The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War), Eva Devon [e textbook reader .TXT] 📗

drew in a shuddering breath and nodded. Yes. Perhaps he could find a husband worthy of her and then she would have to leave him be.

He started shaking and felt sick.

He cursed at the very thought. The idea of finding a husband for Philippa made him want to gag because deep in his soul, he could not deny that he had never forgotten what he always hoped.

To make her his, and that desire was still deep within him. Even though he knew he could never have it.

Chapter 5

Phillipa marched over the green grass, up to the castle, through the arched entrance, and into the long chamber decked with pale blue furnishings and elaborately carved wood embellishments from a bygone era that her friend Clara preferred to take tea in.

Distress coursed through her, though she wasn’t angry. Instead, she felt flustered and out of sorts.

“Clara,” she called. “How could you possibly have lied to me this entire time?”

Clara looked up from her writing, her brown eyebrows lifting. “I beg your pardon?”

“I have found out the truth,” she said, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to sound accusatory. Clara was far too kind for that. And no doubt, she’d had her reasons.

Clara winced and placed her quill down upon her writing desk. “How the devil did you do that?”

She sighed and plunked herself on the delicate blue silk chair beside her friend. “It seems that your brother and I were indeed fated to meet.”

Phillipa hesitated. “How could you not tell me that he was here? You knew how much I hoped to see him.”

Clara’s brow furrowed as she straightened in her chair. “I actually tried to arrange it, my dear. But when he found out you were coming. . . He forced me not to tell you he was here. He told me that if I did tell you, he'd send me to a convent in France. And he was so upset at the prospect of your arrival, I feared he might be sincere. I didn’t wish to upset him further. He has suffered quite a lot. He's had most the difficult time these last months. You must understand.”

Her friend hesitated, her eyes wide with worry before she reached forward and took Phillipa’s hand in hers. “Do you?”

Phillipa drew in a ragged breath and crossed her arms under her breasts. “I suppose I must. He seemed in a very interesting state, as if he doesn't know what's best for him at all.”

Clara squeezed her hand as her eyes darkened with sorrow. “I agree. He doesn't know what's best for him, but you also can't reason with him. He’s spent all his time in the last months doing his best to recover, and I didn't wish to give him more agony by forcing a meeting between you. He wouldn't see you.” Clara bit her lower lip. “I'm sorry, my dear. I know how much you wished it.”

Phillipa looked away from her friend, slipped her hand away, then crossed to the fire. It was crackling away beautifully in the massive hearth framed with a marble mantel. She stood in front of it gazing at the leaping flames, transfixed.

It was much larger than the fire in Anthony's cottage.

She savored the heat and frowned as her heart cracked. “He really, truly wished to avoid me so very much?”

Clara nodded, then picked up her tea. “I'm very sorry. I know how much you cared about him. I think he cares about you too, my dear, but he will not allow himself to be close to anyone anymore. I think the horrors of war have just made such a thing impossible.”

She looked back at Clara, trying to take it in and failing. She’d never be able to fathom the suffering he’d seen. But she hated that the suffering wasn’t going to end after the battle. He seemed dedicated to it now. “That's terrible,” she whispered.

“Indeed, it is,” Clara agreed, folding her hands atop her pale pink skirts. “So many gentlemen go off to war and come back as if it's nothing, as if it's simply a profession like a butcher, or a baker, or a tailor, but not my brother. He seems to have taken it very much to heart what he saw. The Navy, well, it undid him. He's not the boy that I knew.”

“How very awful,” she replied honestly.

Clara gave another nod, lifted the cup of tea before her, and took a long sip. “He was always such a kind boy.”

Clara’s face hardened. “He never should have joined the Navy. Our brother made a great mistake in doing that to him. He was oh so strong, but his strength was used to rescue things, not to hurt them. And the Navy is all about killing and dominance, from what I've read. And from what I understand, whatever happened on those ships. . . It has broken him.”

Phillipa sucked in a breath. She couldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t.

He had helped her at her most difficult moment. When she and her sisters had nearly been broken.

She wouldn’t abandon him.

Somehow, she’d help him. She didn’t have to have him, even though she longed for it. But she would find a way to show him that he was needed in this life and that suffering was not the only road he had to walk upon.

And she’d do it. No matter the cost. For without him? She and her sisters would still be at the mercy of their brutal father. He’d taught her how to pursue freedom. Now, she’d remind him that he could still have his.

Scars or no.

Chapter 6

“Retired Captain Adams has disappeared.”

“I beg your pardon?” Grey demanded, gripping the edge of his desk to take pressure of his leg.

Merrill gave him a terse nod. “It’s true. He was last seen at the King’s Man. He slipped the bill and was last seen on the north road riding alone.”

Grey ground his teeth together, trying to focus on that rather than the pain pulsing through his head.

It had been