Page 95 of The Work of Art

“No, indeed you would not, ma’am,” Philly said gently. “For my husband severed your engagement before he left for the Peninsula.”

Lady Eliot’s laughter died away. She stared at Philly in ill-disguised astonishment.

“I’m sure it was a balm to your injured pride to have everyone believe that my husband was devotedly in love with you. That you’d broken his heart and he was pining away for you here in the country. Perhaps having your name forever linked with his even alleviated some of the gossip and ridicule over your scandalous behavior with Lord Carlisle? Whatever the logic behind it, you must know it was dreadfully unkind of you and Lady Eustace to spread such lies. Especially after my husband behaved so honorably toward you.”

Lady Eliot’s alabaster skin mottled with splotches of red. “Oh, yes, Captain Heywood has a surfeit of honor. He’s positively brimming with it.” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “But if you think he’s a good man, you’re mistaken. He’s heartless and cold-blooded. Everybody knows it. Do you expect me to be grateful to him that he once condescended to save my reputation with his toplofty proposal? I never cared a snap of my fingers for my reputation. Carlisle could have taken me without benefit of marriage. You wouldn’t understand that sort of love, would you? But then, you have married a man with ice in his veins.”

Philly ignored her outburst. “You’re hurt. No, don’t scoff. I can see that you are. But it’s no reason to attempt to cause trouble in my marriage. I’m not the one who hurt you, and whether you are pleased to admit it or not, neither is my husband.”

Lady Eliot made a disparaging noise. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to cause trouble in anyone’s marriage, Mrs. Heywood. If you and your husband are at odds, it has nothing to do—”

“I see you’ve worn the ruby earrings you mentioned,” Philly interrupted. “They’re very lovely, though—if I may point out—not quite suitable for the daytime. Why did you wear them here today? Did you hope to upset me? To make me believe something that isn’t true?”

“I’ve said nothing to you that wasn’t the truth.”

“You’ve said many things, and implied a great deal more. I don’t require you to issue a retraction. It would hardly be possible at this late date, and I’ve no wish to humiliate you further. I believe that if you simply cease contributing to the gossip about my husband, it will die down all on its own.”

Lady Eliot opened her mouth to speak and then shut it.

“You’ll understand that I cannot receive you again.” Philly resumed walking down the stairs. “This is probably the last time we shall ever meet.”

Lady Eliot followed after Philly in a rush of white sarsnet. “How dare you? To speak to me in this manner? To refuse me admission to your home as if I were no better than a common—”

Philly stopped abruptly only a few steps from the hall. “You’re mistaken. I’m not judging you.”

“Then it’s your husband who forbids my coming here? Or is it the Earl of Gordon himself? He has a bloody nerve. Do you know that Lord Gordon put it about that my chaperone during my come-out was no better than an abbess? That I was a fortune-hunting adventuress who sought to trap his heir? They all behaved as if I were the one who had done wrong. Me! A green girl not much older than your cork-brained little cousin. When all the while it was Carlisle who sought me out—”

“He treated you very badly,” Philly said again.

Lady Eliot’s eyes blazed. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have my pity. You have my understanding.”

“Understanding!” She laughed bitterly.

“Yes. For what’s past, you have my understanding. But the lies and the gossip can’t continue. All of that must end today.” Philly took the final steps down to the main hall, sensing Lady Eliot close on her heels.

“—horses are pure white to match the curricle,” Abigail was in midsentence, gesturing to the front doors, outside of which was parked Lady Eliot’s stylish new carriage.

Lady Eliot visibly collected herself. “Wait until you see my tiger,” she said in an artificially light voice as she strode up to join them. “I’ve had a suit made for him of silver-threaded cloth trimmed with lace. He looks an absolute macaroni. I vow you’ve never seen the like.”

Abigail led the way out the front doors of Heywood House, rushing down the steps to Lady Eliot’s curricle, which was attended by her woebegone little tiger. The rest of the ladies followed.

“It’s quite fashionable, I’m sure,” Mrs. Ogilvy said.

“The very height of fashion,” Abigail agreed.

While her cousin was assisted up into the curricle, Philly turned back to Caroline Eliot. She wasn’t surprised to see the lady’s eyes were still upon her.

Without hesitation, Philly extended her hand.

Lady Eliot started, her cold expression momentarily disrupted by confusion. She recovered herself quickly, her dark eyes appraising Philly’s outstretched hand with characteristic coolness.

Taut seconds passed.

And then, quite suddenly, Lady Eliot moved to clasp Philly’s hand in hers. “I shan’t apologize to you.”

“I didn’t expect that you would,” Philly replied. “But I wish you happy all the same.”