Page 13 of The Lady (Daughters of Dishonour #3)
“Pip,” Margot called out waving, using his brother’s nickname for him.
She had fine dark hair and eyes, an elegant figure at eight months gone, and the kind of intelligence that would never leave her face.
Philip was thankful she stayed on the top steps whilst Flora descended from the carriage.
“Oh, I hoped…” Her voice trailed off as she rallied, realising her husband has not journeyed with them.
“Lady Flora, how good of you to come.” Margot stretched her hand out towards Flora, all smiling welcome.
“This is Mrs. Turbot. I think you have heard of her husband.”
Mrs. Turbot’s bottom lip shook, and Philip saw that Flora gave her a sympathetic nod of greeting. “We are here to help in whatever way we can.” Flora glanced at the two women. “In what I am sure is circumstances beyond both of your control.”
“The twins have at least provided lively entertainment,” Margot said drily. Her reference to her errant and wild sons, his nephews. With his conscience pricking, Philip realised he had not seen either boy in quite some time, and the next few days would hardly give him time to.
“My dear Timothy is fond of them,” Mrs. Turbot said listlessly. “He is only six, but he admires the older boys immensely.”
Margot shot her a worried look before saying with a forced sense of camaraderie, “Let us get inside. The doctor insists I am on my feet and walking, but I prefer to be sat somewhere cosy. I told Cook that you would be on your way, Pip, and he’s baked your favourite. Strawberry tart.”
The countess beckoned them all to follow her inside the manor.
Around them Philip could hear the hullabaloo of the servants, distantly the sound of his nephews playing presumably with young Timothy, and the general cheer of a happy household.
The only sour note was the poor abandoned Mrs. Turbot who looked ready to cry most ardently.
An elderly servant, Mrs. Barnes the housekeeper, ushered them into the nearest parlour.
It was one built for comfort rather than formality, and Margot sank into a seat and gestured towards the tea things.
“Lady Flora, will you take a cup or prefer to unpack first?”
“Because we left in such a hurry, I was forced to leave a great many things behind,” Flora said. “I hope to borrow an item or two from you, dear, until Langley arrives with my maid and trunk.”
“Of course, of course. Mrs. Barnes, please do take Flora upstairs. You may help yourself to any of mine that fits, but it certainly won’t be suitable for me, at least not for a while.” Margot laughed.
Lady Flora kissed Margot’s cheek and slipped out of the parlour with Mrs. Barnes.
As much as he knew duty, and his mother’s missive, meant he had to stay in the parlour, Philip could not help wishing he might be able to follow after Flora. Margot caught the direction of his gaze, his look at Flora’s retreating back and his sister-in-law’s eyebrows raised.
“Tea, Pip?” There was a knowing glow to her question.
Forcing himself to try to be more subtle, Philip nodded and accepted a cup from Mrs. Turbot, who had busied herself with the Sèvres china.
“My mother has left us all in the direst of circumstances,” Philip said, trying to sound as kind as he could, given the present company.
“Running away with your husband Mrs. Turbot is an unforgivable act. However, Langley is searching for them, but in the meantime, I may have a solution.” He lowered his teacup and pulled from his pocket the letter that Langley had given him.
Ignoring his own internal protest at what the letter demanded of him, Philip passed the missive across the table to the two women.
He waited for them to read the demands and then said, “As you clearly see, the dowager will renounce your husband and leave him to return home to you, Mrs. Turbot, as soon as I depart from London.”
A tentative smile graced Mrs. Turbot’s pale face, but Margot looked furious.
She adjusted herself in her seat and looked closely at Philip.
“You mean to give up the life you have built. Your practise. Everything you have worked towards.” Margot paused as she tried to find the right words.
She had caught the look in Philip’s eyes as he’d viewed Flora—he could tell.
“Surely it is worthwhile to restore a husband to his loving wife?”
“And your own happiness, what of that? What if you had some intention towards a girl in London?” Margot asked sharply, and Philip knew he was done trying to hide anything from his clever sister-in-law.
“Please…”
“Will you excuse us, Mrs. Turbot?”
The young matron got to her feet with a murmured thanks to Philip before she slipped out.
Margot turned perceptive eyes on Philip. “You love Lady Flora.” It was not a question, which meant Philip had no reason to respond. Which was just as well since he was not certain he knew how to answer that charge.
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve read the dowager’s letter. You know what my mother wants of me. For me to vanish forever. To burn any connection to the beau monde .”
“She can go hang.” Margot was pink cheeked. “This is about you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Philip said. “If I can help the Turbots, and our own family. Surely it is all that matters. Besides, I am a bastard, and Lady Flora deserves better than the likes of me. But I can do what is expected of me. I can help repair a broken marriage. Surely, Maggie, you want me to do the best thing for all concerned?”