Читать книгу The Unexpected Heiress - Kaitlin O'Riley - Страница 12

4

At a Loss for Words

Phillip Sinclair, the Earl of Waverly, idly watched the lovely young woman leave the bookshop with the two small children at her side.

There was something about her . . .

She was quite beautiful, with sparkling blue eyes and thick, chestnut hair. The kind of hair he knew would be silky smooth and he would want to run his fingers through. She had a little, turned-up nose and the most luscious lips he’d ever seen. He was positive that kind of mouth was designed specifically to be kissed, while her porcelain skin and gorgeous figure had his mind picturing her with far less clothing on.

But it was more than just her beauty that intrigued him, for he had known plenty of beautiful women. There was something else about her.... She wasn’t English. That was for certain. She reminded him a little of his cousin, Sara Fleming, in that regard. They had the same accent. American. That was it! She hadn’t been in awe of him, as most women were. The girl was definitely American.

Anyway, it had been a diverting little flirtation. He shrugged and went back to leaning on the counter.

“You get prettier every time I see you, Hattie,” he murmured lazily.

The young attendant who worked at the shop blushed, her soft cheeks reddening just a bit. She was a fetching girl with fair hair and delicate features. Not a beauty like the woman he’d just had a staring contest with, but adorable in her own way.

Hattie blushed at his compliment, “Why, Lord Waverly! You turn my head with the things you say.”

“Ignore my son, Hattie. He’s an incorrigible scoundrel.”

Phillip stood immediately and straightened his shoulders at his mother’s approach. Colette Sinclair, the Marchioness of Stancliff, pulled her gloves on as she neared, giving Phillip a hard glance.

“I’ve asked you not to flirt with the staff, Phillip,” she admonished, pursing her lips.

“Oh, I don’t mind, my lady.” Hattie grinned helplessly at him. “Not at all.”

Phillip smiled back before he gave the young woman an exaggerated bow. “You have my deepest and most humble apologies, miss.”

“You don’t have to accept his apology, Hattie. He doesn’t deserve it.” His mother gave him an annoyed look. “Have a good afternoon, Hattie. I shall be at the other shop for a few hours on Monday if you need me. But I’ll be back here on Tuesday to go over the new shipment of writing papers.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good afternoon, Hattie.” Phillip flashed her a secret grin before he held the door open for his mother and followed her out.

When they were settled in their carriage, his mother lit into him. And he knew he had it coming.

“Honestly, Phillip, I’ve warned you before about how you speak to the staff at our shops. So has your aunt Paulette. It is simply not appropriate. These women are in our employ and under our care, and you must treat all of them with the utmost respect.”

“I am sorry, Mother. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It won’t happen again. You have my word.”

If his words sounded a little monotonous, it was because he had uttered this standard apology before. He had it memorized by rote.

Phillip blamed this recent lapse in judgment on the encounter with the beauty who had just purchased a copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles. She was a literary type and that kind didn’t usually interest him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Who was she, and what was she doing in London?

He’d been about to speak to her when the children interrupted. Were they her siblings? They had called her Merry. Merry. He liked the sound of it. The name suited her somehow. It was light and pretty and musical.

“Your word,” his mother scoffed. “Your word hasn’t been worth very much lately.”

His thoughts of the lovely and mysterious Merry were interrupted by the tone of his mother’s voice.

She was still upset with him about the other night. Phillip had already been given yet another dressing down from his father last evening, but his mother still hadn’t had her say in the matter. He’d simply been instructed to pick her up from the bookshop this afternoon. Knowing that he would be her captive audience in the carriage, he had steeled himself for another admonishment about his deplorable behavior. He knew exactly what she would say.

He’d been lazy. He’d been going out too often and staying out too late. He’d been running with a fast, disreputable crowd. He’d been spending too much time with women of a certain reputation. He’d been gambling and drinking too much.

It was time to reform his ways. It was time for him to settle down. It was time for him to take on more responsibility. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was the heir. He had to uphold his duty. He had a reputation to maintain. He owed it to the family.

Yes, Phillip had heard it all before.

Dozens and dozens and dozens of times.

And he had no excuse or reason for any of his actions. He didn’t know why he was behaving as he was. Except . . . why not? He was simply having some fun. Yes, perhaps he was pushing the limits of respectability more than he should, but what difference did it make? He was the heir. One day, all the duties and responsibilities would be his and his alone. He would take up the reins of respectability then.

So what did it matter if he enjoyed himself in the meantime? He wasn’t hurting anyone. He’d studied hard at university, attending Oxford as his father had, and he’d earned some time to enjoy himself now. There was still plenty of time before his life had to become boring and serious.

Phillip sighed heavily, looking out the window while waiting for his mother to give him the scolding about what a disappointment he’d been lately.

He bristled at being judged so harshly. For some reason, whenever his mother was angry with him, it made him feel even more contrary. Almost as if he wanted to make her angrier. He braced himself for the onslaught of recriminations that were sure to come. But as the carriage rolled along toward Devon House, his mother remained oddly silent.

Phillip glanced at her. She was wiping tears from her eyes with her lacy monogrammed handkerchief. Stunned, he couldn’t recall ever seeing his mother cry before.

“Mother? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Colette Hamilton Sinclair had never been anything less than a pillar of strength. And he’d always been a bit in awe of her. His mother wasn’t like most mothers. Hell, she wasn’t even like most women!

She was a very special lady, indeed.

He knew her whole history. How she and her four sisters grew up living above the bookstore their father owned, Hamilton’s Book Shoppe. How Colette had struggled to keep the shop going after their father died and worked to support her sisters. Phillip had heard how his father came into the shop one day and had fallen in love with her. And even though his mother obviously didn’t need to work after she married him and became a marchioness, she loved the bookshop so much that she continued to manage it.

In fact, she and her sisters opened a second bookshop in London and one in Dublin as well, and just launched a children’s bookshop a few months ago with his cousin Mara. The Hamilton bookstores were innovative, successful, and only hired women to work in them.

Phillip was quite proud of his mother and all that she had accomplished, in spite of being a marchioness. His mother was a strong, independent, intelligent and beautiful woman, and he adored her all the more for it. He’d always been proud of her and her sisters.

To see her crying now confounded him and filled him with worry.

“Mother?” he asked again.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” she said in a voice so filled with sorrow his heart constricted in his chest.

“What are you saying, Mother?”

A tearful sigh escaped her. “It seems that I have failed you as a mother.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?” he questioned, a sense of panic welling in his chest.

She shook her head wearily.

“I have failed you as a mother somehow, and I accept my part in this. You are the way you are because I didn’t spend enough time with you when you were a child. I was always judged by everyone who knew me for keeping the bookstores and continuing with my work. Even my own mother disapproved of me. I was told I wasn’t feminine enough and that I wasn’t devoting myself to my husband and children. They told me that I was neglecting my motherly duties and that I wasn’t spending enough time at home with you and Simon.”

A little sob escaped her, and she took a breath before she continued.

“Although your father never believed that. Lucien has always agreed with me and encouraged me to do what I loved. I was quite fortunate in that respect. But perhaps he was wrong . . . and I was dreadfully wrong, and everyone else was right after all . . .”

Phillip remained silent as tears slid down her cheeks.

His mother looked at him, placing her gloved hand over his.

“I’ve been very worried about you, Phillip. I always believed that I had set a good example for you with my work at the bookshops. An example of responsibility, respect, hard work, and dedication. But I don’t see those qualities in you. Somehow, I must have done something terribly wrong.”

Phillip’s heart sank. A deep feeling of shame overcame him. His mother blamed herself for his bad behavior.

“Mother, that’s not possible,” he protested vociferously, defending her. “You’ve been a wonderful mother. Loving, kind, and understanding. Anyone would be lucky to have Colette Hamilton Sinclair as their mother.”

She glanced at him, tears welling in her eyes once again. “I should have stayed home and taken better care of you. I should have been a better mother.”

“That’s quite enough now, Mother.” He patted her shoulder. “You mustn’t talk this way, for you’ve done nothing wrong. You have been a model mother. And my behavior of late, although not a stellar example of proper deportment, is in no way a reflection of your mothering. I’m just having a bit of fun before I settle down. There’s nothing to fuss over.”

His mother sniffed. “But you’ve taken up with that Vickers woman. It’s such a scandal, Phillip. The things people are saying about her . . .”

Phillip withdrew his arm from her shoulder and looked away from his mother.

Lady Katherine Vickers elicited strong opinions within polite society, there was no doubt about it. But that was what made her so exciting. She was irreverent and witty and audacious. Not to mention wickedly seductive, with bedroom skills too wonderful to believe.

“I just don’t understand how you can associate with a woman like that.”

He turned and glared at her, a bit of anger rising within his chest. “A woman like what, Mother? A widow? A beautiful woman who is alone through no fault of her own? You hold her in low regard because her husband died two years ago, and she has chosen not to remarry? You judge her, yet you don’t even know her.”

“I know enough of her,” Colette shot back at him, her tears disappearing. “Lord Vickers married her in his dotage. She was a stage actress from who knows where when he picked her up. She’s not good enough for you.”

“I would have thought that you, Mother, of all people, would be the last to look down upon someone because they were not high born.”

His mother was the daughter of a tradesman and she was raised above a bookshop, for crying out loud! She ought to have more sympathy and understanding for Katherine.

“If it were only just that, Phillip!” she cried, becoming irate. “Lady—and I use that title very lightly—Vickers has bedded just about every male in town, married and unmarried. I have met her on occasion, and she is coarse, common, and rude. I won’t have it! I won’t have her in our house or as a part of our family!”

“So that’s what all this is about? You don’t want me to marry her? Who said anything about my marrying Lady Vickers?”

Honestly, his mother was hysterical over nothing. Phillip’s annoyance grew at her state of panic. He was having a glorious time with Katherine, but the matter of marriage had not once entered his mind.

“Everyone is saying it, Phillip, because she has been saying it!”

Dumbfounded, Phillip stared at his mother. “What?”

“Apparently, your lady has been telling her closest friends that the two of you have been making plans to marry soon. Lady Abbott mentioned it to me earlier today when she came by the shop. And believe me, if Lady Abbott knows about it, then everyone in London knows, and I just hope . . .”

As his mother continued her little tirade, Phillip’s heart leapt at the thought of having Lady Katherine Vickers as his wife. He hadn’t believed she was serious about him in any way up until now! He’d assumed they were simply having a deliciously sinful romp together that would run its eventual course and come to an amicable end in due time.

But marriage? With Katherine? He’d never even considered it a remote possibility.

Yet now that he knew that she had not only considered wedding him, but she expected it, his entire perspective changed. Marriage with Katherine? It would never be dull, that was for certain, and there would be definite advantages to having her permanently in his life.

His chest swelled with pride at the very thought of her wanting to be his wife. He hadn’t thought she wanted to remarry after her disastrous first marriage, and he was oddly touched by her sentimentality. She must love him to wish to marry him! The beautiful and sophisticated Lady Katherine Vickers was in love with him and wanted to be his wife! It was like a miracle.

She wanted him.

The novel notion set his heart to pounding. He felt almost giddy with excitement.

“Phillip, would you please stop smiling like an idiot and answer me?”

He blinked in surprise at his mother, who glared at him. She was clearly unhappy with the situation, but at least she was no longer crying and blaming herself. He could not conscience that.

“Forgive me. What did you say?” he questioned, still a bit bemused.

“I asked if you were planning to marry that woman.” Her delicate eyebrows furrowed with worry and disbelief. “Is it true?”

Phillip knew the easiest, and safest, course of action was to tell his mother that the rumor wasn’t true. That Katherine had been speaking out of turn. That this was the first he’d even heard of it. But suddenly he wanted the rumor to be true. He loved the idea of Lady Katherine Vickers loving him and wanting to be his wife. And he couldn’t wait to talk to her about it.

The carriage came to a stop in front of Devon House.

“What if it is true?” he asked with a careless shrug. “Would that be so terrible?”

“Oh, Phillip! You can’t be serious! She will ruin you, humiliate you, and break your heart. She would never be faithful to you nor would she be a fit mother. You can’t wish to tie yourself to a woman like that!”

There was some validity to her words. There was no denying that. But he didn’t wish to acknowledge her accuracy. He was too annoyed with her.

“Perhaps I do.”

A groom, dressed in the Devon House livery, opened the carriage door to help his mother down. Ignoring her irate and astonished expression, Phillip watched her enter the house and then instructed the driver to continue on.

He certainly wasn’t going home tonight.