Page 60 of West End Earl
A bark of laughter she’d heard countless times over the years made her stomach sink. “A rushed wedding invokes scandal, and no countess of mine will have scandal attached to her.”
Phee’s chest went hollow. A dead space. Cal’s words—not a denial, and not surprised that Eastly still expected him to marry Violet Cuthbert—echoed off the walls of her ribs, taking chunks from her heart.
Son of a bitch, he’d said he’d handle it.
He’d said he loved her.
He’d promised this would come to nothing, but evidently he hadn’t made that clear to his own bloodyfather. And God knew Eastly always got what he wanted. Cal never denied the man anything, just walked behind him, cleaning his messes and paying off people left and right. Hell, she’d delivered those payments more than once. Even now, after professing his love for the hundredth time when she’d left his bed this morning, he stood in that roomnottelling Eastly to take those wedding plans to the devil.
No countess of mine will have scandal attached to her.
That eliminated Phee as an option, now didn’t it? He’d spoken of a future, but had he ever actually mentioned marriage?
It didn’t take long to search her memories. Happy, joy-filled memories, with promises she’d cherished and held close to her heart. He’d never mentioned marriage. Not once.
Lordy, she’d been taken in by the oldest trick in the book—that future he talked of wasn’t marriage. He wanted a mistress. A secret relationship, where she’d spend the rest of her life hiding, as she had for so long already.
One by one the emotions she’d entrusted to Cal withered into a deadened lump, like a flower that dared bloom too early, only to succumb to frost. Air stalled in her lungs, and she was afraid that if she drew in a deep enough breath, it would become a wail. Not the whimpering tears of a broken heart, but the battle cry of a lover betrayed.
What had she expected? That the rich and powerful Earl of Carlyle would—what? Marry a nobody like Ophelia Hardwick? Had she truly thought the man who spent his time finding new ways to make money and suppressing his family’s scandals would marryherwhen he could save his father’s hide for the umpteenth time and gain a healthy dowry to boot?
Hell, Phee didn’t even technically exist on paper. How ludicrous to think for even a second he might wait for her to inherit, then marry her once she’d assumed a new name.
The hand on the doorknob curled into a tight fist until the tendons in her forearms protested with a sharp ache. She’d trusted blindly, for the first time in years, believing everything he told her. Somehow, he’d even maneuveredPheeinto planning a house party for the woman Eastly wanted him to marry.
How dare he.
Out of the cold remains of her heart, a thick hedge of thorns grew around where she’d once been soft and vulnerable. Maybe he hadn’t lied outright, but there could be no doubt he’d omitted, manipulated, and played her for a fool.
Despite the fury roiling in her, a sob broke through. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. He wouldn’t see her cry. Phee’s vulnerability and softness weren’t his to witness anymore.
In fact, he wouldn’t know she’d discovered the truth until she was damn good and ready to tell him. Two could withhold information. The thought settled deep into her new blessedly numb state.
Since the day of the accident that killed her brother, she’d lived by a plan. Phee needed to retreat to that place in her head where claiming her inheritance and disappearing were the most important things. No more beautiful earls who looked like fallen angels and lulled her into believing she could live a fantasy.
If ever there’d been a time that called for action, this was it. When she finished with Cal, she’d be free.
Piece by piece, like a puzzle coming together, a new plan formed. One that would not only help her but prove to Cal once and for all that the street scrapper he’d sent to investigate his problems could solve her own problems, thank you very much. The brilliance of it made her lips curl in a twisted imitation of a smile.
The dull thuds of her footfalls echoed off the fine marble tile as she made her way out of the house. At the lake, the boats were returning to shore, and servants bustled about in their fine livery, as if caring for the pampered guests was the only thing in the world that mattered. As luck would have it, Miss Cuthbert’s boat pulled to shore when Phee joined the party with studied casualness. Pasting on a cheerful smile, Phee offered her hand to Miss Cuthbert as she disembarked.
“I hear felicitations are in order. The Marquess of Eastly is at the house and let slip about your understanding with Lord Carlyle.”
Miss Cuthbert stared down at her feet. “Thank you, Mr. Hardwick. Our fathers arranged the match.”
There’d been no misunderstanding, then. A tiny seed of fragile hope she didn’t even know she had been sheltering died. Phee offered a shallow bow. “Best wishes on your wedding, Miss Cuthbert.” Phee let go of the dainty gloved hand as quickly as possible and turned to the occupants of the next boat. “Lady Emma, might I have a word?”
Emma dimpled prettily. “Of course, Mr. Hardwick. Shall we walk?”
They strolled side by side away from the party, following the curving shore of the lake. Phee clasped her hands behind her back and said, “There’s much I want to say, but by talking to you now, I am trusting you. Are you trustworthy, Emma?”
Emma’s fingers worried at the edge of her glove. “You’re privy to my biggest secret. Except for Roxbury, and possibly my maid, you are the only one who knows. We might be bound by secrets, you and I.”
The success of the next step of Phee’s plan relied on Emma being a willing participant. “I haven’t shared my secrets with you. I’d like to rectify that now.”
Emma tilted her head. “I’m listening.”
The guests of the house party were well behind them, with the lawn swallowing the sharp, trilling scales of laughter and rumbling conversation. Phee glanced over her shoulder, but no one seemed to care that they’d wandered off on their own. “I’ve been impersonating my brother, waiting until he would have been old enough to inherit.”
