The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,59

her friend a glare. Abigail had arranged this, clearly, and not told her about it. To surprise her. To keep her from finding some way of getting out of seeing Rhys.

“Lord Leighton,” she said, and wished her voice wasn’t so breathless.

“Mrs…Miss…” He dipped his head. “Phillipa.”

Her knees went weak when he said her name. Damn him. She fought the response and moved to help Abigail with the tea.

“Why?” she hissed out between clenched teeth.

Abigail ignored her and handed her a cup. “Take this to our guest, won’t you, dear?”

Nostrils flaring, Pippa took the cup and brought it to Rhys. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, and she sucked in a breath and nearly dumped the entire thing on him when she snatched her hand away.

“I wanted to get an update from Rhys about all that’s been going on,” Abigail said, motioning for them to sit together on the settee while she took the chair by the fire across from them.

Pippa pursed her lips. Abigail went too far—Pippa was going to have to have words with her later. Still, she took the seat beside Rhys, trying not to let her knees touch his even though he filled the settee with his ridiculous, masculine, wonderful presence.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea before he responded. “I’m not sure what updates there are to share. I’m making final arrangements to pay off the debts on this home so that it may be turned over to you, Abigail.”

Pippa glanced at Abigail. At least in this she could be happy. “I’m so glad you’re retaining the house.”

Abigail smiled. “I’ve told Rhys several times that it’s too extravagant a gift to make, especially since he is also settling with me financially, but he is, as I think you know, insistent.”

Rhys set his cup down and ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. “My brother should have made these arrangements for his wife.”

“Yes, but which one?” Abigail asked with a little laugh. “I’m sure he must have been very confused with all of us plus any other lovers he was collecting on the side.”

Rhys’s mouth thinned and he looked away, almost as if he felt guilty. “Well, it falls to me to take care of all of that. The house was gifted to my brother upon our father’s death. That he borrowed against it to finance all his misdeeds should not affect you. So it will be passed to you as it always should have been. And the allowance is also standard. You must be able to live.”

Pippa felt his anxiety about this topic. She knew what a strain all these arrangements put on him. And yet he did it, without complaint, without hesitation. He took responsibility for something that was not his fault and made amends in ways that would not help him in the future. Because it was right.

Abigail seemed equally as struck, and she smiled at him. “You are too good, Lord Leighton.” She glanced at Pippa, made no effort to hide the look, and then said, “You know, I have forgotten an arrangement I need to make with my staff. Will you two excuse me for a moment?”

She didn’t wait for the response, but swept from the room, shutting the door behind her. Pippa caught her breath and glanced at Rhys.

“She is not very subtle, is she?” he asked with a half-smile.

She shook her head. “No,” she laughed, though she felt suddenly nervous. “She is never that.”

“She’s guessed…something happened between us?” he asked.

She couldn’t tell by his tone what he thought of that, but guilt rippled through her regardless. She had been imprudent in sharing the truth, even if it was just to her friends. Even if saying out loud how she felt and what she’d done had released a pressure valve.

“They are…intelligent,” she said. “And have eyes.”

He nodded. “Yes. I think Owen Gregory guessed something as well. I suppose we aren’t good at hiding it.”

She bent her head. “We will have to become better at it.”

There was a long silence, and she felt his gaze boring into her. Then he sighed. “You look beautiful, Phillipa. Like a dream.”

He stepped toward her and took her hand, letting his thumb stroke over her skin. She shivered as she lifted her eyes to him. There was no denying the intensity in his stare.

“We must fight this, mustn’t we?” she asked, the tone of her voice too breathy. “As much as we don’t