Page 61 of Indecent Desires of a Proper Lady
“A kiss is never just a kiss, Brother. I thought you should know this, but I see I will have to teach you.” Edward put his glass down and crossed his arms as he turned to his brother. “Certainly, a kiss can be a kiss, but either it means there is something more there, an underlying passion or perhaps even a deep love or lust, but there is also a kiss of surprise, one that was unexpected by one or both parties. There could be another reason for the kiss entirely.”
Philip watched his brother with one eye. The whiskey was affecting his mind and ability to understand clearly. “You think there could really be the possibility that it was not a true kiss? I admit I had thought of it, but I was too angry. Too afraid that she had suddenly changed her mind.”
Edward shrugged as if he did not even believe in the words he had just uttered. “Anything is possible, correct? I think you should have waited for an explanation.”
Philip breathed out, feeling the regret that had been knocking on the door of his heart threaten to emerge. He nearly choked on it. The only words he could bear to utter were, “I see.”
Edward nodded. “It is not too late. You could always go back to Bartley Manor and get that explanation.”
“It would be too shameful, I think, after all that has happened.” That, at least, he knew. He could not go groveling back to Margaret. But a seed of doubt had been planted. What if there was some explanation that did not mean Margaret had betrayed him and was still in love with Charles?
After a moment, he shook his head. No, he knew what he saw. Edward sighed. “Well, it is, of course, up to you, Brother. I for one, will continue to kiss my women with only the worst of intentions possible.”
Philip smirked behind his whiskey glass. Whether or not his brother was an arse, he was good for entertainment. And tonight he had been good for advice too. At least it had set his mind to thinking.
“So, what will you do about your friend in debt? Do you mean to continue to help him?”
An uneasiness spread over Philip’s body. He nearly started scratching at his arms and neck to be rid of it. He was torn. “I find that I do not know what I will do. On one hand, why should I help him? When it is he who has been the ruin of my life? But on the other hand, his very life could be in danger. If I know something, I know that I should share it. I meant to speak to Leonard today, but now, I think I should wait.”
Edward nodded in his usual, silent way, as if he knew something that others did not. “Do what suits you. If your friend dies because of it, then so be it. It was his fault anyway.”
Philip glared at Edward, and Edward merely chuckled. “No, Brother. Do what you feel is right. For that is what you always do anyway.” He stood, drowning the last drop of whiskey from his glass. In an uncharacteristic move, Edward placed a hand on Philip’s shoulder as he turned to go. Philip was silent as his brother said, “You are a good man, Philip. I am sorry that this has happened to you. But do not linger long on it. You either make it up with Margaret or move on with your life. You have so much ahead of you. Do not let your despair drown you.”
With that, Edward was gone, and Philip was left in front of the flames, his whole world spun and turned around in front of him. He wasn’t sure what to be shocked about first. Either the fact that his brother, his narcissistic, non-committing brother had just given him advice on relationships or that he had actually advised him to speak to Margaret and not just find himself another woman!
He settled further into his chair, sipping at his whiskey. He still wasn’t sure what to do, but somehow, his bastard of a brother had made him feel just the tiniest bit better. Tomorrow would be a new day.
* * *
Margaret had spent the entire morning writing. She had not written for a few days; she had been in such a distracted tizzy due to Charles’ attentions, and so now the unwritten words had flooded her mind and were rolling out in waves as she hurried to write them on the page. She had to do something while her heart ached for Philip and what their future might hold. She had to distract herself in some way. She refused to succumb to despair and shut life out as she had done after her father’s death.
Her story was nearly finished, and it was like a living being in front of her, in her hands, and she could not wait to place it in the hand of the publisher.
Thoughts of the publisher brought to mind the kind, smiling Philip who had offered his help to her, but she shook his image aside, wanting to focus entirely on her story. In her initial wave of despair at his departure, she had considered giving her characters tragic endings, in order to find someone to commiserate with her grief, but her discussion with Juliet had set her on a path. If she wanted her story to end well, then she could control it, just as she could attempt to with her own life.
Philip Winston was the love of her life. She would not let him simply walk out of her life and her arms just because he was under some incorrect notion. She even shook her head as she wrote, to give herself courage. Her characters were finding each other, seeking forgiveness from the other, and finding their resolution.
There was a knock at the door. “Margaret! Come, Sarah has arrived. We will organize our next steps.” She grinned and winked. “Come to the garden. According to little George, lemonade is the best possible beverage for making plans.”
Margaret couldn’t help but laugh. Hope was swelling in her breast. She refused to fall prey to despair so deeply again. It had stolen so much from her already, and she would not be its mistress any longer. “Excellent. I will be with you in a moment. I have merely to write one more sentence, and then the story is finished!”
Juliet clapped. “Margaret, congratulations! You shall have an extra serving then.” Juliet winked. “I think that everything will be fine, dear. You must only believe in what you want.”
Juliet left the room, and in a moment, Margaret wrote the final sentence of the book that had consumed her mind for many weeks. It had been furiously and feverishly written, but that was where it had its beauty. It was raw and full of the love that she had felt unfold in her heart for Philip. It was everything that was them, and even if Philip rejected her apology or her explanation, then she would have this. It would be enough.
She swallowed, trying to keep her brimming sadness at bay. The memory of Philip’s kiss and touch and her anticipation of their engagement and eventual wedding had to be put aside for the moment, despite its difficulty. She walked to the garden, trying to keep her shoulders high.
When she arrived, Sarah gripped her in a tight hug. “Dear Margaret, I am so happy to have come to visit with just us ladies.”
When she sat down, she laughed. “It is always the men about us, ruining our fun.” She winked at the other two women. “I heard only a bit of what we will discuss today from Juliet’s invitation, but I would love to hear more. I am at your service, both of you. What shall we do?” She leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement.
Juliet laughed as well and turned to Margaret for a moment. “Well, there is a bit of a situation with our dear Mr. Winston.”
Sarah frowned. “What kind of situation?”
Juliet glanced timidly at Margaret, and Margaret, fiddling with her hands nervously, cleared her throat. “I shall tell you everything. We are among friends.” She explained to Sarah what had happened and what Philip had seen. During her tale, Sarah had frowned even deeper and clicked her tongue with sadness.
“Margaret, I am so sorry. And you have not had a chance to explain yourself?”
