But it would also mean exposing Lydia. Answering questions about where she'd been, why she'd hidden, what her husband had done to her. Questions she feared Lydia was not ready to face.
Philippa went to her writing desk and sat down. She pulled out a sheet of paper, dipped her pen, and stared unseeingly at the blank page.
She couldn't tell Sebastian. Not yet.
Besides, if she handed him absolution now, he'd use it as another excuse—he'd tell himself he was only free to love Estella because the guilt had been lifted, not because he'd chosen to set it down.
No. He had to make that choice first. He had to earn it. Because even though Lydia had survived, Andrew had not. And that was a fact Lord Blackwood would have to deal with.
But perhaps… Perhaps she could begin to lay the groundwork. A conversation with her solicitor. A carefully worded inquiry. Not for Sebastian's sake, but for Lydia's. Because if the truth was ever going to come out, it needed to come out safely. And that required preparation.
She began to write.
Dear Mr. Hartwell,
I require your assistance in a matter of some delicacy…
She paused and then dipped her head to finish the missive.
The truth about the fire would come out eventually. Philippa would make certain of that. But it would come out on her terms, and in a way that protected the people she loved.
She sealed the letter and rang for a servant.
19
Vauxhall Gardens was, in Estella's considered opinion, an assault on the senses.
Thousands of oil lamps hung from the trees in glittering rows, turning the Grand Walk into a corridor of gold. Music drifted from the orchestra pavilion, bright and soaring, and it mingled with laughter and the clink of glasses from the supper boxes.
The air smelled of roasted ham, damp earth, and the faintest trace of gunpowder from the fireworks being prepared somewhere beyond the tree line.
It was beautiful. But more than a little overwhelming. Truthfully, Estella was having a difficult time appreciating any of it, because approximately ninety percent of her attention was fixed on the tall, dark-haired man standing fifty feet away who was doing an excellent impression of a man who hadn't noticed her arrival.
But Sebastian had clocked her arrival, she was absolutely sure of it.
The question was, did his feigned ignorance indicate he had feelings for her or did he not? For all Thea’s talk about hypotheses and controlled experiments, the reality was far more difficult to decipher.
For example, at this precise moment, Sebastian stood near one of the supper boxes the duchess had secured, speaking with a gentleman Estella didn't recognize. His posture was rigid, his expression forbidding, and his gaze was aimed with great deliberation at a point roughly six inches to the left of where Estella was standing.
She knew this because she was watching him in the same determined way that he was not watching her.
"You're staring, dear." Thea appeared at her elbow with two glasses of arrack punch. She pressed one into Estella's hand.
"I'm observing, like you told me to." Estella took the glass. "There's a difference."
"Is there? You've been observing him since the carriage pulled up. Your neck is going to cramp."
Estella dragged her gaze away and took a sip of the punch. It was sweeter than she'd expected, with a tartness underneath that made her nose wrinkle. "Where's the duchess?"
"Holding court in the supper box. She's been introduced to a baroness who breeds spaniels, and I believe they may never stop talking." Thea glanced across the walk. "Mr. Gage is here."
Estella followed Thea's gaze. Sure enough, the gaming hell proprietor was leaning against a tree some distance away, speaking with friends, and looking thoroughly at ease. He caught them looking and raised his glass with that crooked grin of his.
"Miss Hale!" Lord Alderton approached with a broad smile that felt far less wicked than Mr. Gage’s.
Lord Alderton looked as pleasant and well-groomed as he always did as he gave a small bow. "What a fine evening. The Gardens are quite spectacular, are they not?"
"They are indeed." Estella smiled at him, and the smile was genuine. She liked Lord Alderton. That had never been the problem.
