Page 65 of The Work of Art

He’d been walking with Philly at least once a day, and though they weren’t long walks, he couldn’t deny that the outings had been beneficial. The fresh air and sunshine had helped his mood, and the exercise had been working a gradual improvement on his uneven gait and the pain in his leg. But it wasn’t the fresh air and exercise alone that was affecting an improvement.

It was proximity to Philly.

Many times in the past two weeks, he’d been reminded of the hairpin he’d removed from her hair the night of Townsend’s dinner party. He’d thought then that she had the ability to make everything around her better than it was, and he hadn’t been mistaken.

It was a strange phenomenon and one he didn’t fully understand, but he was experiencing it for himself now.

Since Philly had come to live with him, things had begun to change. It was nothing drastic, indeed much of the effect she had was very probably unintentional, yet he felt it as surely as he felt the improvement in his leg.

She managed Heywood House skillfully, and by her mere presence made it feel like a home. But it was more than that. It was the way she looked across the table from him during their meals. It was the way she sat so gracefully in their drawing room as she engaged in her needlework. And it was the knowledge each night as he went to sleep that she was in the bedroom beside him doing the same—even if he wouldn’t allow himself the privilege of joining her there.

One day, as he was coming out from meeting with Pebmarsh, he’d seen several footmen hauling a metal tub up the stairs so Philly could have her bath. Another day, he’d come upon her as she practiced the pianoforte and heard her softly singing to herself. And during a quiet evening, when he’d enquired after her sewing, she’d held up a scrap of fabric so Arthur might examine her handiwork, and he’d realized, with a painful tightening in his chest, that she was mending one of his cravats.

Her feminine presence was quiet and subtle, but it was there, and Arthur felt it profoundly.

He’d been raised in a house without women. His mother had succumbed to childbed fever shortly after he was born, and the earl had never remarried. There were female servants, of course, and occasionally an old aunt would come to stay, but it was nothing like the consistent presence of an elegant lady in the house. He hadn’t realized how much he desired such a thing until Philly had come.

“The weather is very fine,” she remarked as they entered the stable yard. “I thought we might walk to the old apple orchard later this afternoon.”

“You may yet change your mind about how you wish to spend the rest of your day,” he said.

“I don’t think so, but if you’d like to do something else…” Her words trailed off.

The head groom, Mr. Greene, stood in the stable yard holding the halter of a large, dark bay mare. She was heavily boned, with a broad back, and a decidedly stubborn glint in her liquid brown eyes. At their approach, she let forth an earsplitting whinny of recognition.

Philly stared at the mare for several seconds, uncomprehending, before she dropped Arthur’s arm and flew to her side. She cradled the mare’s giant head in her arms. Even from a distance, Arthur could hear her soft voice saying, “Oh, Persy!”

A deep sense of satisfaction coursed through him. It mattered little that Philly had temporarily forgotten his existence. He’d been anticipating her reaction to her horse’s arrival for the past week, and had hoped for just such a joyful response.

He wasn’t the only one watching Philly. Several of the grooms and a few of the house servants stopped to stare, as well. Was there no work for them to do? Or were they hanging about in hopes of gathering more gossip to pass around the servants’ hall? He was just on the verge of losing his temper when Philly left her mare’s side and made her way back across the stable yard.

She came to a halt in front of him, so close that she had to tilt her head back in order to meet his gaze. “How?”

Arthur looked down at her. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. The entire front of her pretty French frock was now streaked with dirt. “I arranged for her purchase through my solicitor the day before we were married.”

“Just like you did with all of my clothes?”

“Yes.”

“But my uncle—”

“You need have no worry about Townsend. Everything was handled with the utmost discretion.”

She stepped even closer to him. Her voice dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was no way of knowing if the purchase would be successful. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Not about something you hold so dear.”

Without warning, she stood up on the toes of her delicate kid slippers, and with a little leap, threw her arms around his neck. “You’ve never disappointed me, Arthur. And I know you never shall.”

Arthur’s left arm closed around her waist. And suddenly, it no longer mattered that the servants were staring. He turned his face into her hair, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of her. “After how appealing you made your mare sound at your uncle’s dinner party, I worried that Edgeworth might decide to buy her for his own.” He felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she pressed her silken cheek to his. “I couldn’t allow such a fate to be inflicted on any living creature.”

“Was that your motivation, then? To thwart Lord Edgeworth?”

“What else would it be?”

Philly drew back just enough to see his face, and then, right there in the stable yard, in front of Greene and all the other servants, she kissed him full on the mouth.

Arthur was thunderstruck, reflexively tightening his arm around her as she pressed her soft lips to his. He bent his head to return her kiss, but had only the briefest of moments to respond before she pulled away from him.