Page 56 of The Work of Art

Arthur couldn’t sleep after Philly left his room. Instead, he dressed and went downstairs to the library. He tried to keep himself busy—so busy that he wouldn’t have a single spare moment to reflect on what he’d done to her. But even after hours spent with his land steward dealing with the tedious minutiae of estate business, he couldn’t stop going over it in his mind.

Nightmares had been a common occurrence when he first returned from Spain. As the years passed, they came with less frequency, but they’d never completely ceased. Every few weeks he would dream the same nightmare anew, waking in a cold sweat as memories of the aftermath of his last battle returned to plague him.

The nightmare was vivid, but Arthur had never thought himself capable of hurting anyone because of it, least of all Philly. If he’d known there was even the smallest chance he might do so, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall asleep beside her. Indeed, he wouldn’t have made love to her. He’d have kept as far away from her as he could. Anything to keep her out of danger.

What might have happened if he hadn’t awakened when he did? If he’d remained lost in his nightmare for one moment longer? She was so small and fragile. He was sure he’d have killed her. That he hadn’t done so was the merest chance.

Philly didn’t yet appreciate the full implications of what he’d done. Not yet. But how long would it be before she began to regret having married him? How long before she grew to hate him?

The whole predicament was the result of his own selfishness. And it was selfishness. He could call it nothing else. Marriage had surely not been the only way to keep Philly safe from Moreland, yet he’d rushed her into marrying him, promising her that it would be a marriage in name only.

A promise he’d broken rather spectacularly last night.

He propped his head in his hands, reflecting on the experience with a dull ache in his heart.

By the time Pebmarsh left, it was midafternoon. Arthur’s guilt over what he’d done to Philly on their wedding night was now compounded by guilt over having left her alone for the better part of the day. It seemed he could do nothing right where his new bride was concerned.

He reached for his cane. His leg was more painful than it had been in London. After the fifteen-hour carriage drive yesterday, it was no wonder. He hadn’t helped matters by sitting half the day away at his desk.

With an effort, he rose and went out into the main hall. Two maids hurried by with mops and buckets. Their aprons were dirty and their hair disheveled. When they saw him, they stopped and bobbed awkward curtsies. He didn’t know either of them by name.

“Is Mrs. Heywood about?” he asked.

“She went down to the kitchens with Mrs. Lamb, about an hour ago, sir,” the taller maid answered.

“And then she were going outside, sir. For a walk with her dogs,” the smaller maid added.

Arthur turned and walked down the hall, leaning heavily on his cane. It was going to be difficult to keep track of Philly in a house this size. And with his leg giving him more trouble than it normally did, he was in no fit state to traipse all over the grounds looking for her.

Yet another reason he should have made some effort to see her at breakfast. He might have learned how she planned to spend her day, and then he wouldn’t have had to ask the servants where she was and what she’d been doing.

He made his way outside, conscious of how uneven his gait was as he walked across the grounds. It did nothing to improve his mood.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to go any farther than the stable yard. Basil, Jasper, and Dash were lazing in the sunshine outside the entrance to the north stable block. When they spotted him, their tails thumped slowly, but none of them made even the smallest attempt to get up. Their commitment to remaining by the plank doors that led into the stables was all the confirmation Arthur needed that Philly was inside.

He entered to find her leaning against one of the loose boxes, petting the muzzle of Hyperion, his giant blood bay stallion.

Arthur’s heart contracted in his chest at the sight of her.

She was standing up on the toes of her scuffed brown half boots, one arm resting on the edge of the box, and the other stretched out to Hyperion as she murmured something to him that Arthur couldn’t make out.

The thin material of her gown hung softly on the curves of her body. It was surely no more revealing a dress than any of the other modest muslins he’d seen Philly wear, but after their night together it might as well have been transparent. He knew the feel of her now. And as his eyes drifted over her, warmth infiltrated his veins for the first time all day.

Until his gaze came to the slender column of her throat.

There were no bruises, and the red impressions left by his fingers had gone. It did nothing to assuage his guilt. His gut still wrenched with self-recrimination.

Where could their marriage possibly go after such an event? They could never share a bed again, he was sure of that much. What then? Would they revert to their original arrangement? Would theirs be a marriage in name only after all?

His thoughts were thus occupied when Philly glanced in his direction. Her cheeks flooded with color. “Arthur! I thought you were still in the library.”

“I’ve finished with Pebmarsh for the day.” He came to stand beside her, absently reaching up to stroke Hyperion on the neck. He debated reaching out to Philly instead, but after how their night together had ended, it didn’t feel right to take such a liberty with her. He wondered if it ever would again. “I regret I was engaged with him for so long.”

“Estate business must be very tiring.”

“No, I—” He turned his full attention on Philly, only to discover that she was more focused on his horse than she was on him. “What I meant to say was that I regret I was so long away from you.”

“You need have no regrets on my account.” She held out the flat of her palm to Hyperion and let him nuzzle it. “I’ve managed to keep myself occupied all morning. As a matter of fact, this is the first time I’ve been at my leisure. I was going to take the dogs for a run in the woods, but I’ve been waylaid admiring your beautiful horse.”