She relented, and another maid helped Phillipa remove her wet garments. “I will see they are washed and ironed, milady,” she said as she finished unlacing her corset.
Phillipa did not have the energy to correct her use of a title. She wearily sank into the soothing heat of the fragrant bath, easing the tension in her body. She yearned to sink into its comforting embrace and stay there forever.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d not eaten since her afternoon tea with Elisabeth. Hunger and uncertainty had Phillipa hurrying her bath. She dried off and pulled on a gown the maid had left for her. It was simple and of an old fashion, but clean and dry. A wobbly chuckle escaped her lips at the size of the voluminous garment. It swallowed her slender frame and trailed around her on the floor. With a sigh, she gripped the skirts to keep from tripping, and went into the bedchamber.
She froze. “Anthony.”
He was still dressed, only his coat and boots had been removed. Was he not cold?
The fire from the hearth blazed, providing much-needed warmth. When he didn’t respond, she flicked her gaze around her.
The bedroom was stunningly elegant, with masculine decor. A large canopied bed graced the center of the space, and in the far left corner stood a rather impressive oak armoire. Thick, jade-green curtains were drawn back with golden cords. The drapes and the Oriental carpets were bold colors of green, red, and silver. The blandest colors were the soft peach curtains that surrounded the canopied bed.
Clearly not a guest chamber.
Her cheeks burned. Now she understood the furtive glances the maids had given her. She really should not stay in this house.
She met his gaze as she stepped deeper into the room, faltering when his voice snapped at her, sharp as a whip.
“What is it between you and Orwell?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she caught a towel he threw at her. “I—”
“Dry your hair,” he ordered roughly. “Orwell?”
“Nothing. There is nothing between us.” She clutched the lapels of the dressing gown tighter, ignoring her hair.
His eyes silted and the anger flared anew. “Phillipa—”
“I can see you are angry, though I do not understand why. I want to thank you for saving me from—” She stumbled backward as he surged to his feet and in two strides stood before her.
“You do not know why I am angry?” His voice was dangerously low, and he was frightening her.
Her eyes skidded to the bed and then back to his. “No.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Surely, you must comprehend the situation you placed yourself in,” he said more calmly.
“Me?” She gaped at him and her own anger flared. “I was abducted and attacked! How is that my fault?”
“I do not blame you, Phillipa, for Orwell’s atrocious conduct. However, all this could have been prevented if only you had confided in me when I asked,” he said with visible frustration. “What do you think he planned to do to you?”
She trembled at the memory of her fear and revulsion. The pain of Orwell’s fondling pummeled into her anew and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“So help me God, if you cry I will tan your backside,” Anthony whispered.
Her eyes widened.
“He would have raped you. Beaten you bloody when you resisted. Broken you in unimaginable ways. And no one would ever have known, because Orwell would have likely ended your life afterward,” he said, his teeth grinding. He was clearly more than upset. “I gave you every opportunity to seek my aid, but you chose to withhold the truth. So now we must deal with the consequences together. We will marry, whether or not you wish it.”
She recoiled. “Marry?”
He gave her an incredulous glare. “What did you think would happen? I would rescue you, and everything would simply go back to the way they were yesterday? It will be a miracle if this debacle has escaped society’s notice!”
“Please say no more about Orwell!” she cried, and stuffed a fist in her mouth to contain her sobs.
“We will wait out the storm. I will obtain a special license, and my mother will arrive in the morning. I asked her to send a note to your family so they won’t worry.”
“Thank you; I am eased considerably knowing they won’t be anxious over me, but I will not marry,” she insisted.
His eyes gleamed dangerously. “I do not think you fully understand the situation.” The lethal softness of his voice slapped her more than his snarls.
“I understand perfectly,” she declared, fighting to stay calm. “A cad tried to kidnap and defile me, and instead of society condemning him, judgment will be levied on me, and I will be forced to marry, just so society does not cut me from its ranks.”