Page 8 of The Lady
“Thank you, Mrs. Wotton, I will go through to her ladyship immediately. Can you send Alice up to the front room with some tea?”
“Of course, sir.”
With a quick step, Philip headed towards Lady Flora, walking through the door and then onwards down the hallway. He could tell that Mrs. Wotton had questions for him, the older woman curious about who might own such a smart card, and yet who might call directly on the doctor—rather than commanding Philip to come to her.
On entering his front room, Philip felt a sudden nervous energy rush through him. Would such a respectable, fine lady judge the simplicity of his Bloomsbury home? Would Lady Flora consider it beneath her sensibilities? The furniture, which had always seemed perfectly acceptable, were made of oak, and the seats were decorated in a fine sprigged muslin, ordered from Trawlers in Piccadilly. It had seemed entirely elegant in Philip’s eyes until now, but he feared it was not suitable for the likes of her.
Lady Flora stood in the middle of the room, dressed beautifully in his humble opinion. She wore a delicate walking dress of forest green, whose silk skirt flowed down her long legs, and atop her head there was a tiny, plumed hat balanced on her gleaming curls. Whilst she was out of place in his home, Philip was suddenly very keen to keep this anomaly in this room—so much so, that any nerves vanished as he focused on this new task.
“Doctor Caton,” she said pleasantly, “forgive this early morning call on my part?—”
“Good morning, my lady. It is always good to see you.”
“I fear it might have been deemed odd on my part, but nonetheless, I had kept you waiting far too long, and I thought this might go missed?—”
“Up before you might be seen by any one of goodton?” His question was a touch more biting than he originally planned it to be, but nonetheless, he assumed that was why she had come at such an unfashionable hour. Or perhaps his anger at his mother, and his own resentment of the situation, was peeking through no matter how much he had tried to ignore it. Why would both of them feel embarrassed by him—and would this extend to other eligible women too?
To his surprise, Lady Flora laughed as if he had made a joke, the sound sending a warm spasm of awareness through hisstomach. “Given that a vast majority of polite society have now departed for the country, I did not consider it a great worry on my part.”
“What a relief for you.” He gestured towards one of the seats and was pleased when she sat down, arranging her skirts so they fell in a pleasing manner. Hastily he looked away and sank into the opposite chair. “Why have you not likewise left Town?”
Whilst the furniture and setting might have been precisely chosen out, he hardly spent any time in this room—it was meant for company and of that he had very little need for it.
“Why to help you of course.” She was watching him with a bright ferocity that made him certain Lady Flora was plotting something wilder that her ducal brother would not approve of. It was clear that Ashmore would find any association between them entirely erroneous.
It was then that Alice, his housemaid, slipped into the room with the tea tray. Mrs. Wotton had added an assortment of filbert biscuits too, which mitigated the simplicity of the arrangement a little. The maid brought it over to Lady Flora’s side, and the lady smiled encouragingly at the girl but did not resume her talk until they were alone again.
“I have dwelt on how to manage your particular problem—from writing to the best papers and placing an advert for a bride.” She laughed at the concept, and Philip marvelled that she could find the entire situation as amusing as she seemed to. Did she not see that in seeking matrimony he was desperate, that he had failed on his own part, and this was a source of embarrassment for him?
“I do not believe that method is?—”
“No, it is not ideal.”
He would have to admit as much. “This is not an easy matter for me, my lady.”
“I do not treat it as such.”
“In the effort of securing a match, I do not approach it with the lightness that you might be used to. It is not a game. I am searching for a woman of intellect who will be comfortable with marrying a man like myself. One with some means but…” How would he explain he was unlovable to such a beloved sister, friend, aunt, like herself? Would Lady Flora be capable of grasping this? She glided through life on a cloud with little to trouble her, save perhaps which fashionable gown she should don for her next party. “I do not wish to disillusion any woman with an offer which I cannot fulfil.”
“I am certain, if those are your only requirements, we can locate you a bride.”
“I do not offer false promises of love or?—”
“Or fidelity?”
“Of course I would always be faithful,” Philip spluttered, surprised by Lady Flora’s illusion to more nefarious activities.
“Well then, you differ from a great many men who proclaim that such loyalties should only be applicable to women.”
“I am not like most men,” Philip said, thinking of the pile of letters two doors away that demonstrated he was not the sort of man even a mother could love.
“So, I gather,” came Lady Flora’s rather snippy reply. She sucked in a breath and then said, “I have in fact been thinking now might well be the best time to search for a bride, as there is an excess of recently unmarried ladies who did not find a match in the Season.”
“I do think a lady who might have wed a lord would think twice about marrying me.”
“I did not mean you should pursue the debutantes, especially given your… reputation amongst their stepmothers and aunts.”
A rush of relief pounded through Philip despite the unfair charge of his affairs. Despite all his efforts to dispel thisreputation, it seemed Lady Flora could not be swayed in her viewpoint.
