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She smiled at her mother. “I am merely a bit exhausted, mama.”
The countess lifted her brow and pursed her lips. “Since your return from Derbyshire, you have been out of sorts. Confide in me, Pippa. My nerves cannot withstand the worry that something is wrong with you.”
A lump formed in her throat, and she yearned to hurl herself against her mother’s bosom. How could she confide to her mother how reckless and improper she had been? Thankfully, she was not with child as her menses had arrived a few days after the marquess left Hartford Hall. Pippa had wept with equal relief and sorrow, the duality of emotions wrecking her.
I am well, mama, she wanted to say, yet her lips would not form the words. Pippa would have to play the part of a young lady in Town who was enjoying all the entertainments and having a wonderful time. Most of all, she must hide her true feelings from her mother, who was too astute by far. It would hurt her to know that her only daughter’s heart was broken, and Pippa did not want her mother upset. William would not go out of his way to see her and would probably do his best to avoid and ignore her.And surely that is for the best. She hoped that she would be able to smile when she saw him flirting with other women, but that was what rakes and rogues did, and Pippa was not the woman who would ever tame him.
“Mama…” she began softly. “I cannot—”
“Please, Pippa,” her mother said, her eyes wide and anxious. “What is it, my dear? Even your father has noticed you are not your usual self.”
“I…there is a gentleman. You know of the heavy rains in Derbyshire.”
Her mother’s demeanor sharpened. “Yes, my dear?”
Pippa cleared her throat and quickly explained the marquess’s rescue and that she was alone with him for a few days.
“Pippa!”
How aghast her mother sounded? “There was truly no choice, mama. The rain was fierce and terrible, the riverbanks overflowed.”
“Lord Trent is a scoundrel!” her mother cried, briefly pressing a gloved hand over her mouth. “I cannot believe the duchess did not inform me of this right away.”
“Please, mama, Theo meant well, and the marquess was very kind and considerate of me. If not for him, I might have died trying to navigate my way back to Hartford Hall alone. Most of the pathways were impassable with flooding.” She cleared her throat. “And he did try to act with honor. He is not a scoundrel.”
Her mother’s shoulders had stiffened with Pippa’s defense.
“What do you mean he tried to act with honor?”
“Lord Trent tried conventionally to insist that we must marry and that his honor insisted on it.”
Shock widened her mother’s gaze. “Lord Trent offered tomarryyou?”
“Yes. I rejected him of course,” Pippa said, rushing to explain further. “Mama, please do not berate me. He does not love me nor did he speak of any tender affections. How could I marry him when marriage if for a lifetime?”
She made no mention of the times she’d muttered a list of opprobrium to herself denigrating William. Most of which would have horrified her mother that she knew such words and the least awful was that he was a beguiling, degenerate rake. Her anger had merged with the realization that, somehow, she had fallen in love with him and that those passionate hours they had spent together would be treasured by her heart for the rest of her life.
Now the only thing Pippa could do would be to act as if her heart was still whole.
“Are you and the marquess close enough where love might have even been a consideration in his offer?” her mother quietly asked.
That awful feeling clawed up inside of Pippa’s throat. “No, mama, there was not.”
Thankfully the carriage halted, ending their conversation. The steps were knocked down and a footman assisted them from the equipage. Pippa queued for the receiving line, smiling, and nodding at a few acquaintances. She would not see Harriet or Agatha at tonight’s ball since they had remained in Derbyshire to enjoy a longer stay at Hartford Hall and to keep Theo’s company.
Once inside the ballroom, Pippa stayed by her mother’s side. She saw a few ladies she had conversed with in her first season, but most were now married and accompanied by their husbands. Her mother made the rounds, and Pippa attended her, wishing she was at home curled up with a book or at 48 Berkeley Square.
“Lady Phillipa,” Lady Minerva said, coming up to her. “I’ve not seen you in an age. How have you been doing?”
Pippa smiled. Lady Minerva had always been amiable and good-natured toward her when they’d debuted together.
“I am belated with my congratulations,” Pippa said with a smile. “I heard that you have married Viscount Brewster. Congratulations.”
Minerva flushed and her hazel eyes glittered. Her fan uncurled and she moved it about with lazy sensuality. “I am indeed happy with the viscount. Are you aiming to make a match this season? I’ve not noticed you being taken to the dance floor since your arrival.”
She saw no spite in the viscountess’s eyes, yet a ripple of unease coursed over Pippa. She could feel her mother staring at her, and it might very well be her imagination, but Pippa felt as if the small circle of ladies gathered close by were attentively listening for her answer.
“I—”
