Page 84 of Miss Determined
Trevor took her hand in both of his. “I cannot ask you to endure exile with me.”
“You don’t have to ask,” Lissa said gently, because clearly, Trevor needed the explanation, and that broke her heart. “If you are with me, it’s not exile, Trevor. The exile is here, in Mayfair, where everybody is playing a role, solicitors collect gossip to use against their own clients, and you could not be seen knocking on my front door.”
“I don’t want Purvis connecting us.”
“I want the whole world to know we’re connected, but Purvis is a menace, and for the sake of the greater good, he must be stopped.”
A rap on the door heralded a footman bearing a tea tray. “Mrs. DeWitt will be along in a moment,” he said. “She and Cook are in negotiations over tonight’s sauce. Shall I pour, miss?”
Mama was taking a leaf from Jeanette Dorning’s book, apparently. “No need. If you could comment at length on the sauces under discussion, that would be appreciated.”
The footman, who was a bit long in the tooth for his post, set down the tray. “I have detailed and contrary opinions about sauces, miss. I will give the ladies the benefit of my insights.” He bowed and closed the door behind him.
“Leave it closed, please,” Trevor said, getting to his feet. “The privacy is warranted.”
“Are you about to propose?”
Lissa’s attempt at levity earned an odd glance from her beloved.
“Not quite yet. I am about to tell you that I have a sibling, a fellow who was disowned at birth because of insignificant infirmities. Or perhaps at birth, those infirmities were more evident. In any case, he was also a reticent child who could not crawl at the appointed time and did not properly resemble his father—our father—and thus he was banished to obscurity.”
“Purvis told you this?”
“Flung the news at me as if…” Trevor gazed out at the garden. “As if I’d be appalled to learn that I share my birthright with another. As if I could be shamed by the knowledge that another man treasures my mother’s memory as I do. Iamashamed—of my father’s unbridled vanity—but if I thwart Purvis, I do so knowing my brother’s situation could become public. My brother is shy andinnocent…”
Lissa rose, because if ever a man needed to know he was not alone, not exiled by what burdened him, it was Trevor.
She slipped an arm around his waist. “You know your sibling?”
“You introduced us.” Trevor’s arm lay lightly over her shoulders, as if he was ready to let her go.
To whom had Lissa…?
“Phillip,” she said, the name igniting joy and wonder in her heart. “You both stir your tea the same way, and you cock your head to the left when you are considering an idea that must be given its due despite your own notions to the contrary. That’s why the marchioness’s portrait hung in the Lark’s Nest family parlor.LordPhillip. Does he know?”
“If he does, he said nothing, and I must respect his silence. I have a week to figure out a way to defeat Purvis, and then I’m to make a spectacle of myself courting Miss Brompton. She could probably weather scandal handily enough, but I gather her family is at risk, and she is loyal to them.”
“You and she would make a very impressive couple.”
“Oh, right. And Purvis can then loot two fortunes at the same time. I won’t have it, Amaryllis, but the measures I’ve put in place to ensnare Purvis have not yet borne sufficient fruit.”
“You have a week?”
“I’ve told Purvis I’m off to pout and brood at the family seat while I finish mourning and plot a courtship.”
Lissa shifted to wrap her arms around him, and so what if the gardener or the neighbors across the alley or God Almighty saw her hugging her intended by the window?
“Trevor, I understand that you feel obligated to protect me, Miss Brompton, her family, Phillip, and probably Jacques, too, but what do youwant?”
He rested his cheek against her crown. “I want to be honorable. To be your honorable husband. To be Phillip’s honorable brother. To not be my father. I have retreated from his example as often and far as I possibly can, until…” He looped his arms around her shoulders and spoke near her ear. “I retreat, Amaryllis. That’s what I do.”
One did not argue with a man bent on self-castigation, not until he’d finished with his foolishness.
“You retreated to Crosspatch Corners?”
“Verily. That was my attempt to avoid the Season and the matchmaking. I retreated to the Continent for the same purpose and because nobody should vote his seat when he’s not even an adult. I retreated to public school when Papa and his tutors became more than I could stomach—Jeanette argued my case and packed my bags for me, bless her. I retreated to university and then from university when the venery and concerted masculine stupidity were too much. Right now, I want to retreat with you to France.”
“A fine notion. I’ve always wanted to go.”
