Page 91 of The Work of Art

He sat down in the chair opposite, leaning toward her until only inches remained between them. “Won’t you look at me?”

She hesitated before slowly lifting her eyes to his. Her heart gave a traitorous thump. He was unutterably handsome—inherently masculine in that soldierly way of his. His broad shoulders filled out the topline of his black dress coat, and his long legs framed her own.

Concern etched his stern features. “You’ve been crying.” He reached out to take her hands in his.

She stiffened at his touch, instinctively drawing away from him.

Arthur’s hurt and alarm at her rejection were palpable. She’d never before recoiled from his touch. “What is it, Philly? What’s upset you? Was it your cousins’ visit?”

She stared down at her hands, remaining silent for some time before finally raising her eyes back to his. “It wasn’t my cousins. It was something else.”

His face went cold with anger. “Something else, or someone else?”

“Lady Eliot.”

He searched her face. “Not Darly or Forsythe, then?”

“Lord Darly and Mr. Forsythe did nothing to make me cry, if that’s what you mean.”

Fox struggled from his place on her lap. Before she could help him down, Arthur lifted the little dog from her arms, setting him gently on the carpet.

“What has Lady Eliot done to make you cry?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Philly answered truthfully. “I’m crying because of you.”

Arthur stared at Philly, imagining all of the reasons she might be upset with him. He’d restricted her walks and her riding. He’d confined her. Kept things from her. Set the servants to watch her.

“Arthur, do you remember how I answered the first time you asked me to marry you?”

“You refused me.”

“Do you remember why I refused you?”

“You believed I was in love with Caroline Eliot.” He almost smiled at how ridiculous the idea of it was, but something in Philly’s eyes stopped him.

“Please tell me the truth.” Her voice quavered. “When you left the park that morning…when you went to the jeweler to buy my wedding band…” She swallowed. “Was Lady Eliot there with you?”

Arthur’s expression hardened, the beginnings of a cold rage seeping into his veins. Curse and confound the woman! Is that what she’d told Philly? That he’d taken her with him to choose Philly’s wedding band? “Whatever she’s said to you—”

“Yes or no. It’s a simple enough question.”

He clenched one hand. “Yes, she was there, but—”

“I could almost forgive her having come here to Heywood House.” Philly blotted away a fresh flood of tears. “Perhaps even for all the times she slept here with you in my bed—”

“The devil you say!”

“She described my room to me. She knew everything about Heywood House.” Philly dashed away a few more tears with trembling fingers. “I’ve no right to be upset about that, I know, for it was before we married, but that you went to her the day I accepted your p-proposal. And took her to choose the w-wedding band that you gave to me. And had her try on the m-matching earrings.”

Arthur’s gut twisted with anguish to see Philly so distressed. “It wasn’t like that. If you’d only listen to me—”

“Do you deny that you made a present to her of those earrings?”

“Good God, is that what she told you?”

“You’ve broken my heart, but perhaps, if I weren’t such a naïve little fool—”

“Enough.” He reached for her hands. This time he didn’t give her a chance to pull away. He took hold of her with an iron grip, his eyes locking interminably with hers. “That woman…that creature…has the morals of a common—”