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The next morning, just as Philip was making his final preparations to return to Oxford, a messenger arrived. Still in high spirits after a lovely dinner with his sister and her sons, and his father finally on his way to recovery, Philip smiled warmly when Petunia knocked on his chamber door and entered.
“Pip, a letter has arrived from Oxford,” she explained, stepping forth to offer him the envelope she held in her hand. “It appears to be from the Duchess of Balfour.”
Philip’s stomach twisted at his sister’s words.Has something happened to Daisy? Has she fallen ill? Has there been an accident?All these thoughts and more rushed through his mind as he took the envelope from his sister and saw that she was right. The wax seal upon the back of the envelope suggested as much.
“I do hope that everything is alright.” Petunia sighed, obviously seeing the concern on her brother’s face. She stepped back a pace and clasped her hands before her, waiting for him to open the letter. And so Philip did so. Breaking the wax seal, he opened the envelope and pulled out the paper inside.
Unfolding it, he began to read what was written there by the duchess’s own hand. With every sentence, he felt bile rising in his throat, sickness threatening to overwhelm him. He could not believe what he was reading.
“Pip, what is it?” Petunia asked, clearly having seen how the colour drained entirely from his face while reading. “What is the matter? Has something happened to Lady Daisy?”
Philip, still reading the letter over and over again in an attempt to get it to make any sense, opened his mouth to respond. Yet when he did, nothing came from his lips but a strangled whimper. Feeling his knees grow weak, Philip stepped back and dropped down onto the end of his bed so as not to collapse entirely.
“Philip, what has happened?” Petunia asked again, her voice growing shrill with concern as she slipped onto the end of the bed beside him and embraced him as if she were already well aware that he had received disastrous news.
Unable to say the words aloud, Philip handed the letter to his sister, recoiling at how she gasped even as she began to read.
“But I don’t understand?” Petunia protested, shaking her head as she continued to read. “You said that you and Lady Daisy had grown close.”
“We have,” Philip responded, unsure whether to feel uncontrollable grief or sheer raging anger at the news he had just received.
“Then how has she come to be engaged to a Lord Lloyd Bessington without your prior knowledge?” Petunia asked, and hearing the words said out loud, Philip felt himself spiralling into grief. His throat constricted in a way that left him entirely unable to speak. He gritted his teeth, holding back the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. Never in his adult life had he cried, and he was not about to allow that to change now.
Before he could respond, his sister gripped hold of the letter from him and began to read. “It says here the family wished for you to be the first to know as you and Lady Daisy are so close, but if that is true, then ...”
Philip couldn’t bear to listen to his sister’s words and so he turned off to them. Ignoring her questioning and fighting the urge to break down, he was certain he knew exactly why he had not already been told of such things.
“Oh, Pip, I am so dreadfully sorry,” Petunia exclaimed, and it wasn’t until she took him in her arms that he realised he could not hold back the tears.
Allowing only a few to fall, he quickly steeled himself against the pain in his heart and straightened up, sniffling away the tears.
“An engagement does not a marriage make,” he told himself firmly, pushing himself up off the bed and out of his sister’s embrace. “I must return to Oxford immediately and find out what is truly going on.”
As a little clarity began to return to him, he remembered the night before his departure from Oxford when he and Lady Daisy had shared a moment in the gardens at the ball, when she had assured him there was nothing between her and Lord Bessington. He had believed her then and even now that he had her stepmother’s letter, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
“Are you sure? You do not wish to upset the apple cart,” Petunia asked, reaching for his hand. Feeling her uncertainty, Philip couldn’t bear her to touch him, and he quickly snatched his hand away before her feelings could rub off on him.No, I must do this!he told himself firmly. No matter what happened, he had to know the truth, or he might never find happiness again.
Returning to Oxford was perhaps the most gruelling and painful journey of his life. Though the distance had not changed any since he had last made the journey, it seemed to take ten times as long as usual.
Taking the carriage directly to the crescent, Philip asked the coachman to stop on the far side, choosing to walk around to the Lockhart residence, hoping he could catch his breath beforehand. Yet by the time he stood before the front door, using the large brass lion head knocker to make his presence known, he found he was quite breathless.
He knocked several times, almost giving up before the door was finally opened. He was most surprised to find himself face to face with a young man he distantly recognised as one of the duke’s footmen.
“Mr Radcliffe,” the footman greeted him with a nod. “I am afraid that the duke and duchess of Balfour are not in residence at the moment.”
“Then it is well that I have come to request a moment of Lady Daisy’s time,” Philip responded, hopeful. His entire body tingled with the vain hope that she might be at home. Yet it was dashed quickly when the footman shook his head.
“I am afraid that the lady is not available at the moment,” he explained, his expression unreadable, though Philip couldn’t help feeling that he saw some glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “Perhaps I might take a message?”
The way the man said the words made Philip feel it would not be worth it. He was unsure why, but he got a sense that no matter what he said, his message would not reach Lady Daisy’s ears.
Perhaps she is mad with me,he thought, wondering whether Daisy had insisted that she did not wish to see him.
“No, thank you.” As an afterthought, Philip quickly added, “Though perhaps you might answer a question for me?”
“If I can, sir, then I shall,” the footman said with a nod. He looked at Philip, his expression still unreadable, and the earl’s son wondered whether he would even get a true answer.
“Is the Lady Daisy betrothed to Lord Lloyd Bessington?” Philip asked, the words sticking in his throat.
