Page 19 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)
Philippa blinked, remembering when Edward told her what had happened.
It was the single worst day of her life.
‘I had no control over the choice she made. Or my emotions because of that choice. Or my thoughts. They would take me back to some of our most beautiful moments and make everything within me hurt. Even my own decisions seemed out of my control. My body went places without asking my mind for permission. Wandering to our haunts in the middle of the night. Not sleeping. Not eating. I was paralysed for months. Unable to go back to the time when we were together. Unable to move forward. It was as though I died with her and was just a shell. The smallest tap might shatter me, and sometimes, I wanted to shatter. I wanted to join her, wherever she was.’
‘Philippa.’ Olivia’s soft murmur brushed gently over her raw nerves. Her warm hand stroked down Philippa’s arm in a gesture of comfort.
‘I couldn’t share my grief with anyone. I wasn’t supposed to be in love with a woman.
Certainly not my childhood best friend. The only people who knew were those punishing me for loving her.
They would likely take pleasure in knowing I suffered.
Except Edward. But I was too angry to speak with him.
So I kept the pain inside like a secret that grew fierce and feral in the dark.
’ Philippa didn’t realise she was crying until Olivia cupped Philippa’s face in her soft hand.
She brushed her thumb over Philippa’s cheek, catching her tears.
Philippa pulled back and sniffed, unwilling to accept kindness.
‘You mourn her still. Such devotion is something few people show.’
Shaking her head, Philippa shoved her hair away from her face.
‘You don’t understand. I am not some romantic woman pining after my one true love.
I love Liza, but I hate her too, for what she did.
To herself. To me. To any chance we might have had to reunite.
I was so angry with her for not choosing life.
Was our love not worth living for? I swore I would find her.
That we would be together. Did she not have faith that I would keep my promise?
Because I would have moved heaven and earth to rescue her.
’ Philippa’s voice shook with her emotion.
‘I don’t doubt that you would have torn the sky apart to save your love.
’ Olivia’s words soothed something bleeding in Philippa’s soul just as they caused a thrill of panic to run through her.
Why did this woman see her so clearly? The woman she was.
The woman she hoped to become. The woman she hated within herself.
Olivia seemed to see them all. ‘But you can’t know how terrible it must have been for Liza.
Sometimes, death seems far gentler than life. ’
Philippa shook her head. ‘No. Where there is life, there is always hope. She took that hope with her when she died. I hate her for that.’
‘Your anger is understandable. But is it standing in front of your pain? Protecting you? Is hating Liza easier than grieving for her?’
An unbearable ache stretched inside Philippa’s chest, threatening to shatter her ribs. But Olivia kept talking.
‘I think, until you feel that anguish, the anger will never leave.’ She ran her delicate hand up and down Philippa’s arm as tears trailed down Philippa’s face unchecked, plopping onto her coat.
She probably looked a complete fright. The duchess.
Totally undone. It was horrifying to think about.
But easier than accepting Olivia’s words.
Yet even as she tried to pull away, the pain seeped from the darkest corner of her heart, desperate to flow as free as her tears.
‘Let it run through you, Philippa. Don’t be afraid.’
Ridiculous. I’m never afraid. Except any time I think of Liza. And every time I look at Olivia. And now. Right now, I’m bloody terrified.
Because the grief was too large. Too heavy.
Too sharp. Like the waves crashing far beneath them and the jagged rocks upon which they crashed.
Grief was both of those things. And she wasn’t strong enough to feel all of that without exploding into a million tiny pieces.
So, she called forth her rage to push back the sorrow.
‘What could you possibly know of my pain?’ Lashing out seemed far wiser than letting Olivia see her with no shields. ‘You don’t know me, Marchioness. And you never will.’
Olivia pulled her hand back. Her green eyes flashed with hurt before they hardened like emeralds.
She nodded her head in agreement, but it didn’t feel like a triumph.
‘No. You are going to make sure of that, aren’t you?
Because you don’t want anyone to see behind your carefully curated image of the powerful, fearless Duchess of Dorsett.
Always right. Always in control. You wouldn’t want people to discover the broken, terrified, lost woman you really are, Philippa Winterbourne.
’ She flipped over, punched her coat and flomped back down, giving Philippa her back.
‘But I see you. And you can’t frighten me away by shaking your stupid sword and telling me I don’t know you or your pain.
I know you better than you think.’ Flipping back, she pointed a finger at Philippa’s face.
‘And you can’t force me to fight you because that’s the only thing you know how to do when your feelings get too scary.
Perhaps we’re both cowards, but at least I’m trying to change.
’ Olivia turned away again, her hair slapping Philippa’s cheek. ‘Goodnight, Duchess.’
Philippa wanted to reach out, pull Olivia’s shoulder down so she could see her face, and apologise for being a total arse. But the duchess did not apologise because she was never wrong. It was a thought that usually brought her great comfort. But she didn’t want to be right. Not about this.
‘Goodnight, Marchioness.’
Nothing about this night was good. Olivia was right.
Philippa was a coward. She didn’t have the strength to stay true to her oath to Liza and walk away from Olivia, but neither did she have the courage to reach out and pull Olivia into the cradle of her arms. She could feel the heat of Olivia’s body, but couldn’t let the warmth sink past her own skin and melt the ice freezing her soul.
Olivia offered comfort and understanding, but Philippa couldn’t accept it without betraying a woman she loved and hated in equal measure.
There was always a choice. Hers was just an impossible one.