Page 37 of The Work of Art

“Not at all,” Arthur assured her. “I’m at your service.”

Miss Satterthwaite appeared to be heartened by his words. She looked up at him, eyes peculiarly bright. “Might I enquire, sir, whether you still intend to depart for Somersetshire tomorrow?”

“Yes, I leave first thing in the morning.”

“Then, I would like to ask you—to beg you—to please take my dogs with you back to the country.”

Arthur blinked. “You want me to take your dogs?”

“Yes, I do. Very much. I noticed from the first time we met that they all took to you. Even Fox didn’t mind you touching him. Do you remember? They’d be very little trouble. Indeed, they would thrive in the countryside. And I know you wouldn’t be cruel to them, Captain Heywood, for I’ve seen how very kind you are.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Fox would have to remain in the house at night, for his injury requires warmth. The rest of the dogs would do quite well in the stable. Jasper and Dash are excellent ratters and Basil is the most fearsome guard dog you could ever want. If you would—”

“Miss Satterthwaite,” Arthur interrupted gently, “what has happened?”

Philly dashed the tears from her eyes with her hands, only to notice afterward that Captain Heywood was holding out his linen handkerchief to her. She took it gratefully. “My uncle says he will have them destroyed.” The admission brought on a small sob, which she tried her best to stifle. “It’s no idle threat. If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll have no compunction in carrying it out. He’s made that quite clear.”

Captain Heywood leaned closer to her, his posture oddly protective. “What’s brought this on? What is it that he expects you to do?”

She blotted her tears with his handkerchief and tried to collect herself. She’d only intended to talk to him about her dogs, but as she looked up at Arthur Heywood, his eyes were fixed on her with the same thoughtful expression they’d held so many times before. He was her only friend. If she couldn’t share her misfortune with him, with whom could she share it? She had no one else.

“Oh, Captain Heywood,” she said in a tearful whisper. “The Duke of Moreland made an offer of marriage for me yesterday. And when I would not have him—”

“You refused the Duke of Moreland?”

“I did, sir. I could never marry such a man. But he won’t countenance my refusal. He says… He says he’s bought me from my uncle. That he’s purchased me like any other work of art he would buy for his collection.”

“The devil he has!”

“I’m afraid he has, sir. His solicitor came and drew up the papers with my uncle. They spent two hours negotiating my price.” She raised his handkerchief once again to her face as she choked back a fresh sob. “I’ve discovered that my uncle has been behind the whole scheme. From the day he first met me in Fox Cross. He lied to me. Tricked me. All of the clothes and dancing lessons and everything else…it was never for the season. He meant to keep me isolated from everyone but the duke.”

As he listened to her, Captain Heywood fell silent.

That very silence, which appeared to be a sympathetic one, encouraged Philly to share more than she’d ever intended. Before she knew it, the entire story was pouring out. She held nothing back.

She told him about the duke’s behavior during the waltz at the Worthings’ ball, how he’d viciously struck his dog before taking her for a drive in the park, and how he’d loomed over her in the library just for the enjoyment of seeing her cringe. She told all the things he’d said to her, even those statements that caused her the deepest feminine mortification. Most painful of all, she revealed her uncle’s part in the whole affair, and how she’d been so deceived as to his true character.

While she spoke, Captain Heywood stared fixedly off into the distance, his expression unreadable. With every single sentence she uttered, he became more and more withdrawn.

“I suspect the only reason he allowed me to bring my dogs with me to London was so he might use them to force me into compliance,” Philly said. “If he knew me any better, he’d have realized that such threats would have quite the opposite effect. No sooner had he made them than I resolved to leave his house forever. I have every confidence I can find a position as a paid companion or perhaps even a governess. I intend to go to an agency this very day, but first I must see to the safety of my dogs. That’s why I wrote to you, Captain Heywood.”

Philly hadn’t initially noticed the captain’s inattention. However, as she came to the close of her tale and he still hadn’t said a single word, she began to realize that she’d been boring him, or even worse, offending him.

Whatever he’d wanted to know in the beginning, it was apparent she’d told him far too much. Perhaps she’d revealed more than she ought about Moreland’s behavior? It was surely not very ladylike to list out the flaws of one’s suitor, no matter how justified one’s complaints. She was just about to say as much, when he anticipated her.

“Miss Satterthwaite, your situation is an unfortunate one indeed, but as you can see, I’m in no position to do anything about it.” His voice had a sharp edge of bitterness to it.

She’d never heard him speak in such a tone. It immediately put her on her guard. “You misunderstand me, sir. I didn’t intend for you to do anything except for…well, I very much hope that you’ll take my dogs back with you to Somersetshire.”

“Moreland has grievously insulted you.”

“I shall be all right. As long as—”

“Townsend has, as well.”

She didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was behaving so strangely. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about any of that.”

“It does matter, Miss Satterthwaite. It matters to me, as a gentleman. And yet I can do absolutely nothing about it. I can barely walk, let alone challenge either of those men—”

“I would never want you to!” she objected, horrified at the thought. “I only wrote to you because of—”