Page 5 of Her Notorious Rake
“She was tall, well-dressed. There’s her carriage,” Gemma pointed at the vehicle. It reminded her of London carriages, which she didn’t even know she missed.
Iris flung the door open and then let out a gasp as she stared, wide-eyed, at the woman standing on their doorstep.
“Iris,” the woman said coolly. She knew Mother?
“Philippa,” Iris stuttered. “We weren’t expecting you.” She let out a shrill laugh, the one she used when she became nervous.
“Well,” the woman plucked at her gloves, straightening them. “That’s hardly a surprise since you likely never read any of my letters. I expect that they’ve all been burnt.” She nodded to the fire blazing in the nearby hearth.
“No—not at all. But I’m afraid you’re—”
“I’m not mistaken. I’ve been writing letters this entire time, and not a word from my own brother’s wife.”
“Brother’s wife,” Gemma echoed, something clicking in her head. “Youare Aunt Philippa? Father used to speak of you often.”
Philippa hurried over to her, beaming. “You have his eyes. Almost an exact likeness.” And his mouth. That is a Hayesworth mouth if I ever saw one.”
“What are you doing here, Philippa?” Iris spoke up behind them.
“Why, I’ve come for tea, of course.”
“Let me go have our cook—”
“Iris, please. We all know there is no cook.”
“But—” Iris sputtered. “But of course there is. I don’t knowwhat you mean.”
“Once you’ve asked your mythical cook to prepare us tea and biscuits, I would like to speak to the two of you about a particular matter.”
“Of course. Yes. I’ll be right back.” Iris’s face was bright red as she scurried off.
Now, it was just Gemma and Philippa.
“I don’t think I’ve met you since I was a small child,” Gemma smiled.
“It is a pity, isn’t it? Now, with your mother out of the room, I must know. Have you received any letters from me? Even once?”
“No, we haven’t.”
“I might have known,” Philippa murmured.
When Iris at last returned, the three women sat around the parlor, sipping their tea and nibbling on biscuits. At last, Philippa cleared her throat. “So, it is my understanding that none of my letters reached you, Gemma. And it is no one’s fault but Iris’s. Be that as it may, the sins of the mother are not shared by the daughter. And I have a proposal that I think you would find most interesting. I would like to sponsor you this season in London. You will stay with me, and I will feed and clothe you, and everything else necessary to make you an eye-catching flower on the marriage mart.”
“You want to sponsor me?”
Philippa looked around. “Didn’t I just tell you that?”
“For a spring season in London?”
“Yes. I will spare no expense. It is about time I mend the ties between our families since my brother’s passing. And what better way than to sponsor my niece.”
Gemma’s vision blurred and she toyed with her sleeves. “You want me to come out into London Society?”
“You are a beautiful young woman—comely, in certain ways.No doubt you would get your share of suitors. Perhaps some exceedingly wealthy ones. Send your letter of acceptance to my address,” and Philippa handed them a piece of paper with her address scrawled upon it in elegant penmanship.
Iris and Gemma exchanged a look.
After a sip of tea, Philippa rose from her table to take leave. “Won’t you stay longer?” Iris asked timidly.
