To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(3)

“Well, whether you’re ready or not, you don’t have much choice in the matter. Mother is expecting you to reenter Society.” Just like that, Chloe yanked the earth out from under Philippa’s feet.

No!

“Yes,” Chloe said softly.

Had she spoken aloud? Chloe gave a wry smile, so much more in character with who she commonly was, that had their mother’s intentions for them not been breathed to life, then Philippa would have found solace. But Chloe had said it. And now, as her sister proceeded in a very Chloe-like, practical argument on all the reasons Philippa should enter ton life, her mind whirred, spinning out of control. She drew her arms close and hugged the embroidery frame to her chest. She’d been married. For six years. At five and twenty years she was no fresh debutante expected to make a match, and yet, is that what her mother hoped, nay, expected of her? Panic licked at the edge of her senses. Or mayhap Jane and Gabriel didn’t wish her underfoot. Her breath came hard and fast. Of course she could retire to the country alone with her daughters—

“Nor do I think it is a bad idea for you to leave this townhouse,” her sister was saying, yanking Philippa back from the brink.

She blinked rapidly. “I…” Can’t, “…will think on it.”

Her sister’s lips turned down ever so slightly. “Promise me you’ll at least go shopping.”

How desperate Chloe was to send her out. Philippa would rather sit through a lecture on propriety from their always-proper mother than visit Bond Street. No one knew that. Not her younger sister. Not her mother. And certainly not her two elder brothers. They’d always seen a proper lady who enjoyed ladylike ventures: embroidering, shopping, sketching colorful blooms, but never anything more interesting. Then, no one truly knew all the secrets she carried. Or the hopes. Or rather, the hopes she’d once carried, to laugh with abandon and speak her mind. Another pang struck her heart.

“Then Hyde Park,” Chloe persisted with an unwavering resolve that would have impressed any military general. Then, Chloe gave her a long look. “Mother wishes us to join her for tea later this morn.”

Tea? Philippa furrowed her brow and tried to follow that abrupt shift in discourse. “What—?”

Chloe cleared her throat in a purposeful way. “She’ll be joined by Lady Audley.” She paused. “Lord Matthew’s mother.”

That name should mean something and yet it didn’t. Philippa had been so removed in the country with her husband for six years and then a six-month bereavement after his death, there had been little need or want to know any names. Particularly of gentlemen.

“He is recently widowed.” Warning bells went off. Surely not. Surely after having already done her Societal duty of properly wedding she’d not be expected to… With an exasperated sigh, Chloe threw up her hands. “Lady Audley is coming,” Chloe continued.

Oh, Saints on Sunday. This is why Chloe was here. Not because she was attempting to thrust her into Polite Society or matchmake her with another gentleman. Her stomach muscles clenched reflexively. Now it made sense.

Philippa’s sister leaned close and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I recommend you visit the park, and…” She gestured to her elder sister’s black taffeta skirts. “If you wish to silence Mother on another matter, I’d at least don gray.” With a wink, Chloe hopped to her feet and rang for Philippa’s maid.

Philippa had never been so grateful for her younger sister’s loyalty. How much braver and stronger Chloe had always been. She’d long been a master at sidestepping their mother’s plans for her. Where I’ve long stayed indoors, afraid to embrace life. “Thank you,” she said softly and set down her embroidery frame.

A moment later, the door opened and Philippa’s maid, Ella, stepped inside.

Chloe gave a wave of her hand. “Do not give it another thought.” She swept to the front of the room and then with her hand on the door handle, paused. “What you must give another thought to, are Mother’s intentions for you.”

Philippa balled her hands into the fabric of her skirt. As a girl, she’d never been a match for her mother and Gabriel’s goals for her. They saw in her a young debutante who could make an advantageous match with a respectable, honorable gentleman. She bit her lip hard. That is all he’d ever been to her family—respectable, honorable Calvin. And secretly, in a shameful way that would have shocked all, she’d resented that not a single member of her family had seen Calvin for the monster he’d been. Yes, the Edgerton patriarch had been a merciless devil who’d beat his children. But there were other forms of cruelty…and not a single one of her siblings had looked enough to see that.

Hands settled on her shoulders and she jumped as Chloe, of like height, met her gaze squarely. “They expect you to eventually wed,” she said quietly. “Because that is always the expectation, isn’t it? But you’ve been married, Philippa.” Yes, she had. For six years. Unable to meet her sister’s eyes, she slid her gaze beyond Chloe’s shoulder. “Do you know,” her sister murmured more to herself. “For so many years, I believed yours was nothing but a formal arrangement made with Gabriel’s influence. A passionless man he attended school with whom Gabriel respected for being just as staid as he was.” Philippa went still. Chloe lightly squeezed her shoulders. “I have seen you this year, and your mourning, and realize how wrong I’ve been. You loved him.” The words were spoken more statement than anything else and Philippa’s throat worked. “And regardless of what Mother wishes, I’d not see you wed any man, as you’ve already known love.” She paused. “Unless you wish to, that is.”