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Instinctively she knew being surrounded by books, she would be able to breathe, and perhaps the tight knot constricting her heart up to her throat would ease. Upon reaching the large oak door, polite habit insisted she knock, though it was quite unlikely anyone else would be in the library. When no voice called out, she eased the door open and slipped inside. The large room was awash with pale moonlight which painted half of the room in muted shades of silver and moonbeams. The embers in the large fireplace barely flickered. She strolled over to the wide-open windows, uncaring of the slight chill in the air.
The door opened, and she whirled around. She discerned the features of Nigel.
The shock had her stiffening.
“Pippa, my darling, I—”
“You followed me?”
He faltered at her sharp question. “I had to, my sweet, when I saw you tore up my note, I had to.”
“You will refer to me as Miss Cavanaugh, sir, nor will you come closer,” she snapped furiously when he made to advance further into the barely lit room.
He paused, and they stared at each other in tense silence. She so very badly wanted to demand he leave or slip through the windows herself to escape this confrontation. Pippa feared what his actions tonight meant, the ruination of all the dreams and hope which had been bubbling in her heart these several weeks. But she was not a coward, and she would not start acting like one now. The truth must be had, even if the pain of it broke her heart. “Why did you not seek an introduction or ask me for a dance? You pretended not to know me, as if we had no attachment."
She wasn’t sure if he flinched or if it was a trick of the light.
“Pippa—”
“Miss Cavanaugh,” she said, hating how husky with pain her voice sounded.
“I…I am to be married,” he finally said.
She stared uncomprehendingly for several moments before accepting he meant to someone else. That could indeed be his only meaning, but she had to ask, “To someone else?”
He raked his fingers through his light brown hair, creating a mess of what had been perfectly styled. “Yes. To Elinor Darwhimple.”
The shock that tore through Pippa rendered her to a marble. “It has been announced?”
“Not as yet. But we have an understanding, and the negotiations between our families are completed. The announcement will be sent to the newspapers tomorrow.”
She stared at him in muted hurt and disappointment, a desperate feeling of unreality creeping through her. Finally, her lips parted, and she said, “You said you wanted to marry me…you even told my mother…” she swayed, the ruined dreams settling on her shoulders like a boulder. “You said you loved me and wanted to marry me.”
He hurried forward to take her gloved hand in his. “And when I declared myself and asked for a kiss, you said you did not love me as yet,” he reminded her with sickening earnestness as if that would excuse his offensive conduct. “You did not return my sentiments in the way I had hoped, my darling. Surely you see that I was confused by your lack of ardor and encouragement.”
No…she hadn't loved him as yet, not in the way the poets described it, in the manner her mother still yearned for her father. But Pippa had liked and enjoyed all Nigel’s amiable qualities, had believed in his declared affections, and had believed love…the most passionate sort would inevitably follow. She was suddenly grateful that their skin made no contact and she hadn’t kissed him when he’d asked. He did not deserve such a privilege.
He had been so friendly and obliging, always seeking her company. Standing up to dance with her at the balls held at the town’s assembly hall. The citizens of Crandleforth had smelled a union on the air and had even started offering congratulations long before it had occurred to Pippa an attachment was forming. Nigel had no intention of declaring for her. He had merely been amusing himself with a flirtation. Perhaps even a seduction. The blackguard.
The sweet, amiable way they had bantered, the laughter, the dancing, and the curricle rides had meant nothing to him. “Every word from you was a lie,” she whispered. “I was honest with you, but you were only deceptive." And she had not seen through it! In the same manner, she had never seen that her father no longer loved her and mamma, and his heart had been wholly engaged elsewhere. How could she still be so naïve?
"Please do not doubt my sincerity or affections for you. I promise nothing will change, and I will still provide for you with a townhouse and a carriage with an allowance. I do not want to lose you, and you shan’t lose me my sweet,” he continued earnestly. “I vow it!”
Pippa felt faint. “You’ll provide me with…a carriage and an allowance…." Her voice ended, and she stared at him, distress beating through her veins. She might have spent the last few years in the country, but she had enough experience of how cruel the world could be to know he referred to offering her carte blanche. A mistress. “You think to establish me as your soiled dove?”
“Pippa, my darling—”
She pulled her hands from his. “You are a vile, disgusting pig! And I do feel as if I’ve insulted all the swine in the world by comparing a man such as yourself to them.”
This close she could see the flattening of his lips and the darkening of his brown eyes. A flush,
evident in the meager moonlight, reddened his jawline. “Pippa—”
Her disgust threatened to choke her. “You will leave my presence immediately, or I will scream. I am certain your soon-to-be fiancée and mother will not appreciate you being discovered in a compromising situation with the likes of me.”
A tic appeared in his jaw, and then he turned about and left the room. She hurried toward the door and closed it with a snick. A few minutes alone was required with no interruption. Her composure had to be gathered, the tears trembling on her lids suppressed before she braved the outside, and before she faced her mamma. How would she take the news?
Moving away from the door toward the window, Pippa faltered in the center of the library. A choked sob escaped her lips. How foolishly hopeful she had been. She stood there, hating the fact tears coursed down her cheeks. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips, drawing forth on the anger, preferring it to the stabbing pain in her heart. “The insufferable pig! That snake…blackguard…baboon!”
