Page 51 of A Lady Most Wayward
Philippa stepped back as though she’d been struck. ‘You have no idea what you are asking. I thought that way once. With Liza. And then she was taken from me and chose death over the reality she faced. Loving someone the way I love her is not a gift. It is a curse that strips everything from you. Your strength. Your choice. Your power. I would never wish that on you, and I certainly won’t subject myself to such torture ever again. I can give you pleasure. I can give you physical intimacy in the short time we have together. I can give you comfort, because you deserve that at the very least. But that is all. I cannot give you love or lifelong companionship. If you seek that from me, you will only be disappointed.’
Olivia felt her heart stretch and snap. Pain poured forth like poison from a wound. She realised, in her stupidity, that that was exactly what she wanted from Philippa. Even if she knew it was impossible. ‘Disappointment is something I’m used to. I just didn’t expect to be disappointed in you.’ She watched each word strike Philippa like arrows.
Good. I shouldn’t have to suffer alone.
Brushing a hand down her tragically wrinkled travelling gown, Philippa pulled her shoulders back, her face hardening into the mask of the duchess. ‘Baths have been brought to our rooms. I’m sure you are weary from our travels. I suggest we each retire and refresh ourselves before dinner. We will have much to discuss with the others if we hope to rescue your daughter, catch the Crow, and grant you the freedom you desire.’
Ah. Back to the mission. Because tracking down an insidious murderer is far easier than arguing with me. Fine. Wonderful.
Olivia executed a dramatic curtsey. ‘Of course, Your Grace. I wouldn’t dare disagree with the duchess. Except for one point, that is.’
Philippa pressed her lips together. Olivia should have guessed she wouldn’t rise to the bait. No matter. She would speak her mind whether or not Philippa wished to hear it.
‘I’m sorry you lost Liza. I wish I could heal that pain, protect you from the sorrow. Truly, I do. But love is not a curse. It is a gift. If one is courageous enough to accept it.’
‘That isn’t fair.’ Philippa’s mask slipped. Raw grief shone in her eyes.
Once more, Olivia’s fight faltered, making way for soul-aching empathy. For what Philippa had lost. What Liza – a woman she had never met, yet someone she felt a certain kinship with – had suffered. But she wouldn’t back down. ‘No. Life isn’t fair. What happened to Liza wasn’t fair. Losing your first love wasn’t fair. But shutting yourself off from life’s beauty for fear of its cruelty isn’t fair either. To you. To Liza. Or to me. You are stronger than this, Philippa.’ Olivia turned and walked away because she couldn’t stay.
15
Olivia leaned back in her chair, the plush padding pressing pleasantly against her lower back, and wished her corset weren’t quite so tight. Philippa’s cook must be a sorceress for each course delivered to the massive dining table by a bevy of servants eclipsed the last in splendour.
She let her spoon rest in the remaining drizzle of caramel sauce on her plate from a crème brûlée that gods and goddesses might trade their ambrosia to eat.
‘That was delightful!’ Millicent Drake, a copper-haired temptress with a figure as full as her personality, sighed in satisfaction. Her forest-green gown was cut low and highlighted a figure better suited to a Valkyrie than a mere mortal. Her husband sat next to her at Philippa’s impressive dinner table. Major General Beaufort Drake was a mountain of muscle and scars. His closely cropped hair glinted nearly white in the light cast from the two chandeliers hanging above them. Drake watched his wife with the smouldering gaze of a man who seemed more intent on savouring Millie than any dessert. A scar cut diagonally across his face, making once austere features quite savage. Millie didn’t seem to notice as he leaned close, whispering something in her ear that had her freckled skin flaming like a torch.
‘Beau!’
The dragon of a man let out a low chuckle, nearer to a growl than laughter, as she playfully slapped his arm.
‘Shall we retire to the parlour? Brandy, whiskey, port, and plotting are in order, I believe.’ Lady Hannah Killian, once Philippa’s ward and now the Duchess of Covington, placed her small hand on her husband’s much larger one. Lieutenant General Robert Killian was the perfect opposite of his best friend, Drake. Dark hair, fine features, and an athletic frame, which perfectly fit his tailored suit. But the same heated blend of love and desire Drake displayed when looking at Millie filled Killian’s gaze when he turned to Hannah.
‘An excellent suggestion, darling. If I can manage to stand after stuffing myself to bursting. Lady Philippa, you really must share your chef’s secrets.’
Philippa raised a signature brow at Lieutenant General Killian. ‘I have no desire to be poisoned, Killian. A fate sure to befall me if I betray the cook. Shall we?’ She stood, leading the way out of the dining room and pointedly avoided Olivia’s gaze.
Grand. I don’t want to look at you either. I might fly from my seat and attack if you give me the least provocation.
The idea sent satisfaction thrilling through Olivia, although she wasn’t sure if she would pummel Philippa or offer some quid pro quo for her earlier ministrations. Either way, it would be explosive.
Callum, who had seemed a bit overwhelmed at the grandeur of the dinner and its guests, excused himself from joining the others. Olivia gave him an understanding smile before he disappeared to his guest room. A small part of her wished she could slink away to the safety of her own bed, but battle plans wouldn’t make themselves.
‘How are you getting on?’ Lady Ivy Worthington sidled up to Olivia on their way to the parlour after giving her husband’s arm a gentle squeeze. Commissioner Edward Worthington’s face transformed from the serious leader of Scotland Yard to a smitten suitor as he watched Ivy glide across the floor, her arm entwined in Olivia’s.
‘I’ll feel better when we have a plan. I hate knowing that Cedric has Hyacinth.’
Ivy’s fair brow, a few shades lighter than Olivia’s, pulled down over crystal eyes. ‘Do you fear he’s mistreating her?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure she is being spoiled silly in his bid to gain her loyalty. Though I know he won’t hesitate to devise all manner of torture for her if I don’t comply with his requests. Hurting Hyacinth after gaining her trust is one more tool in his arsenal. He knows his betrayal will make whatever fate he plans for her even more devastating.’
Ivy shook her head, a silky strand of sleek hair escaping her simple twist. ‘Monster.’
Olivia nodded her agreement.
‘We will find a way forward, Olivia. I swear it. Philippa has defeated far worse foes than your brother, and we are all here to help.’
Olivia slipped her arm around Ivy’s lean waist and squeezed in gratitude as they entered the parlour. Philippa’s sharp gaze flicked to them, and Olivia noted the woman tighten.
