Page 67 of West End Earl
“It’s your money—why would I care what you do with it? Besides, you’ll need clothing for your confinement. All I ask is that we pay our bills promptly. We won’t live on credit. I…can’t. Not after living with the poorest of London. People deserve to be paid for their work promptly.”
“I’ve never thought of credit that way before. But I hear what you are saying. You really don’t mind me buying a new wardrobe? People will say Mr. Hardwick overindulges his new wife,” Emma teased.
“Well, we both know he does nothing else with his new wife. The poor girl deserves to feel pretty,” Phee said dryly.
“Being married to you is better than I thought it would be.” Emma grinned.
“I’m glad you think so, because we should talk about what’s next. Uncle Milton is probably even now being told that my money is beyond his reach. Shockingly, the account was healthier than I expected. Unfortunately, his solicitor knows you came with a generous dowry, since that is hardly a secret. We are a tempting target for Milton’s ire at the moment, and I have no idea what he will do.”
“With the legalities observed, we should publish the marriage notice in theTimes. Otherwise it looks like we’re ashamed of the connection or hiding something,” Emma said.
Phee dropped into the nearest chair. “Agreed. On the topic of hiding—do you still want to leave Town before you start to show?”
“I think that’s best, yes. You’ve already done your part. My baby will be legitimate. We should move towards fulfilling my end of the bargain. So—” Emma took a deep breath as if bracing for impact. “To that end, perhaps you should get a few things from Madame Bouvier as well.”
Unease seized Phee, even though Emma had a point. Years of dreaming about a hypothetical someday, and suddenly that someday was a now.
“Surely Madame Bouvier has a few things on hand.” Emma nodded toward Phee’s clothes. “You’re handy with a needle. We’ll buy something premade and alter it.”
Phee tried to imagine owning a gown. Fitting it to her adult body. Feeling pretty in her clothes, versus ensuring she didn’t look like herself. Would she be comfortable in a dress, or would it feel like a costume, like her cravats did now? Those weeks with Cal had changed her, destroying the ease Phee had once found within Adam’s persona. At the idea of a beautiful dress, a bubble of hopeful happiness settled uncomfortably in her chest alongside her broken heart. Phee rubbed at her breastbone and turned to stare out the window as she mentally walked through the next steps of their plan.
Emma must have misinterpreted her silence, because she pushed the topic. “Isn’t that the point? My baby gets a legal father, and you finally live as a woman.”
The details of the plan essentially boiled down to what most of her plans over the years had—run and start over elsewhere. Present herself to new acquaintances as if the new lie were truth and wait for the lie to feel real. Phee sighed, exhaustion pulling at her—the kind of tiredness that a nap wouldn’t fix. Aches were her constant companions these days, along with that shattered feeling, as if her emotions were shards of glass rattling together, chipping at each other and doing no good except to cause more damage. She turned to Emma.
“Not to sound mercenary, but we need all the money in the bank first. Sums of this size take time, and the will’s paperwork must be processed properly. Then we can move and enact the next stage of the plan.”
Emma nodded. “I still think you should choose a gown or two when I get mine.”
“Fine.” Phee rolled her eyes. “I’ll see what they have on hand. Something made for a particularly tall, flat-chested child, maybe.”
“The height will be the hardest element,” Emma said. “Your legs are miles long, aren’t they? I’m quite jealous of that.”
Phee shot her a dubious look.
“I’m serious. You have these endless, graceful limbs. Everything about me is short. Soon I’ll be as round as I am tall. I understand you may not have a lot of experience with extolling your wiles.” Emma’s sarcasm rang clear and made Phee snort despite the serious subject. “But you’re unique. Long and lean, like a racehorse. And we know how men adore those.”
Phee pressed her palms to heated cheeks. “Is this what having girlfriends is like? We talk about our bodies and dresses and men in far too intimate detail?”
“Never fear that I’ll press for intimate details about the men in your life.” Emma shuddered and curled her lip. “There are things I don’t want to know about my brother. Besides, I am not ready to make nice yet—he treated you abominably and deserves to suffer. But essentially, yes. Few topics are off limits. If it makes you more comfortable, I can belch and scratch myself like a man. Or throw up in another handy piece of porcelain. My body is a never-ending delight of bodily functions these days.”
Phee grinned. The pregnancy sickness had been the great leveler for Emma. A bit of humility did the girl some good, but Phee wouldn’t say so aloud. Besides, Emma had already figured it out.
Girding her proverbial loins, Phee stood and smoothed her turquoise damask silk waistcoat. “How about we visit the modiste now?”
“You mean, before my brother returns from his ride, and you two stare at each other across the dining table like a couple ninnies?”
“Precisely.”
***
Cal stepped aside to allow another footman, burdened with a trunk, access to the line of carriages waiting in the street.
Neighbors all around them suddenly seemed to feel a need for fresh air as one by one, doors opened and people wandered out for a curiously sloth-like promenade along the street. Out of sheer perversity, Cal made eye contact and called out a cheerful greeting to every one of them.Yes, he wanted to say.I see you. You aren’t as sly as you believe. And your fascination with my sister and my lover moving out of the house is not subtle.
This was hell. Over the last few weeks, Phee wouldn’t look at him for longer than a moment or two, and Emma hadn’t spoken to Cal about anything of importance since her wedding day. Dinners were torturous hours of small talk and cutting silence.
He tamped down the frustration before it could boil over and lead him to snap at the curious bystanders. These neighbors had no way of knowing it was his lover leaving him. They’d stare harder if they knew Phee had once warmed his bed and stolen his heart and that Emma was pregnant.
