The tavern keeper frowned. “Weren’t you here just a few hours ago?”
“Is that your business?” Philip snapped. “I’ve got money. That’s all that matters, right?”
The tavern keeper frowned, but served him his drink.
Chapter 24
Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill
By six in the afternoon, Philip was passed out on the bar. He woke to the tavern keeper shaking his shoulder lightly. “Hello? Sir? Think you best go home, chap.”
Philip blinked his bloodshot eyes open. Some dazed part of him expected to be in bed, but when he woke and saw the tavern keeper and the empty glasses, he realized where he was.
Philip stood. He was a little wobbly on his feet, but he managed. He walked out of the tavern and took a deep breath of the air, hoping it would help sober him up.
He stood outside for a long time, with his coat hanging in his hand. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in a tavern in the afternoon. It had happened once before, a few days after his mother’s funeral, when he’d been in America.
Philip recognized this feeling. This hollowed out pain that sat in his chest. Wincing, he rubbed at his sternum as if he could rub some warmth back into his heart.
But all he felt was this cold emptiness, mingled with so much anger that he felt like it was poisoning him.
What had happened to him?
He tried to look at his life as though it wasn’t his and asked himself what he saw. He’d chased away his friends. He’d alienated himself from his brother. His relationship with his father was tense at best.
Worst of all, he’d started falling for a woman who’d torn his friend’s heart out. A woman he was letting tear his heart out, because he was too stupid to listen to Theodore and take heed of his warning. Too arrogant to think himself capable of falling victim to someone else’s charm.
And at the root of it all… he had a dead mother. And a dead friend.
It was a dismal life he was leading.
With that realization, he knew that he didn’t want to be alone right now. But who could he go to?
He’d pushed Bradley away and didn’t feel like he deserved his kindness right now. Theodore was angry with him for betraying Edgar by developing feelings for Loraine, which he couldn’t deny anymore. His brother was horrified by Philip’s behavior and his father wouldn’t understand.
The person he wanted to go to was Loraine. But that was just pure folly, because she clearly wanted nothing to do with him. She wasn’t the woman she’d led him to believe she was, just as Theodore had predicted.
She was a heartbreaker.
So Philip went to the only remaining people who could comfort him. The two people who wouldn’t have judged. The kindest people he’d ever known.
His mother and Edgar.
When he reached the cemetery, Philip went to Edgar’s grave first. He didn’t feel able to stand, because he was only just starting to sober up and because he hadn’t slept enough. So he sat down on the grass and stared at the tombstone.
He sat there for a long time and tried to imagine that Edgar was there too, sitting beside him.
***
Miss Loraine Beauchamp
Having spent two weeks in Paris with nothing to do but dwell on Philip, Loraine was surprised to find she hadn’t really known what to say to him when she finally saw him.
Though she’d decided to continue with her plot to break his heart, any semblance of some greater plan fell apart when they were face-to-face.
When she realized how angry and hurt she was, and how much she’d been trying to hide that fact from herself.
But once she saw his eyes and she heard the accusation in his voice, she’d wanted nothing more than to hit him. To scream at him that he had no right to imply that she was cruel, after all he’d done to so many women.
Unable to reveal that she knew the truth of him, she’d settled for meanness, which she considered to be beneath her. And the moment she walked away, she despised herself for it.
By going to Paris, she’d meant to make him desperate for her. To prove that she didn’t care for him as much as he might think. But by reacting as she did in town, she’d ruined that rouse entirely.
She’d shown her anger, so that he now either thought her capricious and heartless, or he knew the truth of their relationship; that she cared a great deal more than her sudden departure had implied.
Frustrated with herself and with him, Loraine had every intention of going home and burying her face in her pillow. She’d gone to Paris for a clear head and, having spent just a few moments with Philip, she felt like an utter mess all over again.
Before seeing him anytime soon, she needed to devise a concrete plan. But as she got into her carriage and shut the door behind her, she heard a knock.
Loraine looked out the window, to see Bradley standing there with a grave look on his face. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Beauchamp,” he said.
“Not at all, Lord Stenson. I hope you’re well?” Loraine answered, though her countenance was perplexed. She couldn’t imagine why he would seek her out, unless Philip had sent him.
“Not so well,” he admitted, with a small smile.
“Oh,” Loraine answered. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you truly, Miss Beauchamp?”
Loraine blinked, her confusion mounting. “Of course.”
“Then might you do something for me?”
Here it is, she thought. Loraine contemplated what to say in reply, but instead of speaking she opened the carriage door and gestured for him to take a seat.
“Thank you,” he said, as he stepped inside. He took a seat opposite Loraine.
“Go on,” she said, doing her utmost to disguise her curiosity.
She had every suspicion that Philip had sent him. That this was all part of his game. But Bradley Stenson had not struck her as the sort to play into those games.
She thought of him as being less mischievous than Philip and Theodore. At least, that was the impression she’d gotten from him.
He shifted his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat. “You saw Philip in town just now, did you not?”
“I did,” she replied slowly, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Why?”
“It’s just that he was rather upset, Miss Beauchamp. I wondered if he told you why?”
Loraine’s suspicion wavered and her brow furrowed a little. “He told you he was upset?”
“He didn’t need to,” Bradley said, in a sad voice. “He was in a state.”
Loraine leaned forwards in her seat, her expression more intent. “Did his state worry you?”
He looked surprised by this question. “Well… yes. He can be quite…”
“Quite what?”
“Well, you know…”
She didn’t.
Loraine leaned back in her seat, frowning, and then she looked out the window. “I may have upset him,” she admitted. “But I imagine he’ll recover from it almost instantaneously.”
Bradley tilted his head like a perplexed animal. “Why do you think that?”
Loraine waved her hand as if this was a silly question. “You know how he can be.”
“Yes, I do,” he agreed, with a deepening frown. “He does not recover well.”
Loraine turned her face and looked at him suddenly. “Pardon?”
“He does not recover well,” Bradley said again. “He never has really.”
Before Loraine could ask him what he meant by that, Bradley started to stand. “Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you.” He opened the carriage door and stepped outside, but before he shut it again he paused.
“You wanted to ask something of me?” She reminded him.
He seemed to hesitate, then looked back up at her. “I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping…” he murmured. “But – well – there was just something I hoped you’d allow me to say.”
He hesitated again, and she waited.
Bradley rubbed the nape
of his neck with his hand. “It’s just that… I wanted to tell you that – well, that I think you and Philip might actually be rather good for each other.”
Loraine let those words sink in.
In the silence that followed, Bradley smiled a little awkwardly. “Is that all?” She asked. She thought her voice sounded strange.
Bradley nodded. “It is,” he said. With an apologetic look, he bid her a good day and shut the carriage door. The carriage driver took this as his signal to get moving. The carriage rumbled to life and Loraine sat back in her seat again.
She felt strange, and confused by what Bradley had said to her. What did he mean that Philip didn’t recover well? He seemed to her to be the most apathetic soul she’d ever encountered.
She couldn’t imagine him being sincerely upset about anything. Angry, yes. But sad? It was hard to imagine.
But the more she sat and thought about it, the more she wondered if perhaps Bradley was right. There had been moments between her and Philip when she’d wondered if there was more to him than he let on.
But imagining him to be some sensitive soul was a bit of a stretch for her.
After all, he was a known womanizer. Not a damned poet.
Once home, she brushed the idea off. Well, she tried to, but it kept coming back to her. And no matter what she did to try to distract herself from the thought of Philip, he kept sneaking back into her head.
It was late afternoon when she couldn’t stand it any longer. She took a horse and rode to the cemetery, because she knew it was the only place she would be able to purge Philip from her mind.
But there was more to it than that.
Since Loraine had come to England… she hadn’t visited her parents’ graves. She’d meant to, but whenever she had a moment to consider it, she would find an excuse not to go; she had too much to do, the plot was more important; her aunt would want to come and it would upset her.
But the truth was that Loraine was afraid to go. She hadn’t been at her parents’ graves since the day before she’d left for America, all those years ago.
What if, when faced with their gravestones, she felt nothing? What if she couldn’t remember them clearly? What if she realized that they were just a distant part of the past now?
It was a thought that had always terrified her. Loraine didn’t want to relinquish what little she kept of them in her memories. Sometimes she was afraid of finding out that they weren’t a part of her anymore. And then they’d truly be gone.
But Loraine knew that it was time to go. If ever there was a time, it was now. She felt like a stranger to herself. She felt stupid and afraid. Angry and embittered, like her aunt. But her parents had never been like that.
They’d been kind and humble.
Brave.
With that in mind, she dismounted her horse and tied it up just outside the cemetery. She twisted her fingers together and hesitated outside the gates, before taking a deep breath and walking inside.
The cemetery was empty, which she appreciated. The silence felt appropriate and it suited her mood. Loraine moved between the gravestones, finding that her feet seemed to remember the path to take.
She’d taken it many times in the weeks following her parents’ deaths, before she’d left for America.
When she saw the graves, she expected them to have aged. But they hadn’t. They looked as fresh as the day they’d been placed, but the earth was no longer so newly turned.
Loraine crouched down beside their graves, which were side by side, and touched the earth. There was fresh grass growing and wildflowers which speckled the graves with color.
Her mother would have liked that.
Loraine felt a lump grow in her throat, and her lips started to tremble. She suddenly thought that it was very foolish of her to have been afraid to come here. She realized, as she touched the cool earth, that it was impossible to forget them.
She started to smile. She remembered everything about them. The way her father had smelt. The way her mother’s hands had wrinkled around the knuckles. The dimple her father got in his cheek when he smiled.
Everything.
As she thought this, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and stood. She felt a drop of water fall and hit her forehead and looked up at the sky. There was a huge, dark raincloud overhead.
When Loraine turned around to look for a tree to serve as a shelter, she caught sight of another mourner on the other side of the cemetery. For a moment, she just looked at him and imagined what his life was like. Wondered who he’d lost.
Then the gentleman turned around and she saw his face.
It was Philip.
Loraine forgot about seeking shelter, even as the sky started to pour. She watched him, but he didn’t appear to be leaving. He walked to another gravestone, a few feet away, and stopped in front of it.
When the rain got heavier, he looked up at the sky and she could see that his face was pale and twisted up…
He was crying.
After several moments, Loraine started walking towards him. She stopped when they were almost shoulder to shoulder and cleared her throat softly, to alert him to her presence.
Philip lifted his head and looked at her as though he was coming out of a dream. When they’d see each other in town just a few hours earlier, they’d both been so angry. And now they were just two people standing soaked in the rain.
She felt her heart tighten for him. He wiped his cheeks quickly and sniffed back the last of his tears. “What are you doing here?” He asked, in a quiet and raspy voice. He didn’t sound angry anymore. Only embarrassed.
“Visiting,” she murmured.
He nodded a little jerkily. “Your parents,” he acknowledged, softly.
“Yes.”
They stood there for a long time, in silence. For the first time since she’d come to England, her mind was quiet and free of plot. And having Philip beside her didn’t disturb that feeling of peacefulness. It nurtured it.
“Since coming back to England, I’ve felt like a stranger in my own home,” she heard herself say, scarcely louder than a whisper. She looked up at him. “Is it strange that I feel more at home here, in a cemetery, than I have for weeks?”
Philip looked down at her. His thick lashes were still lined with tears, but he wasn’t crying anymore. “It’s not strange,” he murmured, and smiled sadly. “I feel the same since coming back.”
Loraine looked at the grave they stood over again. “That’s your mother,” she said, hushed and solemn.
“It is.”
They were quiet for a few moments.
“What was she like?”
Philip started to smile a little. “Too soft for this world,” he whispered.
Loraine’s brow puckered.
“I do not mean it as an insult,” he added, quietly. “Please don’t misunderstand. She was… so very kind. Much too kind.”
Loraine understood, somehow. It was, after all, a lesson she’d learnt from Aunt Esther. That kindness and openness were less useful than cleverness and cunning. In fact, they were dangerous.
“What happened to her?”
“She got sick,” Philip said, his voice broken.
“Did it happen very suddenly?”
Philip shook his head. “It took several weeks.”
Thoughtlessly, Loraine took his hand, threading her fingers with his. “That… that must have been such a terrible time for you. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
But as she spoke, Philip shook his head, thrashing it from side to side. His face twisted into a tormented grimace and his tears came fresh and fast. “I wasn’t there,” he said, and his words broke into a sob. With his free hand, he tried to cover his face. “I’m sorry, God, I’m making a fool of myself.”
Loraine was overcome. Seeing him like this… she felt like she’d stepped into a terrible, alternate world. She stepped in front of him and took his hand from his face. “Don’t,” she murmured, as she cupped
his cheeks in her hands.
She felt his tears roll between her fingers. They felt warm, while the rain that beat down on them was cold.
With a soft sob, Philip rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She held his cheeks and hushed him while he cried.
It was several moments before he fell silent, and even then he didn’t lift his face from hers. But he opened his tearful eyes and looked down at her, their foreheads still touching.
Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies Page 18