It was irrational to embrace the comparison and allow her imagination to too easily place Pepper into a hundred harmful fantasies but…the impulse was difficult to overcome.
I dislike my plan more and more for—
“Forgive me, my lady!” Dell took a quick step back, her color turning an awkward hue. “I…I feel unwell!”
“Oh! Dell, see to yourself and—no need to apologize!” Delilah said quickly as her maid fled back into the house to avoid being sick in front of the others.
Pepper shook her head. “That won’t go unnoticed for long,” she sighed. “They’re already watching her close downstairs. I think Mrs. Watson fears it but she’s too kind to say.”
“Oh!” Delilah exclaimed. “Oh, god!”
“Fear not, Mrs. Osborne!” Serena comforted her friend and gave Pepper a warning look. “Pepper speaks with candor and not malice. It’s one of the things I both prize in her but also dread.”
Pepper smiled. “It’s my best quality, Mrs. Osborne. But don’t you worry. I’ll make sure to complain of a touch of an ill stomach and make sure there’s not a raised eyebrow to be seen!”
Delilah smiled in return. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The coachmen came away from checking the horses and the women immediately altered the course of their conversation.
“We should be off then?” Serena asked.
“I’m—I’m not sure if I should leave Dell in such a state.” Delilah hesitated.
“I can remain behind and see to her,” Pepper offered. “I don’t mind. Besides, what do I know of flowers from weeds?”
“That’s kind of you. But only if you’re sure…”
“I’d feel better staying. No need to spoil your outing, Mrs. Osborne. She’s in good hands.” Pepper was openly more cheered to stay than she’d been eyeing the horse and carriage and bobbed a curtsey before skipping back toward the servant’s entrance to the kitchens.
Serena smiled. “Pepper is terrified of horses, Mrs. Osborne. I think Dell has earned her eternal gratitude for this last minute change in our plans.”
“Would there be room for an additional change to your itinerary, ladies?” Phillip’s voice carried from the top of the steps. “Perhaps you would care for an escort on your adventure?”
Delilah’s surprise was total. “Phillip! I apologize! I never thought to invite you to…such a mundane and feminine outing.”
“Your company is never mundane and what man doesn’t revel in feminine outings? If only for the view they afford me into a secret world I can only guess at.” Phillip came down the steps, the tailored lines of his coat accenting his height and the broadness of his shoulders. “And you never know! Gypsies and ruffians may have overrun the village in the dark of night and you may be grateful for my presence.”
Serena had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Oh, my! Well, if it wards off highwaymen and warlocks, I don’t see how we thought to go without you, sir!”
“Just so!” Phillip touched the brim of his hat. “I am at your service.”
“What fun!” Delilah’s acceptance was the final stroke of approval he needed. He helped them both climb up into the carriage and then took the seat across from them. Skirts were arranged, parasols unfurled and they set off, as merry a party as ever.
Within minutes, Phillip had his cousin giggling so hard that Serena nearly had to pat her on the back for fear that she would not catch her breath.
“I never did!” Delilah protested weakly.
“I have witnesses that I can gather written and sworn statements from to the contrary!” he said with a wry grin. “I was twelve and it was indelibly carved into my memory. You with a hundred apples piled into your skirts that you could only carry by holding the hem up above your head in a giant bag—which naturally interfered with your ability to see where you were going!”
“Delilah!” Serena pretended shock. “Did you walk about with your skirts pulled up over your head?”
“It was a dozen apples and I…I do not remember the…exact method of cartage.” Delilah blushed. “I had just gotten a pet rabbit and as I recall, the notion of giving it apples overwhelmed my reason. I was…very excited.”
“It was nearly a bushel and enough for a warren of rabbits,” Phillip amended. “You were so sweet, Delilah. Tearfully trying not to drop a single one and completely trapped in that petticoat prison you’d constructed.”
Serena theatrically reassessed him. “And you did nothing to help your dear cousin? What kind of foul bully were you, Sir Warrick? I am seeing you in a new light, sir.”
“Ah! Now she has caught you out!” Delilah laughed. “He helped me! He caught the front hem of my dress and pulled it out behind him so we created a bit of a hammock between us, did we not?”
“We saved all the apples and a portion of your modesty,” he admitted.
“And did your bunny enjoy the ‘fruits of your labors’?” Serena asked.
“One or two,” Delilah replied. “The rest went into pies, crisps and sauces for the kitchen.”
“So you admit it then,” Phillip leaned forward with a wink. “It was far more than a dozen, wasn’t it, Cousin Delilah?”
She blushed again and nodded happily. “As you say. But I will take the exact count to my grave!”
And so it went. Serena struggled not to be dazzled and charmed as Sir Phillip Warrick relaxed in her presence, enjoyed benign stories of his childhood with his cousin and revealed what unguarded moments with him could be. This was Phillip without a care in the world.
The potential was intoxicating but also tortuous.
For here was the man she’d loved and lost. Here, the conversations she’d imagined they would have had as their lives unfolded. Except that in her daydreams, they would have added their own stories to the tapestry, their own children, and their own laughter to the landscape of their days.
Lady Serena Wellcott no longer wasted time with daydreams and had long since banished the memory of those imaginary landscapes. She forced herself to recall that when her plans unfolded to destroy James, there was no telling what his reaction would be.
And there was no turning back.
“Ah! The flower fair! We have arrived, at last!” Delilah clapped her hands as the carriage pulled to a stop.
Phillip climbed down first and helped his cousin to her feet and then reached back up to Serena. “My lady?”
“Is it safe?” She pretended to eye the crowd of local gardeners and proud matrons with their tables of flower arrangements with great suspicion. “Those tablecloths certainly look long enough to cover at least three gypsies apiece if you fear an ambush.”
“Stay close by my side, Lady Wellcott, and no harm will come to you.” Phillip held out his outstretched hand and she took it as seriously as a queen accepting a scepter.
“So you say but we shall see.”
A circumspect walk about the tables was as diverting as any as the cousins openly enjoyed the day. Serena took in the beauty of the local blooms and tried to keep her spirit from withering at the growing sense that the day was the last of its kind for her.
One perfect day where things are light and easy between us, before all is lost and forever changed.
“Congratulations on your winning ribbon, madam,” Serena said, admiring the ribbon tied to the table of a particularly large basket of dahlias. “They are lovely.”
The woman behind the table curtsied, her color deepening to match her flowers. “Ain’t ye kind, yer ladyship!”
Delilah stepped up to add her own praise to the exchange. “You will have everyone in the guild begging you for cuttings, Mrs. Bell, including me! They are so vibrant!”
Mrs. Bell curtsied again, openly thrilled at the attention. “I’ve a secret or two I shall keep, I think! But weren’t the Delaford’s gardener spitting mad to see that blue ribbon land on me pretties!”
Delilah nodded, lowering her voice discreetly. “Mrs. Delaford always wins the blue ribbon.”
“Well, not always,” Serena noted. “And what a pleasant turn of events!”
“Pleasant and well deserved,” Delilah echoed. “Congratulations, Mrs. Bell.”
As they walked on, Delilah took Phillip’s arm. “Your duty seems clear, Phillip.”
“Does it?” he asked.
“You must check under the Mrs. Bell’s tablecloth for saboteurs.”
He smiled as Serena gestured toward a table covered in red roses.
“The Delafords have quite the look for hardened villains.” Serena moved her parasol to block them from view. “I shouldn’t be surprised if she has a stiletto in that bodice.”
“Oh!” Delilah gasped, covering her mouth to keep from laughing.
Phillip stole a peek and then nodded his head. “She could have a longsword in that bodice.”
“Phillip Warrick!” Poor Delilah had had all the mischief she could manage for one afternoon and struck her cousin in the shoulder. “Behave!”
“I?” he asked in mock astonishment. “Lady Wellcott was the one who—“
“What kind of gentleman deflects the blame to an innocent woman?” Serena interrupted him, folding her parasol in indignation. “What is this?”
Phillip bowed his head, immediately acknowledging that he was outnumbered and unlikely to carry the day. “I apologize. I was overzealous in my guard duty and may have inhaled a strange combination of poppies to overtake my senses.” He put a hand to his head. “I think I should sit down before I add to my doom.”
“I think we have all had enough of flowers for today.” Delilah announced. “Let’s head home.”
They began to walk back to the waiting carriage in the lane by the church yard. “And you, Lady Wellcott? Have you had enough of flowers today?” Phillip asked.
“I suppose so if—“
Phillip held out a small nosegay tied with a green ribbon that matched her ensemble. “Say you have not, Lady Wellcott.”
Serena eyed the forget-me-nots, honey flowers and everlastings, traditionally symbols of love ever faithful and steadfast, love that did not fade despite adversity and a love never forgotten.
Damn it.
In front of Delilah, she felt trapped. To refuse him seemed too brusque a response after the delights of the day but to accept them felt like a bitter betrayal. He’d vowed to keep their secret yet now he was standing before her like a suitor on a penny card. Serena let out a long slow breath. “How…charming.”
“You can take them to your maid,” he said evenly, a gleam in his eyes. “So that she will not feel too badly for missing the day.” He turned to Delilah and held out an identical nosegay. “Here. For your Dell.”
Well played. Wretched man!
“Aren’t you sweet!” Delilah exclaimed and took the flowers from his hand. “What a thoughtful thing to do!”
“Yes,” Serena conceded. “Very thoughtful.” She took the miniature bouquet from him and inhaled the delicate fragrances. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes and caught him staring at her with raw hunger and appreciation. Serena smiled at him and let the moment pass.
One man’s victory is another woman’s defeat.
The return ride to the house was a slightly more subdued journey as Serena clutched her nosegay and pretended that love could last.
“You are warming to each other,” Delilah noted after they’d arrived at Southgate Hall and Lady Wellcott had retreated to her rooms. Delilah had invited Phillip for a quick turn in the gardens and as always, he seemed incapable of refusing her.
“We are.” Phillip agreed, trailing his hands across the top of the lavender blooms along the graveled walkway. He wasn’t sure what else he could say without betraying that heat had never been lacking in his relationship with Raven Wells. “Lady Wellcott is a remarkable woman.”
“She is,” Delilah said and shifted her parasol to block the sun. “I am happy you have secured a cease-fire.”
“Your husband is ecstatic. I only wish he’d stop grinning at me like an ape when he thinks no one is looking.” Phillip shuddered. “How is it that even when things go well, James finds a way to toss a bit of dirt into the pudding?”
“I’m sure he believes it to be a form of encouragement,” Delilah said softly.
“I apologize, cousin. I did not mean to speak ill of your husband.”
“Family has a way of provoking the worst in us.” She touched his arm. “And if I have been a trial to you, Phillip, then I should be the one to apologize.”
“You? Never!” He covered her fingers with his. “Delilah, I think your soft nature if confronted by the Devil himself would inspire you to offer him a shady place to sit and inquire into his health.”
“Oh, dear! I will have to amend my ways and take on a more foreboding manner.” Delilah laughed.
“But what trial did you speak of?”
“I pushed you to make amends with Lady Wellcott but…” Delilah’s steps slowed to a stop to face him. “My friend is not a woman to be toyed with, Phillip. If you mean to simply flirt to appease the situation, or make light of the pursuit then you will have bitten off far more than you can safely chew.”
“What do you know of Lady Wellcott? What are you saying?”
“I am saying that of all the women I know, she will not stomach a man’s deceit.” Delilah shook her head as if to clear her mind. “Are you playacting, Phillip? To make James happy?”
“No. I am not playacting.”
“Then you genuinely care for Lady Wellcott?”
“Beyond measure.”
Delilah sighed. “Well, that is something.” They continued down the path away from the house. “I won’t meddle, cousin. Once upon a time, I imagined that I was a gifted matchmaker with a keen knowledge of the human heart…”
“And now?”
She looked at him, a haunted shadow drifting across her eyes. “I know nothing of love, cousin. Absolutely nothing.”
She turned and left him on the walkway, and Phillip swallowed hard at the sight of her as a small and solitary figure returning to the carved stone Georgian home behind them like a woman marching toward the gallows.
It was a quiet party that night at dinner. Delilah made no effort to recount the day once her husband derided their destination and mocked Phillip’s attendance at what he deemed a peasant’s floral parade.
Serena watched her host closely, making note of his deteriorating social skills and surly disposition. If celibacy had contributed to his mood this quickly, it was hard not to feel more and more confident in his self-destruction. Even as Phillip tried to cheer the man with talk of business or tales of London, Serena felt like a woman viewing a dark improvisation.
Time is going fast.
Too fast.
After dinner, everyone pleaded fatigue and Serena excused herself to retreat to her room. She prepared for bed and then stood at her window for a while to watch the stars rise. The moon was waning but still bright enough to compete with the fiery diamonds of the night sky.
Phillip’s soft knock was not unexpected but she closed her eyes, tasting reluctance. She opened the door slowly without stepping back to let him in. “No.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Serena? We had such a lovely day and—“
“Forgive me, Phillip. I…my head is pounding and I cannot think of…”
He yielded so gently it fueled her misery. “Of course.” He leaned in to kiss her sweetly on her forehead. “Feel better, my love and sleep. Would you like platonic company to soothe your nerves or—“
She held up a hand to stop him. “You are being too kind, Sir Warrick. I cannot imagine admitting you to my bed only to require you to play nursemaid. Please. One night’s respite and I will be restored. I swear it.”
He smiled. “One night’s respite.”
He kissed her again, a platonic brush of his lips to hers that melted into a searing taste of desire before he lifted his head and stepped back in amazement. “I begin to see the dilemma you alluded to
, Lady Wellcott.”
“Good night, Sir Warrick.”
“Good night, Serena.”
She closed the door gently but with a firm hand, unwilling to risk standing there gazing at him to give in to temptation. The day had been rife with the strange bruises that came with every sweet look he’d favored her with and every gentle and unremarkable moment. Happiness she had shielded her heart from and shied from glancing at had invaded her realm without warning.
And God help her, she wasn’t ready to mourn its loss.
Phillip walked down the hall with a quiet bounce in his step. True, he’d been sent off without much amorous relief but the prize he wanted most of all was within sight.
Because when he’d stepped forward to kiss her, he’d seen something that made her withdrawal palatable. On her vanity table in a small crystal vase filled with water to preserve it was the nosegay he’d given her and the meaning of the blooms echoed in his head with every footfall.
Enduring love, sweet and secret.
Chapter Fifteen
Serena stole a few moments of privacy in the ground floor music room. A small pianoforte beckoned her to sit and she gave in to the impulse. She plucked out a few chords and smiled at the memory of her first lessons with the vicar’s wife. Mrs. Gilchrist had always smelled of rosewater and though Serena could barely summon her face or her hair color to mind, she remembered with perfect clarity the beauty of her hands on the piano keys and the gentle melody of her voice.
Serena began to play, then added her voice to the performance.
“My love, a lily grows, without sunlight
Without sighs.
I seek to hear him on the garden path
And in the flowered lanes.
My love, swiftly flees, without a sign
Of his return and I am left to plead.
To find him in the meadow fair
Or in the gentle plains.
Lady Rises (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 2) Page 11