My Last Duchess (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #0.5) - Eloisa James Page 0,96

realize what he’d done. Of course you ran from the house. You, a damsel, taken without the benefit of marriage, my daughter—in a barn.” That seemed to be the worst detail. “I shall never recover from this, never.”

“Papa,” Philippa began, hardly knowing what to say.

Her father jerked his head upright. “I want you to know, dear, that Sir George and I understand entirely why you fled. Entirely. It must have been an awful experience for you. Terrible. Like those suffered by women in wartime, I have no doubt. In the Egyptian campaign, for example—” He stopped and shook his head. “Irrelevant to the present situation.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as terrible as that,” Philippa said tentatively, as her father had never instructed her on the plight of women in wartime.

“No gently bred lady should be introduced to a situation that she instinctively finds distasteful except in the most acceptable circumstances.”

Philippa frowned, and her father frowned back. “In the dark,” he clarified. “In a proper bed, within the sanctity of matrimony, and with the knowledge that your husband respects and admires you, even though the act itself—to wit, consummation of the marriage—is necessarily distasteful to you, if not painful.”

“Oh,” Philippa said. That would have summed up her probable marital relations with Rodney. But it had no relevance for intimacies with Wick.

“As I said, neither of us blames you,” her father repeated.

“Thank you,” Philippa said.

“Your mother would have fled as well.” Her father pulled off his neckcloth and mopped his face with it. “I simply cannot countenance the idiocy of that young man. Idiocy!”

Philippa waited, a sick feeling in her stomach.

“But be that as it may,” her father said, “you have made your bed, albeit in the stables. Did you confide to this Candlewick what happened to you?”

“His name is Berwick, not Candlewick.” But she nodded.

Her father wiped his face again and threw the neckcloth to the floor. “I shall send the man a gratuity. One hundred pounds. In refusing you, he showed the breeding of his paternal lineage. Obviously, he realized that you were slightly cracked because of the horrendous experience you endured. And he responded as a gentleman must. Two hundred pounds,” he added.

“Be that as it may, you’re to marry Rodney immediately,” he continued. “We’ll forget that episode with the castle and the butler ever happened. Rodney is not the man I should have chosen for you; I see that now. And I am sorry. But you know as well as I do, my dear, that all other doors are closed to you at this point.”

To Philippa, his voice seemed to take on a brassy sound, like someone speaking a foreign language. “Papa,” she pleaded. “I cannot marry him. Please.”

“Do you think that your mother wished to remain married to me after our wedding night?”

There was no possible answer to that.

“She did not,” her father said heavily. “The act is horrifying to a delicately bred creature. But we managed, and we loved each other, and there’s no one else in the world I would rather have married.”

“She didn’t have to marry Rodney!” Philippa cried.

“I want your word of honor that you will not run away again, Philippa.”

“Wick might come for me,” she blurted out.

Her father’s eyes softened. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you just say that he refused to marry you?”

She nodded miserably.

“He truly is a gentleman,” he said gently.

“But he might come for me,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “He—He knows how much I detest Rodney, and he loves me.”

“He can’t support you,” her father said, standing up and pulling her into his arms. “Were I he, I would loathe the idea of lowering the woman I loved, a lady, to the level of a servant. Did he say anything of that sort?”

A sob rose in Philippa’s breast.

Her father held her even closer. “I see he did. Well, my dear, the truth of it is that you have met two young men. One of them is a true gentleman, though perhaps his birth is not the best. And the other is no gentleman, though he’s a baronet’s son.”

“P-Please don’t make me marry him,” Philippa managed.

“There’s no choice,” he said, rocking her a little. “You know that, Philippa. There’s no choice. You’ll forget your noble butler in time. Rodney genuinely loves you, for all the boy’s a fool. You could do much worse.”

“I can’t bear it,” Philippa said, sobbing.

“You mustn’t run away,” her father said. “It broke my heart. I aged ten years, sweetpea. I couldn’t bear it if