Page 18 of The Earl’s Tempting Ward (Dukes Gone Dirty #2)

18

I t was a mistake. Philippa had done her part. She’d sent the hired carriage back to London and there was no turning back now.

She eyed the inn where she and Foley had planned to meet.

But this was a mistake.

Her insides felt like rotten meat. Her eyes were burning with the need to weep. The carriage ride here had been an act of torture—regret and grief piercing her skin anew with each jolt and jerk of the vehicle.

He’d follow.

Benedict could even now be riding in this direction. Which was why she’d planned to meet Foley at the inn. It would be faster for them both and they’d be harder to track leaving the city.

But he had to know where they were going.

She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as two rough-looking men with scruffy beards eyed her from the stables beside the inn.

She shouldn’t have left a note, maybe that would have bought her time.

She could have made some excuse about going shopping and then ditched her maid. She could have made so many plans much smarter than this one.

Wicked, evil girl.

Philippa might be wicked, but she’d never been a fool. And this plan was foolish. Almost like she wanted him to follow her.

Like she was begging to be caught.

She swallowed hard. Foley would be waiting for her inside. There was no turning back now.

Her head fell back and she looked up at the gray, cloud-covered sky. Were her parents watching? Were they shaking their heads in disgust at yet another disaster she’d created?

Probably.

But they weren’t here anymore to call her out on her bad behavior. She had no one.

No. She had Benedict.

And he would call her a fool, yes, but he would not think her evil. She tilted her head back to face the sky just as the droplets began to fall.

Rain.

She shut her eyes as memories washed over her.

She’d been a fool that night too. Had she really thought her parents would just let her go? Or had she wanted them to chase her? Had she wanted to make them show her that they cared, even if it was just to prove that they wouldn’t let her go without a fight?

She sniffled and pulled her cloak tighter still. There was no turning back now. She’d do what she set out to do. It might be a foolish path, but it was better than the alternative.

She pushed the door open and was greeted by a waft of warm, stale air and a roomful of beady-eyed stares as the locals assessed her.

Meanwhile, she scanned the crowd for any sign of Foley.

He was there, on the far side of the inn, sitting by the fire with a tankard of ale in his hand. She just barely held back a weary sigh.

He’d ridden here on horseback, and must not have slept after the masquerade if his appearance was anything to go by. He grinned at the sight of her, and the smile was sloppy.

The fool was in his cups?

They had a lengthy journey ahead of them and they were meant to ride his horse until the next stop where they’d ditch the horse and join the next carriage heading their direction.

“Come,” he said, patting the seat beside him. “Get warm before we set out.”

She wanted to argue, but then again she was chilled through and she couldn’t exactly leave without him.

He pushed his ale toward her, but she pushed it back. He didn’t seem to notice because he lifted his hand, signaling the barmaid for another.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a frown.

“Celebrating.” His eyes gleamed with triumph. “My father said I couldn’t do it, you know.”

“Oh yes?” She did not even try to feign interest. The man might have some cleverness about, and was excellent at manipulation, but when she looked at him now, all she saw was weakness.

A weak chin, a sniveling voice going on about his father’s approval…or lack thereof.

She tried to keep the look of disgust from her face, though she couldn’t say who she was more disgusted by, herself or him.

Either way, they were co-conspirators now, she supposed. Two wicked knaves together forever. She eyed the ale with narrowed eyes. Perhaps she should numb her senses for what was to come.

“He thinks I’m useless,” Foley continued, his lips curled in a sneer.

It took her a moment to realize he was still talking about his father. “I’m sorry.”

And despite the fact that he was a cad and quite possibly a useless one at that…she did feel a pang of pity at the wretched emotions in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, waving his mug and sloshing ale over the sides. “Because I’ll prove him wrong, won’t I?” He grinned at her. “We’ll prove them all wrong, you and I.”

Her chest contracted at being dragged into this. She wasn’t looking to prove anything to anyone.

Aren’t you?

She shook off the thought but her mind persisted.

Foley was trying to prove his father wrong. And she…

She was proving her father right. Was there a difference, really? They were both letting their fathers drive their actions.

Philippa reached for the mug and took a swallow as if that could rid her of the bitter taste.

“He thinks I don’t have what it takes,” Foley continued. “Thinks I have no chance of success just because I wasn’t born first. The old fool.” He leaned in toward her. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes I married an heiress.”

She flinched as his hot, stale breath hit her in the face.

“Can’t wait to see the look on all their faces,” he continued in a mutter. “The Duke of Raffian and his wife? Oh, they won’t be able to snub me now, will they?”

She squirmed in her seat at the mention of Evangeline. If there’d been any chance she might have made a friend in England, she was ruining that now.

“And your earl.” His head fell back with a laugh. “Oh, I wish I could see that pompous arse’s face when he realizes that I stole his betrothed.”

“You did not steal anything,” she bit out, her cheeks flushed as her heart twisted painfully. She’d been trying her best not to imagine Benedict’s expression when he saw her gone…when he read her note of farewell…

She shouldn’t have left it. She should have just left and bought herself more time.

The thought had her nudging Foley’s arm. “They won’t be far behind us, you know. The longer you sit here celebrating, the more likely we are to fail.”

He nodded even as he waved her off. “We’ll be fine. Plenty of time.”

She stared at him for a long while trying to make sense of him. It seemed he wanted this more than anything. He’d been willing to blackmail a duke to get a fortune, for heaven’s sake. But here he was, the time to act at hand…

And he was ruining his own chances. He was sabotaging his own plan. Almost like he wanted to be caught.

Aren’t you doing the same?

She stared at him in horror. It wasn’t as though she were making any move to push or prod him toward the door. And even as she’d written that farewell note, she’d understood the response it would evoke.

He would come for her.

Was she just like Foley? A self-destructive wastrel just waiting to be caught and punished?

Despite the hot fire, a cold sweat broke out and trickled down her neck. What if he didn’t come for her? Would she really go through with this? Give her family’s fortune to a fool who didn’t deserve it to be squandered just to appease her guilt?

Give her body to a man who did not care about her?

Hurt the one man who’d ever treated her with kindness and affection?

The one man who might possibly understand her and forgive her and help her become the kind of person she’d always wanted to be?

Not wicked. Not evil.

That wasn’t her.

It didn’t have to be her.

But what she was doing now…this was cruel. She dropped her head into her hands.

Oh, what was she doing? She could be snuggled up in bed with Benedict right now. She could be planning her wedding to the man that she…

Her head came up with a jerk.

Foley was still rambling beside her, but she could barely hear a word over the hectic pounding of her heart.

He was the man she loved.

And she was leaving him.

“He thinks I’m reckless.” Foley leaned in toward her and she backed away in disgust. “I’m not reckless. I’m just quick to seize opportunities. There’s a difference, you know.”

She stared at him with a frown.

She did know. Her parents had called her evil and wicked, but she wasn’t. She knew that. Benedict had helped her to see it without even trying.

For the first time since she’d told Benedict that tragic tale the other night, she let herself go back to that night. The rain now pounding outside the inn’s windows only helped her to feel as if time was turning backwards. Not to the moment of her parents’ crash, but earlier. Just before. The way she’d been feeling when she’d fled her home.

She’d been desperate. Heartbroken. Misunderstood by her parents who seemed intent on thinking the worst of her. And she’d acted recklessly, yes.

Reckless but not cruel.

There was a difference. Reckless was not evil.

Her heart was pounding so fiercely now, it drowned out the furious rainstorm but she focused on the blurred scene outside the window as if she could see Benedict coming.

God, she’d done it again.

He’d chase after her despite the horrid weather. But she didn’t want him to get hurt any more than she’d wished ill upon her parents.

She was up and out of her seat before she fully knew what she was doing.

“Not ready yet,” Foley slurred beside her.

Philippa blinked down at him. For a moment she’d almost forgotten him. Pity swelled inside of her as she watched him drown his self-hatred in ale. This would be her if she continued down this path of self-destruction.

She knew it as surely as she knew that a life with Benedict could be her salvation. A way forward rather than trying to punish herself by proving her father right.

Foley seemed to realize she was still standing beside him and he turned his face upward to glare at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Told you, I’m not ready yet.”

No. He wouldn’t be. She had to wonder, was Foley just as intent on being caught? Maybe not consciously, but his actions now seemed to point toward it. He was a self-fulfilling prophecy, carrying out his father’s ideas about who he was and what he was worth.

But it was Foley who chose to run off with her today, not his father.

It was Foley who’d chosen to lose himself in drink rather than ensure a swift journey.

Foley was making his choices even now by choosing not to act. It wasn’t his father making him reckless, it was him who was acting reckless to prove his father right.

Her breathing was growing shallow. Why was it so much easier to see this in someone else? Maybe because she was too close to her own tragedies, her parents’ voices too firmly fixed in her memories.

But she did not need to let them rule her.

She did not need to make them right.

She took a step away from Foley, her heart racing now as she knew what she must do.

The moment she made the decision, impatience like she’d never known clawed at her. She had to get to Benedict.

She had to make this right.

She opened her mouth to tell Foley she’d been wrong. That this was a mistake. But he snarled up at her, the drunken haze gone from his eyes as he captured her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going without me?”

“Changed my mind about the drink,” she said with a smile meant to appease. “You were right. We can’t go anywhere until this rain eases up anyway. Might as well enjoy ourselves, right?”

The suspicion was still there, but he eased his grip. “See what’s holding her up with my drink too, eh?”

“Of course.” Philippa hurried over to the barmaid and made sure that Foley’s drink would come shortly. And that they wouldn’t stop coming until he was blind drunk.