He chuckled softly and smiled. “I got her a map.”
Constance lifted her head from where it had been resting on his shoulder to give him an appalled look. “A map? Are you mad?”
“She wants to travel the world. I thought she would love it. Though, I confess, I have yet to give it to her.”
“Are you going to marry Miss Peppiwell?” his mother asked quietly.
He struggled through the feelings the question roused in him. “I, uh… I was going to. It appears… Things may have changed.”
His sister’s brow furrowed. “I suppose everything will be different now that we have been ostracized from society.”
Their mother let out a sob and buried her face again. The viscount’s expression had not wavered from anxious concern the whole time. His eyes met Anthony’s again as he gathered his wife in his arms. “There, there,” he murmured soothingly. “It will be all right, you’ll see.”
Anthony suddenly knew the man would do anything in the world to ease her pain and distress. His heart squeezed and his respect soared. How powerless Radcliffe must have felt all these years, loving a woman he could not have, and two children he could not raise, or even acknowledge.
Anthony resolved in his heart to try and be a true son to his father, if he’d let him. Somehow, he knew he would.
Constance slipped her hands into his, threading their fingers together. “What are we to do, brother?”
He sighed deeply. “You will go about as if everything is normal, and let me, Sebastian, and the viscount deal with it. When the season starts in the spring, you will attend all balls you are invited to, go on picnics, and take carriage rides. Then you will marry your prince charming.”
Their mother looked up with a watery smile.
Constance frowned at him. “What do you know about my prince charming?”
“It’s not as if you’ve kept it a secret that’s what you desire.”
He laughed at her indignant expression and tugged her back into his side. “You will be fine. True, things may be a bit different. But we do not care a fig about the eyes of Society, do we? What we care about is our family. And the friends who stand behind us. That is the most important thing we should all do, stick together, and remember we are a family, even if we are a complicated family.”
The viscount smiled at him, then, and murmured, “Amen, son.”
They were silent for the longest time, all of them staring into the crackling flame in the hearth, deep in their own thoughts.
“Anthony…” Constance ventured at length. “Why are you no longer considering Miss Peppiwell?”
His heart stalled. He continued to gaze into the fire, unable to see the pity in their eyes when he said, “It is the other way around, I’m afraid. I have heard Lord Hoyt has declared for her.”
Constance gasped softly. “Are you certain?”
“Of his intentions? Yes. Of hers? I have not heard otherwise.”
“Oh, darling. What are you going to do?” his mother asked.
He finally looked up. “What do you think I should do?”
She seemed to search his soul in the brief moment she considered him, but it was the viscount who quietly answered, “If you love her and cannot live without her, fight for her.” A lifetime of regret lived in those words.
Constance gripped his hand. “He is right, Anthony. You must not let another man steal her away from you.”
Hell. His sister was very naive when it came to love. But Sebastian’s advice resonated in his mind, along with the viscount’s life lesson.
“Will you go to her? Ask who she’s chosen?” his mother asked.
He nodded. He’d already made the decision to confront her. “Yes. I’d planned to speak to her father this afternoon, anyway. May as well keep that appointment.” He needed to hear her rejection from her own lips.
That way, he could cut her from his heart completely, instead of spending a lifetime wondering.
…
Astonishment froze the crowd of callers who’d gathered in the Peppiwell’s parlor when the butler announced Anthony, and he strolled in.
Phillipa’s heart leaped, but her feet stayed anchored to the carpet.
She had been appalled by the number of callers who had shown up at their door today—“friends” who’d wanted to be sure she’d heard the scandalous news about her “admirer.” Lord Hoyt, of course, had parked himself next to her and refused to budge. Phillipa had desperately wanted to flee the house, but her mother and aunt, and even her father, had all but imprisoned her and forced her to listen to the gossips speak ill of Anthony and his sweet sister. She held herself cold and detached, impervious to the malice surrounding her.