Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) (13 page)

Phillipa lay tortured; it seemed her very skin wept, the sheets rumpled and wet. She had repined for hours, trying to reason it all away, to find purpose and strength to face the future. However, her heart was her enemy, torturing her with the pain of lost love. Unable to endure anymore, she rose and slipped a robe over her fevered body and left the room. The great house was silent, as she padded along the landing. It felt so strange with so many people there; all come for her wedding, a wedding she now dreaded. The enormity of it all weighted her spirits, how could she face them, people with whom she would live, and mix with for the rest of her life? She passed one door where some occupant snored loudly, it gave her a sense of grounding, at least it was not the silence of a mausoleum, yet it may as well be that, for she felt broken; her body dying.

She sped on until she reached Damien’s door. Shivering, she felt the urge to awaken him.  Her thoughts raced once more; Hector's face rose in her mind, no; she could not throw him over. Damien said he wanted to marry her, but did he really? She was placing her family’s future on a proposal that may have been said in the heat of the moment.  Dear God, why was she so tormented with questions and fear? She breathed in for courage, and went to the door putting her head against it. No sound; she bit her lip, her hand now pressed against the wood, she wanted him, above all else. Was he too tossing and turning in his need for her? Maybe he had already gone?

T’was nearly dawn; perhaps he slipped away to ease the pain for both of them.  She looked at the locked door; would it help to go to Hector? But how could she? What reason could she give for her torment? Slowly, she turned away; her thoughts fevered.  She could not go back to the confines of her room; she needed space, fresh air. Taking the back stairs, she padded silently down, the cold of the stone striking through the slim sole of her satin slipper. The servants would not rise for at least another hour, so she would not be discovered. She opened the door to the great kitchen, to her surprise, she saw one of the cooks fast asleep in a high-backed chair, besides an immense hearth, over which hung a spit where the cooks roasted whole pigs and lambs. As she crept past him, she nearly jumped as he snorted, and licked his lips, but then settled back again.

Carefully, she unbolted the back door that led to another stone corridor, and the back entrance.  In minutes, she walked to the edge of the trees, following them around to a stone gazebo with its Palladian columns and stone Grecian figures in stark contrast to the gothic tones of the manor. Seeing the lake, Phillipa walked to the edge, her thoughts as dark as the night.  How could she go on without him?  Her heart would not give her rest, her mind brimming with torturous thoughts; of Damien embracing another, someone with whom he would share his life, someone who would feel those arms clasp her to his heart.

Firming her lips, she shed her robe and nightrail keeping her chemise on. She would swim; drown her grief in the water. Picturing Isabella and Henrietta with her, she felt the water seep over her bare feet. Dawn was just breaking, painting the sky with trails of peach and scarlet.  The hues cast a path of sparkling light over the darkness of the water.  She watched a heron on long delicate legs bending its elegant head toward some ferns. Did birds feel grief? Did they cry for a mate? They did stay together? She had seen doves in the ritual of courtship, bowing, and then their beaks kissing, so for them,  there must be a bond beyond instinct, a joy, a sorrow.  If only, she could fly to some distant horizon where pain did not exist. Maybe she could float into that light, forget all sorrow and just be.  She stepped further into that shimmering path; her gaze intent on the rising sun. An anthem floated into her tortured mind,

‘Oh God hear my cry!

My heart is sorely pained within my breast,

My soul with deathly terror oppressed.

Trembling and fearfulness upon me fall.

With horror overwhelmed, Lord hear me call….

She saw her chemise float around her, like wings hovering. 

The words came clearly now,

Oh for the wings, for the wings of a dove!

Far away, far away would I rove!

In the wilderness build me a nest,

And remain there forever at rest.

Damien paced the room, his mind raging. Dam – damn it all. She confessed her love for him, yet still she denied him. He’d never known loyalty like it, yet was that not what he would prize? She mentioned Hector’s generosity, his philanthropic nature, a generosity that bound her to him. She was also tied to a betrothal arranged in her childhood, a betrothal in which she had no choice. The rules of propriety were rigid and unforgiving, rules Damien often flouted as did she, except in this one area. Perhaps she thought he was flighty with his proposal, that he would not follow through on his promises. Phillipa’s family was of prime importance to her, and the future of her siblings weighed heavily on those delicate shoulders. 

He went to pour another glass only to see the bottle empty. Well, he shouldn’t imbibe further; he needed a clear head for what he was about to do. Notwithstanding her denial of him, he would seek to reason with her, and if that did not work, then he was quite prepared to abduct her and be damned. If he did not act, they were both damned anyway.

Pulling on his frock coat, he pulled a bag of tools from his portmanteau. He may have need of them, if she refused to open the door. Marching purposefully, but light of foot, he made his way across the landing to the west wing. He knew exactly which room was hers. Knocking softly, he waited but had no reply. How could she sleep when he was breaking up inside? Reaching into his bag, he brought out a ring on which were numerous keys. The first three did not work, but thankfully to his relief the fourth turned easily in the lock.  Making his way on tip toe into the room, he went to the four-poster bed only to see a bundle of sheets and an eiderdown tossed on the floor. Perhaps she was in the adjoining boudoir. He knew every inch of her quarters, having already inspected it. Going to the door, he opened it to find it in semi darkness, but he could see well enough.  She was nowhere to be found. Going back to the bedroom he even peered under the bed.

No luck. Deuce, where was she? Then the thought struck him, had she gone to Hector? Were they sleeping in the next room? He went to the connecting door, listening carefully but heard nothing. Bending, he looked through the keyhole to see the key missing. Gently, he turned the door knob, only to find it locked. Hell, he rustled in his bag again and took out the key ring; he had a premonition all was not well. Perhaps she had run away. He now chided himself; it was his fault; he'd pushed her too hard. Maybe she couldn’t face it all. On trying the third key, the lock gave way, and he quietly opened the door, stepping inside what appeared to be Hector’s dressing room; tiptoeing across, he was able to turn the door knob which led him into the bedroom. The heavy brocade curtains were thrown back, the pre-dawn light filtering through the room. Hector lay slumbering, covered only with a light sheet, it was so hot in the room, but windows had to be kept shut against the constant threat of burglars.  He frowned, espying another form beside Hector, for a moment his heart sank, she had gone to him, but then moving nearer, he could see the dark locks spread across the pillow, were lighter in colour than Phillipa’s, indeed almost titian. Good Lord, t’was Lady Amaryllis, now this was a to do.  Where the hell was Phillipa? His foreboding grew, he had to find her.

Leaving quietly, he shut both doors relocking the one to the dressing room. Once more, inside her bedroom, he searched again, maybe she returned in his absence but there was no sign of her. Going to the window, he drew the curtains right back. Looking out of the window, he saw the sun rising, the colours sweeping a path over the lake. He frowned, as he made out a figure moving in the stream of light. His heart leapt into his throat, his breath paralysed; no – no. He wanted to shout through the window, but that would alert everyone, instead he ran from the room.  

Realizing the front door would be locked and bolted, he knew he could not wait to rouse the butler. Neither did he have time to smash through the heavy leaded light windows. Was it her? Had she….? Racing down the servants’ back stairs, he ran like a madman through the kitchen, the cook snoring, propped up in the chair. Finding the back door unlocked, he gulped, please God no – please let her be alive. With legs pumping, he made for the lake, reaching halfway he gasped for breath, his arms propelling him forward.  

For an instant, Phillipa felt an inner peace, as the rays warmed her face, All thoughts left her mind, as she focused only on the hues of the dawn.  She waded onward, feeling the shafts of light embrace her.  This is what life should be, just being one with nature, feeling the peace. What else need exist? Nature made no demands.

The waters lifted her body, her hair floating like rippling reeds, as she drifted down deeper into silence.

…..build me a nest,

And remain there forever at rest.

She did not heed the heron shriek, as it lifted its graceful head and spread its wings to fly. 

Without stopping Damien saw her dive in the water, and disappear. He heard a heron screeching, as it took to the wing. Dear God, let him be in time, he was praying, something so alien to him, something he scorned. In desperation, he prayed to the God he could not see or hear. He gritted his teeth and ran in up to his thighs, then dived, his arms thrashing through the water.  He found himself crying out, ‘Phillipa, please, please….’ Reaching her in seconds, he grabbed her beloved body, feeling for a pulse in her neck.

Her hand slapped the side of his head, ‘What? What are you doing, let go of me.’

‘Don’t do this Phillipa, don’t .… We can work—’ As they struggled, he became aware she was naked except for her chemise.  

‘Let go – you – you fatwit.’

Treading water, he released her, a stupid grin appearing on his face. ‘Dear God, I am so relieved. You are alright?’

‘Of course I am – what is the matter with you. ?’

Looking down into the chocolate brown eyes, he realized he was near to tears. ‘Phillipa my dearest love. Please don’t ever tell me to leave again.’  

Treading water with him, her arms stroking the surface, she saw the joy and relief there in his eyes, his beaming grin and suddenly realized, ‘You thought I was going to—?’

‘What else could I think, seeing you alone walking into the lake? I am sorry, I imposed my will upon you. I gave you no quarter.’

‘For goodness sake man, I told you I love to swim at night, tis something I have always done.’

Realization now hit him like a hammer blow. ‘Of course, of course, forgive me. But Phillipa, I can never walk away from you again. I’m damned if I will.’

‘Well, we’ll both drown if we don’t make for the shore.’ Turning, she struck out strongly for the bank.  Following her, he caught her around her waist, and drew her head to his, kissing her soundly. Together they floated and rolled taking the kiss underwater.  With bubbles of air escaping, they rose breathless to the surface and made for the shallows. With the earth beneath his feet, Damien hefted her up in his arms, and swung her around.

Giggling, she clung to his neck. ‘Oh Damien, I do love you, I do.’

‘So come away with me my beautiful nymph, forever more I shall think of you as the lady of the lake.’

‘Hmm, the only thing I am missing is a sword. Now set me down, as I must needs put on my robe.’

Aware of the beauty of her body once more, he stood watching as she peeled off the sodden chemise,  his body aroused. He would enjoy this, for he would not see her  naked body until their wedding night. ‘Sir have you no honour, look away I say.’

Chuckling, he folded his arms, ‘What and miss such a glorious sight to see the lady of the lake risen? Ah no.  Now come, you will catch a chill if you don’t dress quickly.’

Huffing and raising her eyebrow at him, she turned her back and finished dressing.

‘I think we should return under cover of the trees,’ he said, picking up her sodden chemise. Swiftly they sped for cover and make their way back to the Grecian folly.  Here Damien stopped, taking her in his arms. His lips seeking hers. He could not get enough of her, his senses swimming, she felt the warmth of his body, the roundness of her curves melding into his angles.  Good Lord they fitted so well, they were truly designed for each other. 

She felt his large hands warming her back, as he held her so close. Resting her head on his chest, she realized she could never leave him again. She would forsake family and fortune just to be with him. But could she actually summon up the strength when faced with her decision?

Lifting her head, she raised her arms around his neck, and caught him neck, stroking the dark locks. ‘I realise Damien, for all my views I was still imprisoned in the laws of propriety, and customs from which I must break free. We must take our place in a modern age that does not imprison the heart.’

‘And now I am with you sweetheart. It will take time for me to embrace the rise of women’s – err – rights, but I promise you now, you have my support. I will encourage and help you in your endeavour.’ 

The kitchen was still in darkness, and the cook stirred in his chair. Hastily, they skirted the room and fled up the back stairs. To their relief, the landing was deserted, so they sped swiftly to her room. ‘Where is the brandy?’ Damien said, looking around the room.

‘Oh Mary put it away, she is fastidiously neat.  It will be in the Chinoiserie armoire.’

Opening the cupboard, he took out two glasses and the brandy, placing them on the small marble table. Pouring out generous measures, he looked up. ‘Demme, I think I need this more than you. I failed to remember that you did night swimming.’

‘I needed to rid myself of torturous thoughts teeming through my brain.  All I envisioned was your face and the bleakness of a future without you.’

‘My darling, I cannot describe my feelings, when I realized you were safe, and safe you will remain for evermore. I will never allow anything or anyone to pain you so again.’

As he offered her a glass, she said, ‘I just felt if I was at breaking point with nowhere to turn. I did not want to break Hector’s heart, but then after you left me, I realized I was denying him true love, denying him the chance to meet a girl who would truly love him as a woman should, a woman to share his desire, arouse his passion, just so that I could use his money for my brothers.  I am ashamed now of how callously I treated him.’

Damien grimaced inwardly, little did she know of Hector’s dalliance with the fairer sex.  In other circumstances, he would not have to reveal her fiancé’s misdemeanours, but this involved an innocent woman who was willing to sacrifice a life of true love, rather than betray him, and also it impinged on his own future happiness. He knew he had to find the right moment to tell her, to release her from her torment.  ‘You were never callous Phillipa. As you said, you were still captive to a society that enslaves the female.’

She disappeared behind the screen to change her clothes, ‘You are right Damien, I had no experience of other men and no idea of the depth of a man’s feelings, or how quickly he is aroused with the woman he loves. To me, Hector was still the childhood friend, only grown up. There were no urgent kisses between us, no promises of undying love, no aching to be touched. I now empathise with the novelists when they write of the heat of desire, for I thought I would surely perish with it when you kissed me.’

‘So, I aroused those feelings in you did I?’ Damien grinned, feeling the relief. ‘Have you ever asked him if he loves you?’