Rage made the color fade out of her vision, and everything went red. “They’ll think me a fool now,” she said, in a shaky voice. But it wasn’t shaking with nervousness or sadness. It was tight and violent.
“They already did think you a fool,” her aunt said, not coldly, but with a condescendingly sympathetic frown. “The moment they saw you with him, they knew you to be just as fooled as the other girls. Now tell me, what did you think of the letters?”
Loraine felt like her stomach was in her feet. She felt sick with herself and more angry than she’d been in years. Angry with her aunt, with the ladies who’d written those letters, with herself. And above all, with Philip.
“I’m leaving,” Loraine replied, tersely.
Her aunt stood, suddenly looking frantic. “Leaving? What do you mean? Leaving for where?”
“I’m going to Paris.”
She could see that her aunt suddenly feared that she’d overstepped. That she’d driven Loraine away. Something her aunt had always been frightened of. “You can’t go. Or… or perhaps I’ll go with you?”
“No,” Loraine answered. “I’m going alone. I need you here.”
“For what purpose?”
“To speak to Lord Blackhill when he comes.”
This confused her aunt all the more. “I don’t understand.”
Loraine stared at her for several moments in silence and wondered how her aunt had ever thought herself cunning enough to execute such a plot. “I am going to break his heart,” Loraine said. “But to do so, I need to disappear for a little while.”
Because her aunt was right, as much as Loraine hated it. Loraine had fallen in too deep and Philip knew it. He had the upper hand and the only way to snatch her power back was to put distance between them.
She’d prove to him that she didn’t care about him. She’d go to France as if on a whim, without even telling him. It would drive him mad.
It dawned on Aunt Esther then and she started to smile. “Oh, that’s very good,” she said. “Very good indeed.”
“I’m going to pack,” Loraine replied. “I’ll leave tonight.”
Chapter 21
Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill
At first, Philip had tried to brush off what Theodore had said to him after Loraine had left that night. But when he’d gone home the next morning, having spent the night at Bradley’s, he’d found himself thinking about it again.
Was Theodore right?
He’d told himself that he was bringing Loraine to meet his friends because he wanted to prove to them that he was winning his bet. But he had to admit that there had been some part of him that was excited by the prospect of introducing her to people he loved.
He’d wanted her to love them too. And he’d wanted them to love her. Once he realized this, he felt compelled to consider whether he was fooling himself with Loraine. Or whether, perhaps, he was falling under the same spell Edgar had.
But what if she was nothing like he’d thought her to be? The Loraine he was coming to know was tender. She was above all the nonsense that other people in London bothered themselves with.
She didn’t seem like she’d been a heartbreaker. She just seemed like she’d been indifferent to men, or wary of them. At least until now. He thought this with a small smile as he went inside the house, and felt his heart flutter a little.
Yes, she might have seemed indifferent before. But he believed that she might be less indifferent to him than she’d like to believe. He thought that she liked him.
Instead of this making him feel victorious, it made him feel warm. He couldn’t stop smiling at the prospect. She liked him. With that in mind, he forgot all about what Theodore had said.
“What are you smiling about?”
Philip looked up, to see his father standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. He hadn’t seen his father since the day he’d arrived back at the estate. In part because he was so often out, and in part because his father rarely left his room or his study.
“I was just enjoying the sun,” Philip lied. He wondered how, after so long, his father could still make him feel so anxious. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you well?”
His father grunted in answer and waved his hand dismissively. “Why are you smiling?” He asked again.
Philip frowned. “I just told you.”
“I’d like to know the truth please.”
Philip swallowed. “What makes you think it isn’t the truth?”
His father sighed impatiently. “Gentlemen of your age and disposition do not smile about the sun. Is there some girl?”
Philip didn’t answer.
“Several girls?”
This was a more comfortable question. “There might be.”
His father shook his head and walked down the stairs. “Not a pleasant path,” his father remarked, seemingly more to himself than to Philip.
“What do you mean?” Philip asked.
“I was rather fond of girls,” his father mused, as he passed him. Philip followed him towards the study, where he was headed. “Lots of girls all at the same time, usually.” His father sank into his seat and picked up the newspaper on the desk.
“And that wasn’t pleasant?” Philip said, frowning.
His father looked up at him over the newspaper, as if he hadn’t expected him to follow. “It can be,” he admitted. “But it can bring trouble too.”
“I don’t mind trouble,” Philip said.
His father snorted, shook his head, and turned the page of the paper. “No, you never have. That’s the problem.”
His father didn’t look up from the paper again and Philip left, frowning to himself.
The next day, Philip made his way to the Beauchamp estate.
He did consider postponing his visit, to prove to Theodore that he wasn’t as besotted as he might seem. But after very little consideration, Philip decided that he didn’t want to risk ruining his progress with Loraine just when it was going so well.
After he knocked on the door, Philip straightened his jacket and cravat. He expected Loraine to open the door, as she usually did as of late, but it wasn’t her who filled the doorway.
It was her Aunt Esther.
“Oh,” Philip said, in his surprise. “Good day.”
She did not greet him. Only looked him up and down with a sour expression. “Why are you here?” She said, rather abruptly.
“I have come to see Miss Loraine,” Philip said, with a courteous smile.
“She is not here,” Aunt Esther answered.
Philip’s smile was replaced by a frown. He tilted his head and wondered if perhaps the old woman was confused. Loraine had intimated that she did not always see things as they were. “Oh? Has she gone into town? I might meet her there.”
“She is not in town,” she replied, with obvious impatience.
Not in town? Philip’s frown deepened. He always came to see Loraine at the same time everyday. And over the last few days, she’d been there to open the door for him. Ready and waiting to see him.
“She is in Paris.”
Had Philip been drinking or eating, he would have choked with his surprise. “Paris? In France?”
“Do you know of another Paris?”
He blinked at the woman, his jaw a little slack. “But… but what took her to Paris? Was there an emergency?”
“No, there was not,” her aunt said, with a knitted brow. “Why should it need to be an emergency for her to be called to Paris?”
Philip didn’t know what to say. He began tripping over his words. “Well, I… I thought that I might see her today. I suppose – well – it rather surprises me that she did not tell me she was leaving,” he admitted.
Aunt Esther shrugged. “Miss Loraine never stays put for long. She gets tired of places – and people – very quickly.”
Philip didn’t know what to say in answer to that, which prompted Aunt Esther to begin closing the door, as if their conversation wa
s over.
With a sudden feeling of desperation, he put his hand against the door to keep it from closing. “When will she be back?” He asked, quickly.
“Whenever she likes,” Aunt Esther said. She directed a pointed look at his hand on the door. “Would you release?”
Flustered and confused, his hand dropped from the wood and the woman promptly slammed the door. He stood there for several moments, his lips still parted.
When he finally stepped off the porch, he was beginning to process the information. Just like that… just like that, she’d gone. And when was she due to return? He had no idea.
Feeling confused, Philip went home. He told himself that she won’t be gone long. That something urgent must have called her there, whether Aunt Esther knew of it or not. Perhaps the woman was just confused. That seemed likely.
He expected a letter from her, perhaps the next day. One she’d sent before she left for Paris. Just a short letter to announce her intention to leave.
But nothing came.
Philip tried to put the whole matter from his mind. What was a few days without her? Nothing at all. He could do some of the things he’d been missing out on since they’d started spending so much time together.
Like get dreadfully drunk, gamble all night long, tavern hop. But though he told himself that these were all things he’d very much like to do, he couldn’t find the motivation to do them.
Most of the time, in fact, he just sat thinking about what might have possibly taken her to France on such short notice. And as time passed, his thoughts became even more ludicrous and unfounded.
Perhaps a dear friend of hers had died suddenly.
Perhaps someone was sick.
Perhaps a gentleman she’d fallen madly in love with had proposed.
This last suspicion began as a thought with very little foundation to it. He brushed it off and told himself he had absolutely no reason to believe that there was another gentleman in her life.
But no matter how hard he tried to fight the thought off, it kept returning to nag at him. From time to time he’d catch himself gnawing on his fingernails as he sat looking out the window, imagining what this man might be like.
Did she find him better looking than Philip?
More intelligent?
More charming?
He did not realize that he was driving himself quite mad with these thoughts until his brother called him out of his daze. “Philip?” He said.
Philip stopped biting his nails and looked up. George was carrying a light. “Why on earth are you sitting in the dark?”
Philip blinked. How long had he been sitting here? He looked around at the drawing room, then out the window. He’d been staring at a tree in the grounds and hadn’t even noticed the sun had set.
“Are you unwell?” George asked, when Philip didn’t produce an answer. “Were you not with Miss Beauchamp today?”
“No…” Philip said, slowly. “I was not.”
“Have you had a falling out?”
Philip’s brow furrowed. “No,” he said, perhaps too quickly, because his brother looked increasingly worried.
At least, he didn’t think they’d had a falling out. But then why had she left? It began to dawn on him that it didn’t really matter why she’d left. All that mattered was that she had left, without a single word. As if he meant nothing at all.
And this idea worried him far more than the prospect of another gentleman pursuing her. “Are you sure you’re alright?” George pressed.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Philip snapped, and promptly left the room. George didn’t press the subject again.
Chapter 22
Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill
The following morning, Philip went to the Beauchamp estate again. This time, when he knocked, it was Mrs. Barrow who came to the door. He had to make a concerted effort not to seem disappointed.
“Good day,” he said. “Is Miss Loraine here?”
Mrs. Barrow looked surprised to see him, unlike Aunt Esther when he’d come previously. “No,” she answered. “She’s in Paris. Did she not tell you?”
“She did not,” Philip answered, in a withering voice.
Though he’d asked Lady Esther the same thing, he thought that Mrs. Barrow might be more likely to give him answers. “Do you know when she is due to return?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Mrs. Barrow confessed. “No one does.”
“Well, do you know why she left?”
For a moment, he thought he almost saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “I don’t know if there was a particular reason, my Lord.”
Philip nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright,” he said, more softly. “Thank you.”
It was difficult to leave and go back home, with no more answers than when he’d left. He expected to feel angry, but he couldn’t muster it. All he felt was strangely hopelessness and, shockingly, hurt.
He went back to the Beauchamp estate the next day, and the next. He went every day for the rest of the week, but had no word of Loraine. Apparently she hadn’t written and they didn’t know when she’d be back. This didn’t seem to concern them, as it concerned Philip.
What was he supposed to do with himself in the meantime? Their relationship had been becoming so intense, and then she’d just vanished into thin air. How was life supposed to resume itself when he had so few answers?
By the second week, concern and hurt began to morph into anger, and he welcomed it. Anger was a feeling he was familiar with. A feeling that kept him warm at night.
How dare she?
How dare she leave?
How dare she toy with his heart and then vanish?
Theodore had been right. She’d fooled him. She’d made him believe that she was good, that her feelings were sincere. Then she’d torn the rug out from under him.
Once the anger came, it was all he could think of and all he could feel. He stormed to Theodore’s estate one evening and banged on the door loudly.
Theodore opened the door, clearly surprised, and Philip barged his way inside. “Over a week,” he shouted. “Over a week and I’ve heard nothing. She just vanishes off to Paris without a single word. How dare she?”
This rant went on for quite some time. He paced Theodore’s living room, wringing his hands and clenching them in the air. “Did I not tell you this would happen?” Theodore interjected, in a stiff voice.
Philip stopped pacing. “What?”
“Look at yourself,” Theodore snapped. “Look at how you’re behaving.”
“What are you getting at?” Philip bit out, impatiently. “Spit it out.”
“You’re madly in love,” Theodore said, in a tone dripping with derision. “Just as I knew you were, you damned fool.”
“How can you accuse me of such a thing?”
“Because it is the truth. You came into this to avenge Edgar, but you’ve lost sight of all that now. You’ve fallen under the very same spell, haven’t you?”
“I came into this to avenge Edgar and that is exactly what I am doing!”
They were shouting now, each of them red in the face.
“You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. I know you.”
Philip felt as if his entire world was shaking. He wouldn’t accept it as the truth. He couldn’t. “Edgar was my friend too, Theodore. I miss him as much as you.”
“And yet you refuse to honor his memory.” Theodore stepped closer and poked a finger into the center of Philip’s chest. Philip’s lips parted and he just stared at his friend.
Theodore jabbed again, harder, punctuating his words. “You spit on his memory, by taking off with the woman he loved. By falling for the woman who broke him.”
“That’s not what this is,” Philip said, feeling increasingly desperate.
“Isn’t it?” Theodore dropped his hand and stepped away. He looked at Philip as if he disgusted him. “Can you truly say that? Truly?”
Philip was silent.
> “Go on,” Theodore said, in a low voice. “Say it. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing but hatred for her.”
As he said this, Theodore came close again. So close that Philip could feel his breath on his face. “Say it,” he said, between grit teeth.
Seducing The Vengeful Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 16
