Chapter 34

Thirty-Four

S nap. Phil's foot broke the vine, and she tightened her grip, both grateful and saddened she wore gloves. They would have to be replaced. She looked over her shoulder, finding the distance still too far to jump down. Blindly, she searched for another foothold, and then another. She froze when her hand landed on a partially destroyed spider web. She needed to be away from the vile spider-infested vines. The authors of the novels she'd read never included spiders in the vines when the hero climbed up to save the damsel in distress. Phil pushed the thought out of her mind. She could check for spiders later.

Hands closed about her waist and pulled her from the wall. "Caught you! What are you doing sneaking into the inn?"

"Let me go. I was escaping—" Phil struggled free and turned to face her accuser. "— y-your Grace." Her clumsy curtsy could not have been worse than the front of her dress. Phil swiped dead leaves from it, refusing to consider the number of spiders that could be hiding in the folds and under her skirt.

"And what were you escaping from?" The duke held her elbow firmly, making a second escape unlikely.

"Philippa?" The shout from above caused them both to look up to see Michael leaning out of the window she had exited. "Unhand my daughter, you blackguard." Her father's voice came from the doorway of the inn.

The duke loosened his hold. Phil turned to face the two men storming from the front of the building, her father in the lead. "The Duke of Aylton was assisting me."

"Duke?" Her father stopped short, causing the other man to barrel into him.

The duke gave Phil a sideways glance and raised a brow. "Your Grace, my father, Sir Felton Lightwood, and the answer to your previous question as to what I was escaping from. Father, may I introduce you to his Grace the Duke of Aylton."

"You escaped?" sputtered Mr. Lightwood. Phil had seen that look in her father's eye. She needed to say something quickly before he found a new plan to entrap her.

"Yes, from the room you locked me in claiming Alex needed me. Where is my sister?"

Michael burst from the front door of the inn and wove his way through the onlookers gathered at the edge of the conversation. His gaze swept over her dress, and then over her face. Phil hoped her hair had survived the climb better than the dress. Hopefully, there were no spiders— A shiver wracked her body at the thought.

Michael passed her father and offered his arm. "You're freezing. Let's get you inside."

Phil laid her hand on his offered arm, relishing the support. Would this be the last time? Once he learned of Father's intended deception, she would likely receive the cut direct from both him and his cousin. Then all of her father's hopes for her future would be dashed.

Something tingled on her back.

Spiders.

Her body shuddered. She answered Michael's concerned look with the truth. "Spiders."

"Spiders?"

"In the ivy."

The crowd parted, and he led her to a small private parlor. The duke and her father followed. The innkeeper blocked the others from following, including the man who had been with her father. The innkeeper addressed her. "I'll send in my wife with some tea."

"Thank you."

The four of them stood silent for a moment. Phil knew she should sit first, but the thought of sitting on a spider caught in her skirt kept her upright. What she wouldn't give for a change of clothes and a hairbrush and to be anywhere other than facing what must surely be her last tribunal.

Under different circumstances, the parlor might have been considered cozy. Michael wasn't sure who he wanted answers from first. His cousin glared coldly at Mr. Lightwood. As for the man destined to become his father-in-law, Michael was sure whatever would come out of his mouth would be a deception. As for his lovely Philippa, the state of her dress and hair begged an explanation. Ladies didn't climb out of windows for sport.

The innkeeper's wife entered the room with a steaming pot of tea on a tray. She set it on the small table. She addressed Philippa. "Is there anything else you need, love?"

"Do you have a private place where a maid might assist me? I'm afraid I–I have spiders in my gown!" She shuddered violently.

"I'm afraid we are full up for the night, Miss, but I can help you in my private rooms."

Michael produced his key. "The lady may have my room. I'll not be needing it tonight."

The innkeeper's wife took the key. "Come, love, let's get you sorted."

Philippa followed the woman from the room.

Sir Lightwood lifted his chin.

Richard spoke first. "You never answered Miss Philippa. Where is Miss Lightwood?"

"Alex … er … Alexandra is safe at Kellmore Manor."

"I presume you brought Miss Philippa under the guise of your eldest daughter's request. As I recall, Miss Philippa is unusually devoted to her sister." The duke's statement begged an answer.

"What do you know of my daughters?" The fight hadn't gone out of the man. "What business are they of yours?"

If he wasn't worried about Philippa, Michael might find the interrogation more entertaining. "His Grace is my cousin. He has been introduced to your daughters on a number of occasions."

For the first time, uncertainty flashed across Sir Lightwood's face. It was replaced by something altogether different. "Your Grace, surely you must understand how distraught I was to discover my daughter in a man's arms in such a state. What was a father to think?"

Richard leaned forward. "That depends on where you last saw her. Upstairs, perhaps? In Lord Endelton's room, I presume."

Sir Lightwood shifted his weight and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. "When I saw her last, she was not in a disheveled state."

The duke stepped forward, crowding Sir Lightwood. "A state she claims came from climbing from an upper story window. Seeing as your daughter did not fall to her death, the question remains. How did she arrive to be here at this inn and locked in an upper room which, if I am correct, was not let to her?"

Philippa's father narrowed his eyes. "It is highly unusual for a man I've never met to know so much about my daughters' affairs."

"As I said, I am looking out for my cousin's welfare. I have been keeping an eye on several women who might seek to entrap him into a less than desirable marriage. So far this Season, my watchful eye has prevented him from three such traps."

"What? You never—" Michael ceased his protests at Richard's raised hand.

"Later." Richard responded to Michael only to quickly return to speaking directly to Sir Lightwood. "However, the one woman whom I thought would trap my cousin from the very first day had yet to make a move. I knew she would, she was exactly the type, desperate with an even more desperate father. Still, I waited and my concern grew as I realized my cousin growing ever more partial. He shunned my every warning. Then she rejected his proposal to save his name. I didn't think a woman was capable of such a thing."

Sir Lightwood's face grew red. Michael had little doubt the man would take his wrath out on Philippa the first chance he had.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw her scaling the ivy out of the inn, in an apparent attempt to escape the room above." Lord Richard studied his tea. "I had not expected that. Miss Philippa is all my cousin claims—a woman who risks her own life, wardrobe, and reputation rather than sully someone else's. I didn't think such a woman existed. My apologies, Michael. And not that it matters, but you have my blessing." Richard turned to Michael and slowly bowed his head.

"His blessing?" Bellowed Sir Lightwood. "What about mine? No contracts have been signed."

"Considering what occurred here tonight was of your doing, I don't think it would be wise to do anything other than give your consent if marriage is what your daughter wants. As for the marriage contract, Michael and I use the same solicitor." There was no mistaking the threat in Richard's voice was as clear as the growl of a caged lion.

"I intend to have Philippa for my wife, if she will agree. All of her sisters will be welcome in our home. However, sir, whether or not you are depends entirely upon your daughter's opinion. May I put that in the marriage contract?" Michael addressed the question to his cousin who answered with a nod.

Sir Lightwood sidestepped the duke toward the door. "I'll get my daughter then."

"No," said Michael. "You will allow her to come down on her own terms. What you will do is prepare your coach?—"

"Have you seen Sir Lightwood's coach?" interrupted Richard. "Most uncomfortable, I assume. Might I suggest Sir Lightwood go about finding a spinster or some other suitable companion to accompany you and Miss Philippa back to London in my coach? That will give me time with Lightwood and his accomplice, assuming he has not abandoned this place, to come to an agreement or two."

"Agreement?" Sir Lightwood and Michael asked in unison.

The Duke of Aylton's lips thinned. "Yes, I want to be sure his other daughters have a fair chance on the marriage mart. Which means Sir Lightwood needs to change his ways." The color drained from Sir Lightwood's face.

"Endelton, you need not worry about us. Just send my coach back when you return to London. Lightwood, you must secure a chaperone post haste for your daughter's welfare."

Sir Lightwood scrambled from the room.

Michael blurted the question that had been on his mind. "You believe Philippa did not mean to entrap me?"

"When I first saw her climbing the ivy, I thought she was trying to get into your room. However, once she pointed out she had scaled down the wall, it was easy to see the trail of broken vines descending from your window. She must think very highly of you to risk falling to the ground to prevent you from being ensnared."

"I hope she does." Michael prayed he was correct. He could not endure another refusal to his proposal.

The innkeeper's wife gave Phil's dress another shake. "Oh, and there is another one of the little creatures. That's only three, Miss. Spiders are not my favorites at all, and the ivy be full off them. Why did you do a fool thing like climbing down the wall?"

"My father wanted to force a man, a viscount, to marry me." Having stripped to her chemise, Phil shook out her stays. No spiders appeared. There had been one on her shoe and none on her stockings.

"Don't you like this Lord?"

"I do, very much, but I won't force his hand. What kind of marriage can you have if it started by trickery?"

"I don't rightly know. Mine was started by a wee bit of devilry in the hayloft, if you know what I mean." The innkeeper's wife didn't even blush at her comment. "I suppose we all do what we must to get us a man. With all these wars, the good ones are in short supply. I'd take him any way you can. I'll check your back next."

Phil stood as still as possible as the woman lifted the back of her chemise.

"I don't see any more of the little crawlies. But in my opinion, you have more than enough inside y'er shift to keep a man happy. He wouldn't mind if he was tricked into marriage with ye."

Phil's face heated. The conversation was worse than having spiders crawling on her. "I have a bag with another dress and my hairbrush in it, only I do not know where it went."

"I'll go and fetch it for you." The innkeeper's wife left with her dress.

If she did want to trap Michael, she was certainly dressed for the part. Phil rubbed her arms to warm herself and sat at a rickety table and pulled the pins and twigs out of her hair. She didn't feel anything crawling along her scalp as her fingers combed. Her hair had been the first place the innkeeper's wife had checked, declaring it free of spiderwebs or moving creatures. Thank heavens she'd not participated in George and Jane's contest to grow her hair out. Jane's fell well below her knees. It would be impossible to finger comb it all out.

A tap on the door announced the return of the innkeeper's wife. "Your dress will need a good soak to come clean. Your father's coachman gave me this bag. Is it the one you wanted?"

"Yes, it is."

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"I'll fetch you a bite of supper while you see to y'er hair." The innkeeper's wife left again.

Phil found her brush and worked on her hair. Satisfied that she was ivy- and spider-free, Phil plaited her hair and wound it into a simple bun.

Phil eyed the window. An escape to the barn might be best, but then how to return to London? Father must have left her here. She had no money for the mail coach. Imposing on the Duke or Lord Endelton would hardly be proper—providing they came in a coach. They could have easily ridden.

The innkeeper's wife didn't knock when she let herself back in.

"Here is a bite for ye." The woman set a plate of cold meat, cheese, and bread on the table with a cup of tea. Not an elegant meal, but enough to satisfy. If Phil's mother watched from heaven above, she would have yelled at her daughter to take small bites and not wolf her food down like one of the hunting hounds.

"Best hurry up now and put on y'er other dress. Don't want to wait too long. When men talk too long, they come up with plans. Plans never work out for us women folks now, do it? Look at parliament. If women were in there, things would be different."

Phil was startled at the idea. Women would run the country differently. However, she had enough of her own problems to attend to tonight. Men talking must mean Father was still here. Perhaps she had a way back to London. "What men are talking?"

"The gentlemen, of course. Me husband is serving them in our best parlor, he is." She tightened the stays a bit tighter than how Phil preferred them.

Anxious to get downstairs, Phil didn't have the innkeeper's wife readjust them. The old gray dress Phil had in her bag hid the stains on her petticoat. Tying fresh stockings in place, Phil looked up at the innkeeper's wife. "Thank you for your help. I'd give you something, but I was dragged from my home without even a tuppence."

"No worries, his lordship slipped me husband a half crown for my help. And the duke paid me husband a crown more. Don't know who you are, but you may not need trickery after all."

Phil followed the woman down the stairs, wondering exactly what she did need.

Only Lord Endelton and Duke Aylton sat in the small parlor when she entered. They both stood at her entrance. Phil glanced in all the corners. "Where is my father?"

The duke bowed slightly. "He is securing an escort for your ride back to London. I am going to check on his progress. You'll leave in five minutes." He swept out of the door leaving her alone with Michael.

Phil took a step to the door. She hadn't climbed down a trellis of ivy to have the duke leave her in a compromising situation in the private parlor of a coaching inn. "Please don't go. We are unchaperoned."

The duke smiled and closed the door behind him.

"I asked for five minutes with you privately. I hope you don't mind." Lord Endelton gestured to a chair so she might sit.

Phil remained standing. "But it isn't proper."

"It is if what I intend to ask is for your ears only."

Phil's hand flew to her chest, and she took the offered seat. It was the only way to keep her rapidly beating heart from flying away. Could he mean to ask for her hand again? Despite her father? Despite all that transpired tonight? She couldn't form any words, so she sat at the end of the small sofa, signaling her willingness to stay.

Michael sat next to her and took the hand not holding her heart in check in his own. "You braved spiders for me."

Still unable to speak, Phil nodded.

"No one has ever braved spiders to save me. I know you love me. Philippa, please marry me. I love you. I want you. I need you to tell me when I am being foolish, correct me when I am wrong, and love me when I need forgiveness. Please be my wife?"

"But my father?—"

Michael shook his head. "—is of no consequence. Please?

"You love me?"

"Ardently." He lifted her soiled glove to his lips.

"Truly?"

"Deeply." Michael moved closer and lowered his voice. "And if you don't answer me soon, I'll pull you into my arms and kiss you with such passion that when my cousin opens the door, he will force us to marry."

Phil giggled. The idea he would force her hand was the most insane thing she'd ever heard. She bobbed her head. "I love you too. Yes."

Michael's lips touched hers. She leaned into him and dropped the hand holding her heart in place to his chest. His heart beat as rapidly as hers, like a mighty bird trying to flee its cage. His lips danced over hers. She gasped, and he trailed kisses along her jawbone. His lips returned to hers, and she matched his movements. If Phil had known such bliss was ruination, she might have tried it earlier.

The door thumped open against the wall, causing them to jump apart, although Michael retained his grip on her hand.

The duke leaned against the door frame. "I assume she agreed to have you. I really don't want to have to polish my dueling pistols."

Michael stood, helping Phil rise with him. It would have been hard to do otherwise, as she wanted to be as near as she could to him. "She said yes."

One of the Duke's rare smiles graced his face. "You are sure, my dear? He is a terrible bore, and he has been known to try to cheat at cards."

Phil couldn't contain her smile. "I think I will be quite content with that. I only see one problem."

"What is that?"

"I will have to put up with a cantankerous and conniving duke as my cousin. I do hope you don't show up at the break of dawn often. I simply won't put up with your yelling."

Michael pulled her into his arms. "Yet another reason to make you mine." He kissed her again, ignoring the stomping of the duke as he left the room.