Their union would mean more than titles and heirs. Faircliffe aligning himself with Philippa’s important MP father would help both men be better able to enact the exact laws Chloe had been praying to see unfold beneath the stuffy Westminster attic. If anything, she should be the Faircliffe-York union’s biggest champion.
In fact, shewouldbe.
That was what an impartial observer who wanted the best outcome for the greatest number of individuals would do, wasn’t it?
What didfeelingshave to do with anything?
When the music ended, Faircliffe and Southerby walked away together, their heads bent in conversation.
Chloe rolled back her shoulders and turned to Philippa. “You should marry him.”
Philippa did not pretend to misunderstand; nor did she appear pleased with the unsolicited advice. “You know me well enough to know which specific person I should spend the rest of my life with?”
Chloe paused. Together as allies, Lawrence and Philippa’s father could make great strides in the reforms Chloe had been fighting for. Doing it for the orphans and workhouses seemed more than enough reason to her, but perhaps not to the beau monde.
Philippa sighed. “If it will take the bee out of your bonnet, you may be pleased to know that my parents have threatened to burn my bookcases if I don’t accept Faircliffe’s suit.”
“He offered?” The words came out as a whisper. The parquet seemed to tilt.
“Not yet.” Philippa twisted her lips. “He seems to be waiting for me to give him a sign of encouragement first.”
Chloe frowned. “Is that a bad trait?”
“It’s an admirable trait. He’s splendid, a dukedom would be splendid, the whole thing is splendid.”
Philippa did not make any of it sound splendid.
“But I’ll do it,” she said dully. “Mother wants a title for her only child, Father wants more hooks in the House of Lords, and Faircliffe wants my dowry. He admitted as much.”
Chloe winced. Although her spirits leapt at confirmation that the union was practical, rather than a love match, she would not wish anyone into a life of misery.
“What doyouwant?” she asked.
“To escape.” Philippa’s steady gaze met hers. “I suppose Faircliffe is my chance.”
Chloe swallowed. She well remembered the panicked desperation to escape her old life—and the blessed relief of finding sanctuary at last.
She could not stand in the way.
16
Lawrence stood off to the side with his butler as men from Christie’s auction house carried the last of the expensive carpets out of the door. The spring weather had brought an overabundance of rain. Several of his tenants needed new roofs more than Lawrence needed his grandfather’s carpets.
Once the men had gone, Hastings handed Lawrence his hat. “Off to woo a bride, Your Grace?”
Hastings knew perfectly well Lawrence was headed to Miss York’s town house in hopes of catching the reading circle. The butler’s wording seemed to imply there was some doubt about who the bride would be.
“I’m off to see Miss York,” Lawrence said firmly.
His butler politely refrained from pointing out that if seeing Miss York was Lawrence’sonlyaim, a private call without her reading circle present might be more romantic.
Very well, the company Lawrence yearned for was Miss Wynchester’s.
After their practice supper, all he could think of was their kiss. After their brief moments together in the country-dance, all he wanted was her back in his arms.
He could not have her. Not her kisses, not her humor, not their lively conversations. But he could glimpse her, secretly. Be closer in proximity, even if her body was not his to touch. He had the memory.
It would have to be enough.
