Page 38 of A Lady Most Wayward
‘I miss you, Liza. How can I move forward in this life without you?’
You already have. The girl I loved is no more. In her place is a fearsome woman. You move forward because you are strong, and relentless, and you must.
Liza always knew how to sway Philippa to her way of thinking. Some things even death couldn’t change. But not this time.
Moments or millennia passed as sorrow seeped from Philippa, sinking into the ground, salting the earth with her pain. Dress sodden, fingers and toes numb, heart empty and echoing, she shook her head, refusing to acquiesce. ‘I can’t. I won’t.’
A crack of lightning split the air.
‘I control my choices. And I won’t let you go, Liza.’
Then you will never be free.
‘I don’t want to be free if that means you are truly gone.’
Yes, she was screaming into a storm. Yes, she was arguing with a woman who died twenty years ago. And yes, the dead woman was right. But Philippa would be damned if she admitted it.
Standing, Philippa staggered back down the hill. She was chilled to her bones, and her dress was ruined from the muddy field, but something had changed. Admitting her refusal to move forward – if only to the storm that raged on the edge of the Cornwall sea, and to the imagined ghost of her lover – shifted her anger from Liza to herself. Where it belonged. Because she was the only person responsible for her misery. And the only one capable of changing it.
Desperate for warm, dry clothes and a soft bed, Philippa almost missed the flickering yellow of a lantern bobbing along the road leading to the stone house.
A thrill of adrenaline rushed through her veins, blessedly distracting her from personal revelations.
Was Olivia looking for her? Or was this an intruder? Another one of the Devil’s Sons intent on finishing what the highwaymen were unable to accomplish?
Using speed and stealth developed from countless hours of training, Philippa dropped low, gliding over the fields with the grace of a predator. Her rate of speed would bring her to the house almost simultaneously with the intruder. The stranger was approaching the front of the house from the road, and she would reach the back from the field. She could sneak around the edge and determine if this nocturnal guest was friend or foe. But just as she approached the cobblestone courtyard between the small stable and house, the lantern shifted abruptly, slowly illuminating a wide arc around the left side of the cottage.
He is coming to the back. To the bedrooms.
Philippa adjusted her course. Pressing herself against the stable wall, she kept to the shadows. If the fickle moon came out from the clouds at the right time, it might just allow her enough light to identify the mysterious intruder. Of course, it might also allow him to see her, if he was looking in the right direction.
But great risk brings with it great reward.
And sometimes even greater defeat. The thrill of the hunt drowned out any hint of fear.
A nicker and huff from the stable, followed by a stomp of hooves, made it clear at least one creature marked her presence.
The lantern halted abruptly. The cloaked figure stood near the door leading to the kitchen, frozen like a rabbit in the fox’s sights. Philippa ducked into a darkened alcove used to store hay. Inching closer to the corner of the stable, she crouched low – hopefully lower than his sight lines – and peeked out, thankful for her dark hair and dress.
Olivia’s curls would be blazing even in the blackest of shadows.
A stupid thought to have, Philippa pushed it aside and focused on the lantern. Wind rushed through the courtyard, granting Philippa two favours.
The moon finally broke free of the clouds.
The man’s hood blew free, exposing his features to the silver moonlight.
Damn. Not a man at all. It’s Hyacinth. What the Devil is she up to?
As if she could hear Philippa’s thoughts, Hyacinth looked from right to left before pulling her hood back over her hair. Dousing the lantern, she snuck to the kitchen door and slowly twisted the handle. With a final glance that had Philippa ducking back behind the alcove, the stubborn girl slipped into the house.
Perhaps Callum was right. Mayhap Hyacinth was exchanging more than just letters with a sweetheart. Was she sneaking out in the middle of the night to see a man?
Philippa tapped a finger against her lips. Olivia’s daughter was as stubborn and headstrong as her mother. Confronting her about this would only have the girl dig her heels in deeper. Putting Hyacinth on a ship sailing to America and getting her away from whatever young man she had snuck out to see might protect her from more than just the Devil’s Sons. It might protect her from her own silly choices.
Philippa couldn’t believe she had granted Olivia her freedom without first extracting the name of the Crow. But in the moment, the words escaped before she could think better of it. Sending Hyacinth into the wilds of America alone seemed just as horrific a crime as letting Olivia escape justice.
But what kind of justice has she experienced? Ten years in an asylum. Separated from her daughter. Her reputation destroyed by a husband intent on controlling her completely. Is that not penance enough for her actions?
