That only left George to inform. And Harry since he was not, officially at any rate, supposed to know what had passed during Philip’s visit to the country. And, per his instructions from Harry, Philip sought out his brothers at White’s.
George seemed pleased to see him. Harry hung back, watching, prepared for the fireworks he knew were about to explode.
“There you are, Philip! Back from the country already? Good, good. Knew you’d see reason,” George said heartily.
Philip clapped his older brother on the shoulder. “Oh, I’m back. And I thought it best to tell you myself, before the news hits the papers tomorrow. Miss Ashbourne and I are to be married. You may wish us happy!”
George looked as near to apoplexy as Sir Thomas had done some time earlier. “But—that is to say—Athenia assured me.”
Now Harry patted his oldest brother on the shoulder.
“The words you are looking for are congratulations and I wish you happy,” Philip prompted.
Lord Darton glared at his brother. “Well, of course I do,” he said. “It is just that I do not agree with you on how it might be achieved!” He paused and changed his tone. “Surely you see this is impossible?” he pleaded.
“No, George, I do not,” Philip said stiffly. “Harry, you agree with me, don’t you? Tell George that the match is unexceptionable.”
There was a twinkle in Harry’s eyes, but he had a role to play. This was, after all, the reason he was supposed to be in London—to try to prevent just such a mésalliance. So now he avoided Philip’s eyes. He looked down. He looked at the far wall. He looked at his impeccably groomed fingernails.
Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Harry said, “Oh, the devil with it! It is your life, Philip, and I must suppose you know what you are doing. I wish you congratulations and hope that you shall be very happy.” He leaned closer to Darton and said, “Think, George! The matter is clearly settled. If you wish to have any prayer of avoiding scandal, you had best try to put a good face on the matter.”
Darton grumbled, but even he could see the sense of that. Finally he clapped Philip on the shoulder and said, roughly, “Well, I don’t say that I like it but you are old enough to know your own mind. I do hope you shall be happy with the girl, I just don’t depend upon it.”
“That is quite enough for me,” Philip retorted, with a wry smile, “I should not expect more from you.” He turned to Harry and asked, “How soon do you return to duty?”
Harry glanced at Darton and there was a wry smile on his face as well as he replied, “I suppose, under the circumstances, there is nothing to keep me here any longer. I shall probably leave London in the morning.”
A look passed between the two brothers and then Philip took his own leave knowing that behind him White’s would be abuzz with word of their encounter.
Then, finally, he headed for his office. There was a great deal of work to catch up on.
It was hours later before he was free to call upon Miss Ashbourne. The first words she said, when Whiten showed him into the drawing room were, “Aunt Agatha and Sir Thomas are getting married!”
Philip looked over at the older couple who were blushing. Murmuring suitable words of surprise and approval, Philip greeted both of them.
“I shall wish you happy, sir. And Miss Jarrod, I can only hope that Sir Thomas realizes how fortunate he is.”
Sir Thomas growled but there was no doubt he was also pleased. “I do, you infernal puppy!” he said. “Now go out to the garden with Miss Ashbourne and plan your own wedding! Your future household. How many children you wish to have. Anything, so long as you leave Agatha and me alone.”
Philip grinned. “An excellent notion!” he replied, smiling warmly at Emily.
He offered her his arm and she took it, blushing sweetly. And they went, as Sir Thomas had directed, out to the back garden to plan the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
Philip stared at Emily warily over the breakfast table. She had that glint in her eyes that warned him she was planning something she knew he wouldn’t like.
He was right.
“Philip, my friend Lady Cathcart says that she is going to take a tour of Bedlam today. You don’t mind if I go along, do you?”
Philip closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again. He fixed his gaze firmly on her face. “Bedlam? What are you planning to do? Loose the residents? Attack the guards? Lecture the director? Tell me the worst, Emily. What are you planning now?”
She had a look of injured innocence that fooled neither one of them. “I just thought,” she said, tracing a design with her fingertip on the tablecloth, “that I might gather some information.”
“Information?” Philip raised an eyebrow and his voice was skeptical as he said, “To what purpose, my love?”
Now she grinned at him, “Well, I did think an article or two in the paper might stir things up a bit. Provide a call for change. Particularly if people know that at times even ladies have been placed there.”
Philip sighed. “The conditions at Bedlam are no secret. Not when anyone can tour the place and laugh at the residents anytime they wish,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but by the time I am done, they shan’t laugh,” she said seriously. “I shall waken their sympathies. And their indignation. And if it isn’t real, well, they shall be afraid to admit to it by the time I am done.”
His lips twitched with amusement. Philip had no doubt she could do it. Her articles, published anonymously, were the talk of London. Everyone wondered who the fiery young man was who was writing them. Only Emily, Philip, and her editor knew the truth and Philip devoutly hoped it would stay that way!
“I suppose,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “that this means you will soon be asking me to take on the case of one of these unfortunate creatures, imprisoned there?”
Her eyes lit up. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but of course! It would answer perfectly.”
Philip groaned and wondered silently why he had been fool enough to give her notions. “Oh, no,” he said. “They are already calling me the reckless barrister!”
Emily read his expression perfectly. She came around the table and hugged him. “You are merely a good man who cannot bear to see injustice done, any more than I can.”
“Don’t think to come over me so easily as that,” he growled.
She kissed his neck, right below his ear. “I don’t,” she whispered. “But it is very hard to pretend to be heartless when I know you purchased Canfield’s mill and gave it to the workers to run.”
“It was an excellent investment,” he countered.
“And was it an investment when you paid half the salary of the servants you hired for Aunt Agatha and me when I first met you?” she asked, kissing his neck below the other ear.
“You weren’t supposed to know about that!”
“But I do.”
“You will be the ruin of us both, one of these days,” Philip warned.
Then, with another growl, he turned and pulled her onto his lap. “I won’t have you forever turning my life upside down!” he said, frowning as severely as he could.
Emily wound her arms around his neck and said, “I know.”
And then, before he could say anything more, she kissed him. Not a chaste salute, but a kiss of depth and passion that made them both forget everything else and Philip found himself thinking that having such a wife—one with passion in her heart—was not, perhaps such a terrible thing after all.
And if, because of her, he was known as the reckless barrister, well, perhaps that was not such a terrible thing after all, either. Somewhere, he thought, his father was probably smiling.
Copyright © 1999 by April Kihlstrom
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 0451197941)
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying
electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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