Page 80 of A Most Unlikely Lady
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‘So you just left?’ Philippa sat in her front parlour, a steaming cup of tea in her hand and a scowl pulling down her crimson lips.
‘What else should I have done? You, of all people, know the depths of my sins, Philippa. I’m the last person who deserves a woman as sweet, brave, and courageous as Ivy.’
‘Good God. You sound as dramatic as a young miss at her first ball. Should I ring for Stokes to bring you some smelling salts?’ She took a sip of tea before placing the dish on the table in front of her.
Edward’s sharp laugh was devoid of any joy. He sat across from her in a velvet wing-back chair, but his frustration made it impossible to remain still. His leg bounced up and down in a manic beat. ‘I thought you would take a little joy in my suffering. After everything I’ve done to you, it must be satisfying.’
Philippa rubbed her thumb and forefinger in endless circles. ‘One would think. But no. I find no joy in your pain, Edward. Unlike some people, age has granted me wisdom.’
‘The great Duchess of Dorsett admits to ageing? Mayhap I do need smelling salts.’
Her eyebrow took wing as she leaned forward. ‘I admit no such thing. I’m merely explaining why my intelligence far surpasses your own.’
‘Ah. Well. Never mind, then. Proving your superiority to me is nothing new.’
‘Exactly. But I do have something new to share.’
Edward felt a sense of dread wash through him. ‘I’m not sure I’m up to hearing it.’ He tried to keep his voice light, but his jest fell short.
Philippa tsked. ‘Brace yourself.’
Edward took a deep breath, exhaled, and nodded for her to proceed.
‘I forgive you, Edward. Not for Liza’s death. And not for what I was forced to endure.’
‘Because those are unforgivable crimes.’
‘No. Because those are not your crimes to carry. I forgive you for telling your father.’
Edward shook his head. The sting of tears threatened as he rejected her words.
Philippa stood and walked to him, crouching down in a shocking display of improper posture and forcing him to meet her gaze. ‘I forgive you, Edward, for the crime of acting like exactly what you were. A stupid boy full of pride. But I have come to realise that is theonlycrime of which you are guilty. The same as every other young lad in London.’
He wouldn’t accept her words. If he let go of his self-hatred, if he accepted Liza’s death was not his to carry, then he would lose that burden and, in doing so, lose part of Liza. It made no sense, but holding his guilt felt like holding her memory. ‘No. It was my fault.’
Philippa covered the hand he fisted on the armrest of his chair. ‘It was not. And it’s time for you to let it go, Edward.’
Bowing his head, Edward allowed the tears to fall. ‘What if I can’t?’
‘You must.’
‘I’m so sorry, Philippa.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘So am I, Edward. But the truth is, everything that occurred after you went to your father in a silly fit of jealousy was beyond your control.’
‘But if I hadn’t said anything?—’
‘Liza would have told your father herself. She was bound and determined to profess our love, even when I warned her of the consequences. And if I was able to convince her to stay quiet, someone else would have discovered us. We were hardly discreet. Just as full of blind confidence as you in our false faith that love would conquer all.’
Philippa’s words slowly sunk into his mind, fracturing long-held beliefs and seismically shifting his understanding of truth. He could imagine Liza striding up to their father, her heart-shaped face full of defiance, declaring her love for Philippa. And their father’s reaction would have been the same. He still would have demanded Liza marry the man of his choosing or be banished to bedlam. If what Philippa said was true, Liza’s fate was inescapable, and Edward was just the pawn who brought it to fruition.
‘So you see, Edward, your actions only hurried along events that were destined to occur.’
As the weight of guilt lifted, the ache of grief rushed in. ‘I miss her. Every day.’
‘Every moment. Yes. I know. But she would never want you to live like this.’
