Page 92 of The Work of Art

“She can’t be so very despicable. You were engaged to her, were you not? You must have cared for her once.” Caught in his grasp, Philly could no longer blot her tears. They slid down her face unchecked. “Perhaps you care for her still? Perhaps that’s why you’ve never said that you love me.”

“Damnation, Philly, you’re upset beyond reason.”

“I assure you, sir, I’ve been thinking on this quite rationally all day long.” She attempted to pull away from him.

Arthur held her fast. “Look at me.” He moved his hands to her upper arms, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh. He gave her a little shake. “Look at me.”

She reluctantly raised her eyes to his.

“I showed you that you were my love our first night together, and I’ve affirmed it every day since. It’s in everything I do for you. Every look and every touch. I may not have said the words—God knows why. Some ridiculous desire not to render myself vulnerable, I daresay. But it was never because I didn’t feel it. I feel it too damned much. There are days when I think I’ll run mad from it.” His gaze held hers. “I never loved Caroline Eliot. I’ve never loved any woman in the world but you.”

Tears clung to Philly’s dark lashes. She blinked them away. “Then why…?”

“It’s true Lady Eliot was at the jeweler in Bond Street. But not with me. She came in with Forsythe after I’d already purchased your wedding ring. The jeweler was showing me the matching earrings. Lady Eliot and Forsythe spoke to me at the counter. She picked up one of the earrings and tried it on of her own accord. I left without buying them. I’d never give you something that had been worn by that viper. If she has those earrings now, she’s bought them for herself or manipulated some fool into buying them for her.”

He loosened his hold on Philly’s arms. When she didn’t pull away, he removed his hands completely so he could reach into his waistcoat and retrieve a clean handkerchief. He offered it to her and she took it without a word. “After I left the jeweler’s, she must have asked the proprietor what I’d purchased. I’m sure she’s been waiting to challenge you with that bit of information since first she learned it. No doubt it’s the very reason she arranged for your cousins to be invited to the house party at Melton Abbey. It gave her the perfect excuse to call here and make trouble.” He watched as Philly dried her tears. “As for all the rest…my engagement to her and her having stayed here at Heywood House—”

“Please don’t. I can’t bear to hear it.”

“By God, Philly, I’ve never taken that woman to my bed. We’ve never shared so much as a lingering look.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is my own fault. I should have told you the truth the day I proposed. But I wanted you to trust me. I didn’t want to scare you away with stories about my older brother.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Your brother?”

“George Heywood, Viscount Carlisle. I assume you’ve heard something of him?”

She nodded. “My cousins said he was a rake.”

“My brother would make your average rake look like a vicar. He preys upon women for his own amusement, and when he becomes bored, he discards them. Married women, shopkeepers’ daughters, governesses, opera dancers. There are no females safe from him.” His expression softened. “You needn’t look so worried. He doesn’t force himself on anyone. They all go to him willingly enough. He’s rich, titled, and considered uncommonly handsome. He’s thoroughly dissolute now, but for a long time, he did behave as a gentleman in his own way. He made it a rule never to involve himself with young virgins on the marriage mart.” A bitter smile edged the corner of Arthur’s mouth. “Until the season that Caroline Battersby made her debut.”

“You don’t mean to say that your brother and Lady Eliot—”

“Oh, yes. They had quite a torrid affair. They met at house parties, and at my brother’s townhouse in London, and through the assistance of Lady Eustace—a woman who’s just as immoral as Lady Eliot herself—they even managed to meet each other on holiday in Bath. I’m assuming it was during their trip to Somersetshire that my brother availed himself of Heywood House. I was in Canterbury then, with my regiment, but Pebmarsh would be able to confirm it.”

“Lady Eliot wasn’t here with you at all?” Philly’s face lit with guarded hope. “She was here with your brother?”

The tension within Arthur slowly began to unknot. “It wasn’t unusual for my brother or father to make use of Heywood House whenever I was away with my regiment, and George wouldn’t have scrupled to bring one of his mistresses here. When I returned from Canterbury, his affair with Caroline Battersby was at an end. She and her chaperone—an old maiden aunt who was determined to put her up to the highest bidder—had expected that if my brother compromised her, he’d be honor bound to make her an offer of marriage. Instead he left for his estate in Ireland with his latest paramour. Caroline wrote him letters to no avail. When she couldn’t contact my brother, she came to me. She told me she was with child.”

“With child! But surely not?”

“My father and I had no knowledge of her true character then. We believed her when she said she was carrying George’s child. Naturally, my brother claimed she was lying, but considering his past behavior, we could hardly take his word.” Arthur exhaled. “I was set to leave for the Peninsula. I didn’t expect to return alive. It was the most honorable thing to do to offer marriage to her before I left. My father agreed. It would give the child a name, at least.” He grimaced at the memory. “By the time I departed for Portugal, it was apparent that she wasn’t with child. That it had all been a ruse to trap my brother.”

“What about your engagement?”

“I considered it at an end, but I heard in letters from my father that she continued to tell people we were set to marry. I probably would have gone through with it, but thankfully, while I was lying in hospital at Lisbon, Caroline Battersby married Baron Eliot. I didn’t see her again until two months ago in Bond Street.”

Philly looked down at her handkerchief for a long while. When she raised her face to him again, her brows were drawn together, her mouth tugged down into a pensive frown. “I met her at the Worthings’ ball.”

He blinked. “Did you?”

“She asked to be introduced to me. She wasn’t very kind, but I thought… She was so beautiful and…she was the most sophisticated woman I’d ever seen. I remember looking at her and saying to myself, This is the woman who has Captain Heywood’s heart.”

“She never had my heart,” he said gruffly. “No one has ever had my heart but you.”

“Oh, Arthur.” She leaned toward him.

The movement was hardly discernable. It might not even have been purposefully done. But Arthur needed no other encouragement to reach for her. In one breathless motion, he closed her in an unyielding embrace, pulling her from her chair and straight into his lap.

Philly put her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. “I love you so much. I can’t bear to think of you with anyone else.”