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The fae had a point. “I wish I could say I regretted my behavior, but I do not. I love fiercely, whether it is standing up for you and your kin, or indulging myself in the pleasures of my wolven.”
Ainslee rubbed her forehead. “And indulge you did, my lady. I can’t say that I would have done anything differently, except maybe conduct my business behind closed doors. But you must accept that there will be consequences for your behavior.”
With that, there was a knock on the door that startled them both. Phillipa was still in her dressing gown. She’d been exhausted after her harrowing night, and she and the wolven had done nothing more than sleep in each other’s arms. There was nothing more divine than waking up in his warm, fuzzy embrace.
Master Bow was on the other side of the door. Today he wore a pink wig, and as always, a matching jacket.
“Lady Phillipa, I must say, you have caused quite the stir.”
“Yes, I am aware.” But it did not stop her cheeks from turning as pink as his hair. “If you have come to ask me to leave—”
“Oh, absolutely not. I was not aware of your additional recreational activities until I read about them this morning inThe High Tea. Oh, don’t be ashamed. They don’t call them pleasure gardens for nothing!” He gestured to the green fabric that had been laid over his forearm. “You left this in the garden last night, along with the wolven’s clothing. I had my team repair the damage and now I am returning the dress to you.”
“Thank you.” Phillipa curtsied as she accepted the dress, even though she was mortified that Master Bow, of all people at Broadstone Hall, was the one to retrieve it. He’s probably gone for a leisurely walk to collect his thoughts before the day began, and instead discovered their discarded garments.
“As is tradition on the last day of the Ball, we will be taking a walk into town. We would love for us to join us, but of course, we would understand if you wanted to rest before tonight’s festivities.”
“I would quite like to go. Do I have a moment to get ready?”
“Of course. Meet us downstairs when you are dressed. We’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Lady Phillipa!” Ainslee exclaimed when she closed the door. “Are you mad?”
“Do you suggest that I should hide in shame?” She unbuttoned the back of the dress Master Bow had brought her and stepped into it.
“Of course not. Your mother likely stopped in town for the night, and I can’t imagine that she would admit failure so easily and head back to Woodhaven. If you go on that walk, you might as well check yourself into the Royal Hospital.”
“You are correct.” Phillipa sighed. “I do not wish to have another confrontation with her, so I will give my regrets to Master Bow.”
Once that episode ofThe High Teawould make it into town, there was no doubt mother would be completely scandalized. She would spit out her tea as she read it.
Phillipa had to wonder who could be the author behind the gossip rag. It was someone very well connected, or someone she had spoken to herself. She had to practice more discretion with her words. Whoever had written the story forThe High Teaincriminated her, and Mother would have a whole new list of reasons to check her into the Royal Hospital.
“I suppose that is true.” Ainslee’s color darkened again. “There’s something I must tell you about the wolven.”
“Ainslee, you are my best friend, so please take no offense when I tell you I do not wish to hear it. He is my husband, and I am in love with him. I might have come here to kill him, but after last night, I know for sure I cannot live without him.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
Wesley
Wesley felt like he’d been buried under a ton of bricks. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling; in fact, it brought him back to the woods, in his den, after a soaking rain.
The moisture would seep into his bones, the dull ache similar to what he’d experienced the day of his ceremony. Every time he thought it meant he might shift.
Phillipa’s scent was all around him, sweet and heavy. Sleeping with her in his arms had been everything he’d wanted, maybe even more than their time together in the garden, which had been nothing short of exquisite.
Unable to open his eyes, he patted the mattress beside him, hoping to find his wife, but found it cold and empty.
“Phillipa.” The word was muddied on his tongue, like he was a bachelor, and he’d spend his entire night drinking ale at a fighting pit.
She was gone. How long had he been asleep?
His groan echoed through his bedchamber. It took everything he had to open his eyes, but the room was blurry. The corners of his vision dark. His tongue thick and dry in his mouth.
The magic.
Ainslee, the little fae, had used magic on him last night to help heal his gunshot wound and get them back to Broadstone Hall. He sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring the way the room spun around him. He needed water.
