Page 15 of The Lady
“Silvester—”
For the first time Langley looked serious, he drew from the pocket of his jacket a letter and handed it over to Philip. A note of sincerity made his voice rich as he stared at his younger brother until Flora felt she was the one interrupting.
Philip glanced up from the letter. “When did Mother scarper?”
“Three days ago,” Langley said. “I meant to arrive and tell you promptly.” He glanced sideways at Flora with an understanding smile, “But the pair of you looked so happy, carrying on in the chair… that if you were both celebrating something… But the deed is done then, and I’ve told you.” He looked at Flora. “She has run off with my steward, having put it about that she was dying. Our mother is nothing if not dramatic.”
Flora wished she had not remained to hear such news. Wished she had picked any other day to try to foster herself on Philip. Or that she could somehow remove the pain of his mother’s actions, yes that would be a preferable action. She tooka tentative step towards the door, not knowing what she should do, but feeling certain it was best to leave the brothers in peace.
Glancing around, Philip’s pained expression stopped her in her tracks. She could not leave him now. “What can I do?”
“Say you’ll come with me to the estate.”
Flora nodded. “Of course.”
“The issue is my steward is married,” Langley said. “His wife and son live on the estate...”
“We must help her and see if we can force our mother to return.” Philip held on to the letter, brandishing it up. “Do you believe her?”
Langley sighed and bit his lip, “I’ve never known if I could believe Mother. But I would sincerely appreciate both of your presence on the estate whilst we decide the next best course of action.”
Flora nodded and said, “We will depart at once.”
Langley’s Hampshireestate was located just south of Beauworth, amongst the pleasing, verdant hills, handsome bushy green trees, hedgerows, and mellow streams. The house itself was a modern manor constructed in the last sixty years by Langley’s grandfather, with none of the old haunting elements that Flora associated with her family home in Cornwall. No, Langley Manor was everything a modern country estate should be, stretched over two floors, numbering thirty bedrooms, with an orangery attached to the side of it. The only drawback Flora could see was how far it was from London, just over seventy miles.
The first hour had been spent in silence. Mrs. Wotton had packed up a pleasing array of foods for them to take, although neither of them had touched it as of yet.
Langley had returned to his own townhouse with an assortment of letters to write since he knew a fair number of men to contact and wished to hire a detective. He promised to be homeward bound for Hampshire on the morrow, along with Flora’s own maid and some of her clothes, so Flora would not feel the loss too dearly.
Having set off late in the day, Flora and Philip would by no means reach Langley Manor by nightfall. But as the sun set around their private coach, Flora became all too aware that neither of them had spoken for what felt like an age.
She could, she supposed, bring up the incoming scandal of his mother. If not, then perhaps she might raise the topic of their kiss this morning. And if not that because she was too much of a coward, then she needed to find out what was their plan for this evening.
When Philip broke the silence, she was so grateful. “I do not mean for us to forget what occurred between us. Nonetheless, given what we will have to contend with, perhaps it is better we do not make any mention of…”
“Of our kiss?” Flora asked. He was the one who had brought it up, and relief flooded through her. “Indeed, we might even attribute it to a moment of madness.”
“No, I do not...” Philip reached for the picnic basket and pulled out one of the sandwiches. “Especially not since my brother has witnessed…”
“If anyone should be able to keep a secret, then it should be Lord Langley.” Flora accepted the proffered sandwich and bit into it. “Do you wish to tell me what the letter said? The one Langley showed you? Was it from your mother or the man she has left with?”
“She made me an offer.” Philip raised his gaze, and Flora could not look away from him. There was a broodiness, alongside a sadness she had not seen in him before. “If I finally vanish from polite society, she will send Langley’s steward home.”
A frown creased Flora’s forehead as she tried to reason out the dowager’s decision-making. Finally, she shook her head. “I do not understand her.”
“She hates me,” Philip said, “because my existence ruins her reputation. My bastardy reveals her affair. If I disappear, then she might be accepted one more amongst her cronies.”
Reaching closer, Flora interlinked their fingers. “Then she is a fool.”
Despite the growing dark, she thought she saw a tentative smile on Philip’s dear face. But before she offered him more words of kindness there came an outcry, and the coach started to slow.
“I believe we are at the agreed upon accommodation.” He pulled away from her grasp and hastily climbed down away from her.
The next ten minutes passed easily enough as they were shown into the neat little parlour wallpapered in duck-egg blue, with a delightful spread of onion soup, thickly cut bread, and a hearty-looking ale. The innkeeper went off to arrange a change of horses. Despite having little in the way of luggage, Flora doubted, in such a remote and quiet inn, she would see any of her acquaintance and there seemed to be little risk to her reputation. In fact, as she finished her meal in private, she dwelt on the fact that, since the accommodation had been arranged by Langley, it would be highly suitable. She knew the man had exquisite taste despite his humour and occasional japes.
When the innkeeper, Mr. Pauls, took her upstairs, she found herself tired and more than ready for bed. The jowly Mr. Paulswished the couple a good night. However, on pushing open the door, Flora was less amused to see there was only one bed in the handsome chamber.
All of her earlier seduction plans reasserted themselves.
