Page 14 of Her Unsuitable Match

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, and Philippa leaned forward in her seat. “What can be done, Mr. Tuttle-Kirk? I should like my independence from my brother and my mother, but until those funds are released, my brother is legally keeping me bound to him and his wishes.”

“And what are his wishes, Lady Philippa?” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk leaned forward, too, his eyes searching hers. “I should think he would have no reason to, if you’ll pardon the phrase, lord over you as he does. Unless he has a purpose for your future which you do not share.”

“He wants me to marry.” Philippa sat back again, looking away from the kind solicitor’s puzzled frown. “Specifically, he would like me to marry one of his cronies. The younger son of another lord. To keep our bloodline unsullied. Someone who will be pliable to my brother’s will, no doubt.”

“A nefarious plan, indeed. And I suppose your brother means to make you more desperate for the release of your funds as time goes on.”

That brought Philippa’s attention back to the solicitor. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Tuttle-Kirk rose from his place behind the desk and paced to the large window overlooking the busy street below. Lawyers and solicitors made up the tenancies of the entire row. “I must ask, my lady, if you have noticed any strange behavior by your brother—or any of the family members who agree with his way of thinking—that would seem to push you toward a particular match?”

“I know my brother approves of a certain man, who has been most persistent in seeking an attachment.” Philippa raised her eyebrows. “I know he has spoken to my brother, and he does seem to show up everywhere I am invited.”

“Ah.” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk turned around. He went to a drawer in his desk and opened it, then pulled out a copy of the newspaper. A newspaper she had seen far too often of late. “You speak of the mysterious Lord W.”

Her jaw dropped open, and she looked up at him in shock. “You have read about that?”

“Of course. I had to know everything about your brother’s charity ball. And this was in the same paper.” He dropped it to his desk, his frown returning. “I am not usually one for gossip, Lady Philippa, but as several days have passed, I must ask if this piece of rumor has died down or become inflamed.”

Her mother had spent all of the afternoon before writing letters to her friends in Society. Philippa had thought little of it until that moment. But if Richard and her mother worked together, as they so often did, perhaps her mother meant to stir the rumors about rather than let them be laid to rest. That she suspected her own mother of such a thing caused a sharp pain in her breast. “I have not been out much in Society this week. Yet I have the sudden feeling that you are right in thinking…in thinking that this will not be the last Lord Walter’s name and mine are bandied about together.”

Bessie appeared sympathetic as she lowered her gaze to the plate of biscuits in her lap. The maid surprised her further by speaking, her words soft in the large office. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but I don’t think the gossip has died down. The servants below stairs are saying it’s only a matter of time before his lordship makes you agree to a contracted marriage.”

“Thank you for speaking up, Miss Lambert.” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk paced back to his chair and sat, meeting Philippa’s gaze with a hard look in his eyes. “As the servants think, so too does London. At least, in my experience, that’s how it goes.”

Philippa rubbed at her temples before remembering herself, adjusting her posture and affecting an air of calm that she certainly didn’t feel. “I would like to remove myself from my brother’s protection and have the financial security my father intended for me as soon as possible. What, in your expert opinion, ought I to do?”

Mr. Tuttle-Kirk looked down at the papers upon his desk, and Philippa appreciated the long moment’s silence as he considered the situation. When he spoke, his voice was gentle even as his words were firm. “You send a legal notice to your brother, written by a man of law whom you trust, informing him to make the full payment of your inheritance to you or else you will take him to court for a very public trial.”

“Would you please represent my interests, Mr. Tuttle-Kirk?”

His smile briefly appeared beneath his mustache. “Of course, Lady Philippa. I am honored that you’ve asked.” Then he went back to his more serious mien. “That will begin the proceedings. Knowing your brother from my past interactions with him, I do not believe he will easily acquiesce to your request. So I must prepare you to do battle before the judgement bar, my lady.”

A sickly, sinking feeling took hold in her stomach. “I understand.”

“And then we are at the mercy of a judge, who might well side with your brother, meaning you will have no access to those funds until your twenty-fourth birthday.”

Philippa wilted, her shoulders falling and her calm disintegrating a little more. “I see. All while the public watches, no doubt, as my brother tries to bend us all to his will.” She closed her eyes and sat back in her chair, not caring about imperfect posture. “If this is the only way, then I am prepared to go forward. I am certain Adam and Elaine will let me stay with them until it’s all over.”

Her mother really had no say over what Philippa did, given that Philippa had come of age, but she had wanted to preserve that relationship as much as possible. Even if it meant letting her mother drag her from ballroom to ballroom, and salon to salon, questing after a social status Philippa didn’t even care to possess.

Her hands trembled in her lap, and she hurriedly folded them on top of one another. She couldn’t lose heart yet. Despite her realization that her mother and brother could both make her life quite miserable when they found out how determined she was to avoid marriage to Lord Walter—or anyone like him—and gain her freedom.

“There may be one other way,” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk said, sounding most reluctant. When she lifted her eyes to peer at him, he was grimacing. “I am loathe to propose the idea to you, Lady Philippa, given that you are attempting to gain independence. But if, perhaps, there is a gentleman to whom you would not mind attaching yourself to through marriage, that would put an end to anyone else deciding your fate for you.”

At once she remembered when Mr. Cobbett had appeared at the townhouse, paper in hand, visage serious. When she’d thought, for one absurd moment, that he’d come to propose marriage, to save her reputation like some hero from a gothic novel. Thank goodness Elaine had said something before Philippa answered him.

But what if that had been the case? Was there any gentleman of her acquaintance who might take her cause up as his own and marry her without expectation of gaining control over Philippa herself?

“You are thinking of someone,” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk said, and Bessie inhaled sharply.

“Perhaps.” Philippa glanced at her maid, then looked up at Mr. Tuttle-Kirk. “I do not know the gentleman very well. Yet. And I am not certain how to make inquiries…”

Mr. Tuttle-Kirk withdrew a pencil and sheet of paper from his desk and slid both across to her. “Write down his name and anything else you know. I can have a full report ready for you on Monday. I’ll also have a draft of the letter to send to your brother, and a draft of a marriage contract for you to look over to decide if that option is worth your pursuit.”

Philippa’s heart raced as she picked up the pencil. Was this at all wise? Could she not think of another man whom she might trust? Yet she wrote Mr. Cobbett’s name, what she knew of his military career, and a brief description of him. Then she folded the paper and handed it back to Mr. Tuttle-Kirk, her hand no longer trembling.

His blue eyes met hers, an unexpected warmth and kindness within them. “Take heart, Lady Philippa. I will bend my mind to this issue, and I will not rest until you are happily settled. One way or another.”