Page 17 of The Lady
Snaking his hand away from her head and between their bodies, his fingertips sought out the little pearl at the top of her sex. Stroking it once more, Philip watched in fascination as his body claimed her, and Flora floated free. Her neck arched back, her bitten lips parted, and a jubilant gasped outcry issued forth from her. The grip of her nails into his back were sharp for one brief moment as her inner sheath tightened entirely around him, and Philip lost himself inside her. His own cry joined hers and then blackness claimed him.
It wasmorning when Philip made himself face what had occurred the night before. At least in the comforting dark and quiet of the previous evening, it had just been the two of them. Now in the harsh realities of daytime, as they headed onwards to Langley Manor, he could no longer pretend it was nothing.
Surely, Lady Flora had to consider themselves engaged? The problem was, of course, his mother’s threat.
“I suppose you will want to call on the steward’s wife,” Lady Flora was saying. It did not help that, since he had torn her chemise yesterday, she was dressed in a green day gown, sans the undergarments, and now all Philip could think of was the pure silk gilding over her bare flesh. It was very tricky to focus on her words. “I have forgot the poor woman’s name. But whilst you are there, I should probably make my way to Margot and ensure everything is made ready for our arrival.”
“Turbot.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“My brother’s steward, he is called Turbot.”
“Is that not a type of fish?”
“I believe so.”
“Unfortunate your mother has not hightailed it with the salmon. That might be less scandalous. A better thought of fish.”
“Indeed.”
“Oh, dear that was a joke. It might have been an especially good one, but I was trying to lighten the mood,” Flora said, leaning closer, “Are you quite yourself, Philip?”
He was a damned cur. That was what he wanted to tell her. He was no better than his brother or mother. Of course, he wanted to do the honourable thing, but should his duty to fix his mother’s affair mean he sacrifice all to mend the dowager’s mistake?
“I am looking forward to reaching the manor house,” Philip said, sounding as stuffy as he possibly could. His punishment should be that he be made to walk the rest of the way, but to his surprise Lady Flora simply nodded.
“Yes, I often feel that way about the Langley Manor. There is something so homely about the place. Which is strange given its size.”
Philip doubted she would feel this way when he finally mounted up the courage to show her his mother’s letter, and how the dowager’s affair was threatening the security and tranquillity of the Manor. Or would it be better shown first to his brother? Or even Lady Langley—who might have some feminine advice he had not previously considered. The letter seemed to fidget where it lay in the confines of his jacket pocket, and not for the first time, Philip cursed his mother for the unfair hand she had dealt him.
Despite this, Lady Flora interlinked her fingers with his and leant on his shoulder seemingly unconcerned by his attitude, and they passed the next few hours in relative silence whilst he tried desperately to think of a suitable answer, that would not involve abandoning the woman he had just made love to. The lady who’d fairly enthralled him, and who he doubted he would ever be able to forget.
“There we are.” Her voice was low and a touch throaty, and Philip had to look away from Flora to where she was pointing out of the window. In the distance, he could see along through the trees the shape of his brother’s palatial manor house taking shape. Its white stone façade glinted majestically, light from the summer sun glistening of the creamy stones, and the grand lake just before the mansion house. Their carriage carried them onwards down the path until they were before the opulent front steps, surrounded by the jutting sides of the building.
Next to him, Flora straightened and put some needed distance between the two of them. As Philip stepped outside, he was surprised to see Margot emerge onto the front steps, her pregnant stomach proceeding her, in her wake came a harassed young matron, who looked decidedly worse for the wear.
“Pip,” Margot called out waving, using his brother’s nickname for him. She had fine dark hair and eyes, an elegant figure at eight months gone, and the kind of intelligence that would never leave her face. Philip was thankful she stayed on the top steps whilst Flora descended from the carriage. “Oh, I hoped…” Her voice trailed off as she rallied, realising her husband has not journeyed with them. “Lady Flora, how good of you to come.” Margot stretched her hand out towards Flora, all smiling welcome. “This is Mrs. Turbot. I think you have heard of her husband.”
Mrs. Turbot’s bottom lip shook, and Philip saw that Flora gave her a sympathetic nod of greeting. “We are here to help inwhatever way we can.” Flora glanced at the two women. “In what I am sure is circumstances beyond both of your control.”
“The twins have at least provided lively entertainment,” Margot said drily. Her reference to her errant and wild sons, his nephews. With his conscience pricking, Philip realised he had not seen either boy in quite some time, and the next few days would hardly give him time to.
“My dear Timothy is fond of them,” Mrs. Turbot said listlessly. “He is only six, but he admires the older boys immensely.”
Margot shot her a worried look before saying with a forced sense of camaraderie, “Let us get inside. The doctor insists I am on my feet and walking, but I prefer to be sat somewhere cosy. I told Cook that you would be on your way, Pip, and he’s baked your favourite. Strawberry tart.”
The countess beckoned them all to follow her inside the manor. Around them Philip could hear the hullabaloo of the servants, distantly the sound of his nephews playing presumably with young Timothy, and the general cheer of a happy household. The only sour note was the poor abandoned Mrs. Turbot who looked ready to cry most ardently. An elderly servant, Mrs. Barnes the housekeeper, ushered them into the nearest parlour. It was one built for comfort rather than formality, and Margot sank into a seat and gestured towards the tea things.
“Lady Flora, will you take a cup or prefer to unpack first?”
“Because we left in such a hurry, I was forced to leave a great many things behind,” Flora said. “I hope to borrow an item or two from you, dear, until Langley arrives with my maid and trunk.”
“Of course, of course. Mrs. Barnes, please do take Flora upstairs. You may help yourself to any of mine that fits, butit certainly won’t be suitable for me, at least not for a while.” Margot laughed.
Lady Flora kissed Margot’s cheek and slipped out of the parlour with Mrs. Barnes.
As much as he knew duty, and his mother’s missive, meant he had to stay in the parlour, Philip could not help wishing he might be able to follow after Flora. Margot caught the direction of his gaze, his look at Flora’s retreating back and his sister-in-law’s eyebrows raised.
