Page 4 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
The woman’s eyes were wide with fright. He was certain that she was not used to be spoken to or being manhandled by drunken lords who came to the gaming hell. She did not reply but merely returned to her work. Philip rubbed his face with his hands, feeling the growing stubble underneath them. He looked around, searching for Charles.
He finally spotted him, crumpled up in a chair, his eyes open with a brooding expression.
Philip stood and moved to the side table to splash cold water on his face. He turned to hear the closing of the door as the maid left and a fire began to grow in the hearth.
“How does your head feel this morning, Charles? Mine feels like a lovely drum being played upon, and I cannot say that you look much better.”
Charles chuckled, losing the brooding look in an instant. “You have never learned to take your liquor, have you? It is too bad that you continue to bring yourself to these dens of iniquity, when you do not know how to properly partake in them. I feel right as can be.”
Philip turned around, pulling at his white cravat to tie it again properly. “Well, as you know, friend, I am not most men. Perhaps my inability to awaken joyfully after a night of indulgence means that I am too pure of heart.”
Charles laughed. “You always enjoy a bit of lording your morality over others, do you not?” With a little difficulty, he stood up and moved in front of the looking glass, adjusting his shirt. “I will be late if I do not hurry.”
“Oh? Where are you off to on this fine day of the Lord?”
Charles grimaced at Philip’s continued religious references. “I am off to see Leonard, our old friend, as usual. We have much business to discuss.”
Philip pulled on his jacket, glad it had not been crinkled in the night.
“Is that so?”
Philip’s heart flipped at the thought of Margaret Whitfield who had grown into quite a beauty over the years, but he hadn’t seen her in over six months. Last time he did, she had been veiled in her mourning attire, but perhaps about a year before that, when he had seen her at Sir Felix Andrews and Sarah’s wedding, friends of Leonard and his wife Juliet. However, she had been busy trying to get Charles’ attention and had even asked him to dance! Philip remembered steaming with jealousy.
He knew that he had always had a foolish passion for her, but her eyes were never turned his way. Only in the direction of Charles, but he knew that Charles had no interest, or at least he had never shown any in all the years they had known each other.
“Yes.” Charles grabbed his hat from a side table and turned to Philip. “See you another time, old friend.”
Philip got an idea. It had been too long since he’d last seen Margaret, and he found he was curious to do so. “What if I came with you to see Leonard? I have not seen the family since the funeral. Perhaps I ought to pay my respects.”
Charles shrugged. “That does not bother me in the slightest. Come along if you must. But remember, the family is still in mourning. Margaret especially has taken the death quite hard. I worry about the poor girl.”
Now, Philip knew he really needed to see her. He needed to know that the cheerful Margaret he had known and loved since his youth was well. “Is Leonard not also upset by the loss of his father?”
“Of course, but he acts as a Duke must. With stoicism and an eye to caring for the businesses under his care.”
“I see.” He knew that he should have written to Leonard more often, or even checked in, to make sure that his old friend was coping well.
“Come, let us go. I do not want to waste any more time. Get your coat and hat.” Philip roused himself from his reverie and dressed hurriedly to follow Charles out of the room.
* * *
Philip’s headache and general malaise did not abate in the carriage ride to Bartley Manor. Unfortunately, he would have to be as stoic as possible to make sure his friends did not guess where he and Charles had spent their evening. Stoicism, that was something he could most certainly work on. Too often he let his emotions entangle him, and he had no way of getting out.
As the carriage pulled up to the side of the Manor, Charles said with a grin, “Have a care, Philip. Do not yawn so often or so noisily in front of the family. You do remember how to behave yourself in polite society, I hope?”
Philip chuckled. “Of course, Charles. My mother would be very upset if I did not know that yawning was not very appropriate among company, especially when ladies are present.” Philip winked.
Charles grinned. “Let us go, then. To business.”
They walked up to the manor, and Philip took in his surroundings. Even though his father was Earl of Camden, Philip himself never had lived in such grandeur as Bartley Manor. The sprawling gardens, the gothic windows and archways always made him feel a tingle of awe. He was impressed every time he saw the old mansion.
They were allowed to enter by the butler. The man took them to wait in the drawing room, but since Philip was familiar with the house, he left out a side door to enjoy the hallway of paintings he was so fond of. Leonard had a love of painting himself and so he had made a fine collection in his own home.
Feeling the urge to yawn come over him again, Philip decided to rub his face and slap it to try to get himself to wake up. He turned to the side and kept rubbing as he moved a little down the hallway, desiring more than anything to have a hot cup of tea and a scone.
After another moment, he lifted his hands from his eyes and nearly toppled into a woman, who shrieked in surprise and dropped something to the ground.
Philip was suddenly flooded with embarrassment, and he bent down to assist her. “Oh, do forgive me, Miss. I am terribly sorry. I am half asleep this morning.”
