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His mother’s nod of acknowledgement was regal, and her warm smile banished some of the tension from Phillipa’s body.
A sigh came from Anthony at a ruckus that sounded from the hallway. The door was flung open, and a young lady barreled into the room. She blazed in without decorum, running past Phillipa to fling herself at him for a hug. He grunted as if annoyed, but he returned her embrace, kissing her cheek.
“Oh, Anthony, he is bloody fabulous. I cannot believe he is all mine!”
“Constance!” Lady Radcliffe’s admonishment had her spinning around laughing.
Phillipa was stunned by Lady Constance’s beauty. She was a replica of Anthony’s blond looks, with his same sparkling green eyes. She possessed the petite body of her mother, except her curves were richly pronounced.
“Oh, Mother! Anthony has planned to gift me with a horse sired from Odin for my birthday, and I have just ridden him, though he won’t officially be mine for six more weeks. He is so divine, and I am so thrilled!”
“I see I will have to relieve the stable master of his duties,” Anthony drawled.
“Oh, rubbish. He could not very well refuse to answer when I demanded to know whose horse it is.”
“Lady Constance, may I present Miss Phillipa Peppiwell. Miss Peppiwell, my sister.”
Lady Constance’s energy whirled toward Phillipa, and she clapped enthusiastically. “Oh! A second gift! I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Peppiwell.”
Phillipa gazed at her with a slight frown. “As am I—”
“I do so hope you will teach me how to ride astride. Tongues have been wagging in the drawing rooms at your boldness, Miss Peppiwell. I think it’s grand, and you are very brave, indeed.”
“Well, I—” Phillipa winced at the appalled look Lady Radcliffe gave her daughter. Anthony looked on with a sort of brotherly indulgence, but she got the distinct feeling he would lock his sister up for a year if she actually dared to ride astride.
“Please ignore my daughter’s rudeness, Miss Peppiwell. She has yet to understand that a young lady does not behave in such a manner.”
Phillipa nodded blandly, refusing to rise to the implication that she was, therefore, clearly not a lady. She was quite used to such thoughtless statements, and far from being offended, was secretly pleased by the characterization.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of friendly chatter and preparation for travel. When Phillipa departed, Anthony placed a perfunctory kiss on her cheek that had his mother smiling. Whether from the kiss itself, or from his cool politeness, Phillipa wasn’t certain.
In any case, she steadfastly refused to beg a private audience with him, and bundled herself into the viscountess’s carriage without any further discussion of their relationship.
The trip to London was uneventful. Phillipa felt the palpable curiosity of Lady Constance and Lady Radcliffe, but instead of prying, they filled the journey with mild pleasantries and inane chatter about balls, mutual acquaintances, and the weather. Phillipa found herself liking them both very much. She answered their polite inquires about her family graciously, happy they confined their questions mainly to her sisters.
On the inside, her feelings were riotous. Anthony had not seemed angry, but he’d been distant with her, to the point of coldness. She clenched her hands on her lap, despising the uncertainty in her mind…and her heart. Had she made the right decision, refusing his offer?
What a tangle her life had suddenly become.
Phillipa was more than grateful for Lady Radcliffe’s aid in her current situation, and quietly told her so before facing her father. But as it turned out, her return home was without fanfare or the upset she had feared. Her aunt had received a note last night from the viscountess informing of Phillipa’s stay, so no one had worried. Rather than being distressed, Lady Merryweather was visibly pleased to know she’d spent the night at Lord Anthony’s home. After an hour of afternoon tea and lively conversation with her mother and aunt, the viscountess and Lady Constance departed.
Phillipa’s aunt wasted no time in pouncing on her. “This is wonderful news, Phillipa! Lord Anthony’s mother has taken quite a shine to you. You can expect his courtship to begin at once.”
“It will be in vain. I still do not wish to marry,” she assured her, wondering briefly at the lack of conviction in her voice.
“Nonsense,” her mother declared. “I have complete confidence that you will see the immense benefit to your father of connecting with such an esteemed family. Payton has also made a wonderful match, and I am very proud both my girls will be wed by next season. Payton will be the Lady Jenson St. John, and you Lady Anthony Thornton, and perhaps a duchess one day.”
Phillipa hated the tiny thrill that went through her at the idea of being Anthony’s lady. She prayed he had not really ended their association. She was not sure if that was what he’d done. But the pain that clawed through her heart at the mere possibility was almost unbearable.
She retired early, drained from the entire ordeal. She sank into slumber, resolved to determine if Anthony felt affection for her.
For she had finally cast aside her doubt, and admitted to herself that if he felt even a sliver of affection that could grow to love, she would marry him.
Her grandmother always said that any man who loved her, while he held her heart in the palm of his hands, she held his soul in the heart of hers, and he would give her all she desired.
Chapter Fourteen
Three days had passed since Phillipa departed Anthony’s estate with his mother and sister. And three endless nights. He was now visiting with Lady Jocelyn in Lincolnshire. It should have taken his mind from Phillipa, but seeing Lady Jocelyn again only reaffirmed Phillipa had ruined him for any other woman. Because he was still as tormented today as he’d been the first night.
Anthony asked himself for the fifth time why he was in the woods of Stone Haven hunting with Lady Jocelyn. Hunting. Another unorthodox female in his life. The second female he knew who rode so boldly astride without fear of society’s disapproval. She was now dressed in boy’s pants and was far too comfortable with her bow and arrow.
She smiled over her shoulder at him and he smiled back, following behind on his horse.
Seeing Lady Jocelyn was a whim he did not regret. It was a relief to know that his polite note had never been delivered to her. She still had the locket, and he’d seen the questions in her eyes, yet so far she’d asked him nothing. He wondered what she would say if he truly unburdened and told her of his illegitimacy and Phillipa’s rejection of his proposal.
Lady Jocelyn was glad to see him, but it was not the happiness of a missed lover. He doubted she even saw him as a man. Hell. How she looked at him actually reminded him of how his mother had been with the old duke. He’d never seen them kiss or even touch, never seen any passion or joy between them. He’d only seen his mother’s misery and the tears she’d thought she shed in secret.
Even so, if he ever wed Lady Jocelyn, he doubted they would have such a cold marriage. He liked her. Her fierceness he had never encountered in another woman, and her warmth was captivating. It was a pity he could not feel anything deeper for her, but at least they would have friendship, a thing many marriages lacked. Ironically, when he’d resolved to find a bride, the only requirement he’d really had was that they love each other. He scoffed. His brother may really be right. Love was an unrealistic ideal he was chasing.
“Shhh, my lord.” She smiled and pressed a finger to her lips. “You are being too noisy. We are going to scare them away.”
His eyes slid over the curve of her rump so clearly outlined in her tightly fitting breeches. He shook his head, disappointed when nothing stirred within him.
“You seem distracted today,” she remarked.
He grimaced. “I do have some unresolved issues in London. Forgive me.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked with a warm smile.
“I do not.” He smiled to remove the sting. “My visit was m
eant to clear my head of my troubles. Tell me of the irrigation system you want to implement here at Stone Haven.”
The restoration of her home, a topic dear to her, had the desired effect, and with dizzying animation she launched into her dreams for her home.
They dismounted and walked through the woods while chatting softly, and he cursed his mind for constantly turning to Phillipa.
Lady Jocelyn frowned at his inattentiveness. “Are you certain you do not wish to speak of your troubles, my lord?”
“Thank you for your concern, but I am certain.”
There was a rustle and she placed a finger to her lips for silence and crept steadily ahead, bow and arrow angled skillfully. He watched her as she raised her bow in perfect position and sighted the hare. But the arrow missed.
“Bloody hell!”
And she also cursed. He smiled at her scrunched face.
“I am not in fit shape today, Lord Anthony. I think we must leave hunting for another day,” she said on a laugh, tucking her bow away.
They exited the woods and swung onto their horses.
Lady Jocelyn glanced at him. “Are you here for the locket, my lord?”
