent making plans. But not to take down the leader of a nefarious brotherhood. Rather, to woo the heart of a lady.
19
Philippa had no appetite for her breakfast. Her belly was too full of regret to make any room for coddled eggs, crispy bacon, or buttered toast. Instead, she sipped a cup of bitter coffee and appreciated how the flavour fit her mood.
She and Olivia had fallen into a routine of breaking their fast together in the bright breakfast room, but this morning, her only company was a brooding Callum.
‘If you continue to saw at your plate like that, you shall be eating porcelain with your eggs. What has you so vexed?’ It was far easier to focus on the young lad’s problems than think about her own.
‘I don’t know why I’m still here. You clearly have no further use for me. I should have gone home after I delivered your notes. It’s just… I can’t leave without knowing she’s safe.’
Philippa raised an eyebrow at the man sitting to her left. He had high cheekbones, a strong nose, a firm jaw, and the darkened skin of someone who spent most of their time outdoors. The suit she had insisted on providing him to replace his homespun clothing while he was in London fit his broad shoulders and muscular frame well. The male form held no appeal for Philippa, but she could see how any young lady of the beau monde would find Master Callum an easy target for their flirtations. Yet, he seemed wholly uninterested in any of the pleasures London offered. Killian and Drake had taken an interest in the lad, and when he wasn’t traipsing to coffee houses with them talking about God knows what, he was spending his time in the kitchen with her usually taciturn French chef.
‘It is not easy when your feelings are engaged with someone who might not reciprocate.’ Philippa buttered a piece of toast she had no interest in eating.
The young lad swung his sharp gaze to Philippa, and she realised his eyes betrayed the haunted look of one who had endured hardships belying his twenty-odd years on the planet.
‘I have no particular fondness for Miss Smithwick. I just don’t like the idea of any innocent person falling prey to the hands of a monster.’
‘Ah.’ Philippa let the word hang between them for a moment. ‘And this comes from your own experience with monsters, Master Callum?’
The young man stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. ‘Please excuse me. I have matters to attend.’ He spoke through gritted teeth. Even in the height of his anger, he kept his manners stringently polite. She had to respect his self-control. She had poked a sore spot, and most men would strike, but instead, he forced himself to retreat.
Or perhaps he is trying to escape. But you can’t run from troubles. Facing them is the only way through.
Which is exactly what she intended to do as soon as Olivia arrived for her morning meal. In the quiet of the room, she realised how much she’d grown to enjoy sitting with Olivia. Sometimes, they would discuss whatever news made it above the fold ofThe Times; other times, Olivia would recount her latest penny dreadful tale, they would review the schedule for that day, or simply sit in companionable silence. Philippa had always taken her morning meal in her room, but since Olivia’s arrival, she found it much more pleasant to eat in the sunny breakfast room on the ground floor. Only this morning, she might as well have stayed abed. Olivia was nowhere to be found.
After loitering over her third cup of coffee until the brew grew cold, Philippa stood and threw her napkin on her plate. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to faff about all morning like some lovesick swain.
Even if that is exactly what I am.
If Olivia wasn’t going to come to Philippa, then she must go to her.
After a lengthy discussion with her friends the night before, one course of action was unanimously decided upon. She needed to apologise to Olivia. Beg her forgiveness. Declare her love. Hope for the best. Not particularly in that order, but all four elements must be present. She could hardly do that if she couldn’t first find the woman.
This mission proved more difficult than she imagined. After checking the library, front parlour, back garden and finally tapping at Olivia’s door and listening for any noises inside, Philippa was at a loss. The woman seemed to have disappeared. She would have inquired with Master Callum if he had seen her, but he was also mysteriously absent.
Dire times called for drastic measures. Standing in her morning room, she accepted the inevitable and rang for Stokes.
The butler arrived within minutes of being summoned. A rare occurrence for the man, who generally preferred to make her wait as long as possible.
‘Have you seen Lady Olivia? I need to speak with her.’ He knew bloody well what she wanted to talk about as he had found reasons to dally in the parlour the night before, eavesdropping on her entire conversation with her friends. Odious man.
‘She is out, Your Grace.’ His expression gave her no clues as to exactly where ‘out’ might be.
