Page 13 of A Lady Most Wayward
‘I think, despite her earlier behaviour, she is an honourable woman.’
Philippa’s snort was cut short as Ivy tugged the back of the dress together to button the simple wooden clasps.
‘Will you do me one favour, Philippa?’ Ivy asked as she finished the last button and stepped back.
Philippa turned to face the young woman who had once been as timid as a church mouse and now had the courage to stand against the Duchess of Dorsett. Not an easy task for a seasoned warrior, let alone a once-wilting wallflower. ‘Perhaps. What is it?’
‘Give yourself the opportunity to be wrong.’
Philippa raised her brow. ‘Since when is being wrong an opportunity?’
Ivy smiled. ‘Since being wrong lets us grow. Forces us to change. Invites a little unexpected wonder into our lives.’
Philippa stepped away from Ivy. ‘Is that what you’re hoping this trip will accomplish? Unexpected wonder?’
Ivy shrugged, her eyes widening in false innocence. ‘I’m just trying to help you accomplish your goal.’
Philippa raised a brow. ‘What goal might that be?’ Before Ivy could answer, she shook her head. ‘Never mind. The last thing I need in my life is unexpected wonder. It sounds dreadful.’
Ivy’s laugh did nothing to calm Philippa’s nerves.
The lean woman led the way to the door. ‘Not nearly as dreadful as the tedium of always being right.’
Philippa wanted to dismiss Ivy. She was close to fifteen years Philippa’s junior. What could she know about life that Philippa hadn’t already experienced three times over?
She might know a thing or two about wonder.
Philippa silenced the voice. She had no time for such ponderings. Wonder left her life the night Liza died, and she wasn’t about to invite it back in. Instead, she squared her shoulders and prepared for a long journey in a small carriage with her sworn enemy.
5
The carriage jerked to the left. Olivia put out her hand to avoid smashing her shoulder into the squabs. Her back ached, her left foot had gone numb, and she had to empty her bladder.
‘Must you constantly be shifting in your seat? You are worse than a child.’ Philippa sat across from her, their knees almost touching in the small coach. They couldn’t take Philippa’s more luxurious conveyance as it was emblazoned with her crest and would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind who was travelling the road to Cornwall. Ivy had taken Philippa’s carriage, and they had hired a coach with a surly driver who stated upon meeting them he didn’t think women should travel alone without a male companion. In his estimation, it wasn’t safe.
‘Oh, but we have you to protect us.’ Olivia led with flattery.
‘We are far safer alone than with any man.’ Philippa followed with abrasive honesty.
That had been hours ago, and since the carriage rolled out of the inn’s drive, Olivia was determined to keep her mouth shut and her eyes on the window as dawn crept over the sky, painting the clouds pink and yellow. Better to stay lost in her thoughts than attempt any conversation with the arrogant woman across from her.
The task would have been much easier if Philippa’s jasmine and frankincense scent weren’t surrounding her like a blanket. Or if her knee didn’t keep bumping against the duchess’. Or if her gaze didn’t keep wandering to Philippa’s brazenly painted mouth.
She was torn between anger at Philippa, who clearly thought Olivia measured somewhere between a sea slug and a parasitic worm, and fear the duchess might come to her senses, and demand the driver take them directly to Scotland Yard. Olivia couldn’t speak to the beautiful, horrible, infuriating duchess with any semblance of control, so she stayed silent. But Philippa seemed intent on poking her into some kind of reaction with her constant verbal barbs.
‘If I had known I would be travelling with someone incapable of sitting still for more than two minutes together, I might have rethought my choice.’
Fine. If you wish to provoke me, I shall meet you tit for tat.
‘Tell me, Lady Winterbourne, when did you first realise you were a sapphist?’
There. That should keep her quiet.
But instead of sputtering, or offering blatantly false denials, or doing as Olivia hoped and remaining quiet, she merely stretched her crimson lips in a smile that didn’t reach her cobalt eyes. ‘Ah. There is the mean-spirited woman Ivy refuses to see.’
Olivia opened her mouth to spit back a retort, but Philippa kept talking.
‘I was twelve.’
