Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Phillipa was deliriously happy. The severe chill from the inclement weather could not douse her jubilant mood. She curled her hands, warming them over the cup of tea her mother handed her. Anthony would speak with her father that afternoon.
She’d been giddy with excitement after their tumultuous lovemaking in the linen closet. They had laughed like idiots after, and she couldn’t stop hugging and kissing him. She had whispered fiercely that she still wanted to travel, but she desperately wanted to be his wife, if his offer still stood.
He had hugged her even tighter. “I already have the special license in hand and shall send an announcement to the papers tomorrow.”
They had been very circumspect in sneaking back into the ball.
“Are you certain he’s coming, my dear?” her mother queried for the tenth time.
“Yes, Mama,” she answered.
“But why would he not present himself this morning? Why the delay, if you’ve already given him your answer?” Lady Merryweather asked.
For once, Phillipa didn’t mind the inquisition. Nothing could spoil her mood today.
“Lord Anthony had some business to attend. He will call on Papa this afternoon.” Phillipa tried to rein in her impatience, not wanting their doubt to feed hers.
Just before parting last night, Anthony had told her he wanted a word with her before he spoke with her father. Anthony had seemed so intent he had scared her a little. She’d demanded to know immediately what was wrong, but he had only shaken his head. Phillipa still felt a trickle of unease over his odd behavior, but determinedly pushed it aside. He wanted to marry her. What could possibly be amiss?
A sharp rap on the door, and their butler announced the first of their morning callers—Lord Hoyt and his sister, Lady Henrietta. Phillipa rose and curtsied as they were shown into the drawing room. Lord Hoyt gave her a warm smile before bowing to her aunt and her mother.
Pleasantries were exchanged, but his sister fairly vibrated with eagerness to speak. Phillipa knew that only occurred when Lady Henrietta had some juicy titbit of gossip to impart. The feather hat on her head bobbed in her excitement as she dismissed the offer of tea and cake.
Phillipa really did not want to be a part of this. “I’m afraid I have some pressing correspondence that needs to be answered to urgently,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Oh, Phillipa, you’ll want to hear the news I have. You must stay.” Lady Henrietta’s voice was shrilled.
Phillipa restrained a flinch.
Her mother sent her a stern look and reached for the teapot. “Go on, my lady. Tell us.” Her mother poured Lord Hoyt a cup of tea and arranged cakes on a plate.
Phillipa set her face in pleasant determination. “I really must—”
“Lord Anthony Thornton has been exposed as a bastard,” Hoyt murmured portentously.
Lady Merryweather gasped. Her mother froze in the act of handing him the cup of tea. Hot liquid sloshed before Lord Hoyt steadied it, wetting the table and pooling liquid on its gleaming surface.
Phillipa dropped abruptly back into her chair. “What?”
The silence in the room pressed in on her.
“Lord Hoyt,” Lady Merryweather admonished, though she could not hide the horror in her voice. “What an unkind thing to say!”
Phillipa tried to comprehend the import of what was being said. Her mother looked ready to swoon, and dismay laced her aunt’s gaze.
“I assure you, Lady Merryweather,” he defended, “it is all that is being talked about in the drawing rooms this morning. We heard it directly from Lady Godey’s lips.”
“Everyone has noted that Lord Anthony has singled you out of late, Phillipa,” Henrietta murmured with false concern. Her smile was tinged with such maliciousness, Phillipa drew back, startled.
Her throat closed in shock. “I—”
“That is why we hastened to you with the news, my dear.” Lord Hoyt reached for her hand and she snatched it away from him. Why did he look so satisfied?
“Well, I don’t believe it,” she said.
He leaned forward eagerly. “Many will start to whisper about your connection with such a vile imposter pretending to be an honorable gentleman. I believe the matter I brought to your attention at Lady Graham’s ball must be broached with your father today to avoid embroiling you in scandal, my dear.”
Good heavens! Anthony, a vile imposter?
Her aunt surged to her feet, “Oh, Lord Hoyt, what wonderful news. I will alert Mr. Peppiwell that you wish to speak with him.”
Phillipa stared at her, aghast. “No!”
“My love,” Lord Hoyt began, but she slashed her hands in the air, cutting him off.