Page 23 of The Work of Art

Philly tugged on her gloves and her bonnet without a word.

They all walked out together with the dogs surrounding Philly, and Sara trailing behind. Philly glanced only once at the maid. Sara swiftly looked away, her cheeks splotched with red.

Her expression told Philly all she needed to know.

Sara must have mentioned Captain Heywood to Mrs. Vale. It had been clear the maid hadn’t approved of Philly’s visits with him, no matter how short or well chaperoned.

Disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to talk to Captain Heywood by herself today, Philly directed her attention to her dogs as they walked the familiar path into the park. She fully expected to see him on the bench waiting to greet her.

He wasn’t there.

She tried not to look too crestfallen lest Sara notice and realize the reason.

Perhaps he’d forgotten her suggestion, and was, even now, waiting on the same bench he’d been on yesterday? With renewed hope, she walked on with her cousins. “Shall we go that way?”

“You always walk that way, Phyllida,” Elizabeth complained. “You’re so dull in your habits. We shall go by the lake. I see two gentlemen there.”

“I can’t set the dogs loose by the lake,” Philly said. “There are far too many people. But just down that path there’s a perfect spot.”

“I like the path you walk on Phyllida,” Abigail said. “It’s so private. We’re not likely to run into another soul.”

“I’d think it would be rather nice to run into another soul,” Elizabeth retorted. “Why, I heard that Mr. Goodrich often walks in the park.”

Mr. Goodrich was another of her uncle’s business associates. A young gentleman of fortune, or so Philly understood.

“Aunt Vale says I’ll sit next to him at dinner this evening.” Abigail twirled her parasol. “She says I’ll have Lord Darly on one side and Mr. Goodrich on the other.”

Elizabeth scowled. “Fustian. She told me the very same thing. It’s not possible for us both to sit between them.”

Philly looked up ahead, certain she’d see Captain Heywood. The bench stood empty. Her heart sank like a stone in her chest.

He hadn’t come.

She felt a fool to have expected he would. He was a gentleman with many responsibilities. It would be a waste of his time to come into the park every day.

And even if he had come, it wasn’t as if she could have sat and talked with him. She had her cousins with her. There would have been no privacy. No opportunity to speak to him as a friend.

“I expect you’ll be between Lord Edgeworth and Captain Heywood, Phyllida,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “That should be to your liking. You find Captain Heywood amiable enough.”

“Yes, I do,” Philly said. “He seems a very nice gentleman.”

“Rubbish. You haven’t yet met him at a ball or a party. Just wait until he comes tonight. You’ll see how unpleasant he is. Why, he’ll not speak to you throughout the entire meal.”

“Lord Edgeworth won’t, either,” Abigail informed her. “He thinks it beneath him to address young ladies. He rarely even speaks to his own wife.”

“I suppose then that I will eat my dinner in utter silence.” Philly smiled slightly. “Or perhaps I shall occupy myself listening to the scintillating conversations that the two of you will be having with your seatmates?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “You may well laugh, Phyllida, but ’tis a fact that Lord Darly and I have much in common. He adores the musicals at Drury Lane and declares he loves nothing better than a game of loo.”

“I asked Papa if the duke might not come,” Abigail said, “but he says the dinner is only for his investors.”

“Has the duke dined at your house before?” Philly asked.

“No. But he may yet, now he’s courting you.”

Courting me, Philly thought bleakly. She walked along in silence for a few moments. “Mrs. Vale has told me the duke was married before,” she said at length. “Did either of you know his last wife?”

Abigail exchanged a fleeting glance with her sister.