She straightened her spine and met his gaze. “I am already engaged to be married to Lord Anthony. Lord Hoyt, I insist you cease from maligning my betrothed’s good name.”
Lady Henrietta twittered, “Oh, my.” She gave her brother a telling look, as if she had warned him.
“My God,” her mother cried. “You can’t—”
“God has nothing to do with it Mama. These are vicious rumors, and I will not be a part of this discussion!” She shot to her feet. It was vicious gossip, nothing more. Anthony would never have kept such a thing from her. Would he?
The look of appalled betrayal on her mother’s face had Phillipa immediately regretting her outburst. Even Henrietta had been rendered speechless, and she stared at Phillipa with an expression of amazed horror.
“I’m sorry, Mama. But, surely, you see this cannot be true.”
“Think of the humiliation you and your family will have to endure if you go through with this madness.” Lord Hoyt spoke gently. “The stain on his name will be irredeemable. People will no longer invest with him and he will be cut socially and you along with him.”
“You will not align yourself with such a man.” Her mother fanned herself frantically, her face mottled with anger, and she looked as though she was working herself up to a swoon.
“Mama, please. There is no need for theatrics.”
“Do not be flippant with your mother, Phillipa.” Lady Merryweather’s spine snapped straight, but her face had gone ashen with a look in her eyes Phillipa could not bear to see.
Her heart thundered. And she’d thought being caught spending the night in his home would be a scandal!
Society thrived on malicious gossip, and she could only imagine the tidal wave of condemnation that would follow them now. Her stomach roiled, and she fought to keep her face expressionless. Oh, Anthony!
“You must listen to reason, my love.” Lord Hoyt looked at her with earnest regard and she could see he was sincere. Unlike his sister’s vicious glee.
“Surely, this is only a foul rumor,” she murmured after a few tense seconds, pacing away from him.
“I am afraid not,” Lord Hoyt said bluntly. “You’ve only to see him standing next to his mother’s new husband to know the truth of that relationship.”
Her aunt gripped her hands, her eyes lit with sympathy.
“I came to ask for your hand in marriage, Phillipa. My intentions remain the same,” Hoyt said, coming to stand beside her.
Phillipa shook her head, unable to form words. She skirted around him, approaching her mother. “Even if it’s true, I doubt he will fall to ruin. He is part of one of the wealthiest, most influential families in the highest echelon of society, Mama. I still—”
Her mother slapped her. She recoiled in shock, her head snapping back. “Mother!” She touched her cheek, tears springing to her eyes.
“Do not be foolish,” her mother hissed. “He is not a Thornton. Calydon will doubtless distance himself from his false brother, and Lord Anthony will be seen by society as nothing but an affront to morality. You will not bring shame on this family again, young lady!”
Fury slashed through Phillipa. “We are betrothed. How can you demand I beg off because of a vicious rumor?” Her eyes and throat burned with the injustice.
“They are more than rumors, Miss Peppiwell. One only has to look at Lord Radcliffe and the truth is apparent,” Hoyt insisted.
She gaped at him. Then she turned to Lady Merryweather for support. “Aunt Florence, please.”
“You must not be selfish, Phillipa,” she admonished sharply. “Your actions reflect on all of us. Think of your father. Your sisters. The stain of this would travel with Payton and Phoebe for years to come.”
Phillipa thought of the gallant way Anthony had rescued her. His efforts to protect her reputation by offering marriage. The way he made love to her to ensure her pleasure. His charm and kindness and sincerity, his immense popularity among Society, his unabashed love and concern for his sister.
But mostly Phillipa remembered the way he listened to her. With respect and as an equal. He saw everything about her—good and bad—and he did not judge her for any of it. “He is a good man, Aunt, honorable and strong,” she insisted tearfully.
“A bastard is a nobody. He is nothing now. He will no longer be accepted in drawing rooms, or be accepted by anyone of consequence. How can you even think to align our family with such a man?” her aunt said coldly.
Phillipa’s chest tightened at the heartless statement. Incredulity quickly flared along with her mounting rage. A few weeks ago, Anthony had been the prime catch of the season. Those were the words her aunt herself had used more than once. Now he was nothing? She had always loved her aunt tremendously, but now all she felt was anger and disgust. Never had she hated the fickleness of society more than in this minute.