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Authors: Rachel Van Dyken
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fact, we were just discussing the new foundation to be made in Lord Rawlings’ honor, with a large donation given in his name.”
“ Foundation?” The dowager countess asked. “And what cause shall be in my saintly son’s name?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm. The only thing that kept Phillip from saying something he would regret was the pain he continued to inflict on his own hands as he clenched them into fists, draining them of all blood.
“ For the foundlings,” Emma offered. “For orphaned children, as well as children who find themselves in terrible situations. Whether it be from negligent mothers or stingy families. But we really must be off if we are to make our next appointment.”
Emma pushed past Phillip and entered the carriage, nose in the air, she held her hand out to Sebastian, who did a quick bow and entered. Phillip went in last and fought the urge to smile as he glanced at his stepmother, who curtsied awkwardly and mumbled in irritation, “Your graces,” before briskly walking away.
“ Well done, Emma! Absolutely inspired!” Sebastian laughed. “Though, I do believe starting a foundation for foundlings in Lord Rawlings’ name will be a little hard for some to swallow. Don’t think I didn’t hear your little jab about mothers not taking care of their children.”
“ Horrid, shameful woman!” Emma huffed crossing her arms.
Phillip snorted. “She’s always been that way. Too haughty for her own good. Though I think it vexes her to no end that I’m allowed into your drawing room while she is not.”
“ I would not receive that, that, that—”
“ Darling, please don’t hurt yourself.” Sebastian patted her hand.
Emma huffed. “I find that I get so very angry when people are cruel.”
Phillip silently watched their loving exchange and felt fortunate that such powerful friends would help him, would take him under their wings and laugh in the face of the ton . And although he appeared calm, his blood was still boiling beneath the surface as he sat in the carriage.
No love had been lost on their relationship. His stepmother had been a cruel and cold woman. Upon his father’s death, the only money that had settled upon her had been that fit for her station. It was nothing to snuff one’s nose at, but at times he wondered if she didn’t aid in the rumors that made every woman in London cower in his presence. After all, if he didn’t marry by his birthday, every last cent of his inheritance would default back to her. Four estates and more money than he could spend in a lifetime would be hers if she killed him, or if he didn’t marry. Both scenarios seemed plausible in his current state.
“ Phillip?” Sebastian rattled his thoughts, and it was then he realized they were already at Phillip’s residence. “Shall we send a carriage for you in a few hours, for dinner?”
“ Yes, that would be…” Phillip didn’t finish his thought, for who was standing outside his door, but Miss Abigail Gates, father in tow.
Chapter Eight
Debased: To lower a person’s moral character. For example, Miss Abigail Gates will be debased if she continues to be seen with the likes of Lord Rawlings. But that was merely hypothetical. This author, for one, knows the Gates family would never allow such an association.
— Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers
Abigail congratulated herself for the second time that day on her brilliance as she watched the color drain from Rawlings’ face. His mouth opened as if his intention was to greet them, then shut again. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He rubbed his face with his hand and then approached them.
It fascinated Abigail, for it appeared the shock had given him more vulnerability. But when their eyes met, a shred of confidence and indifference cloaked his face and manners. His steely gaze scrutinized her before he turned to her father.
“ My lord, how may I be of service?” His proximity and clean shaven smell made her dizzy. Gone
“ Foundation?” The dowager countess asked. “And what cause shall be in my saintly son’s name?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm. The only thing that kept Phillip from saying something he would regret was the pain he continued to inflict on his own hands as he clenched them into fists, draining them of all blood.
“ For the foundlings,” Emma offered. “For orphaned children, as well as children who find themselves in terrible situations. Whether it be from negligent mothers or stingy families. But we really must be off if we are to make our next appointment.”
Emma pushed past Phillip and entered the carriage, nose in the air, she held her hand out to Sebastian, who did a quick bow and entered. Phillip went in last and fought the urge to smile as he glanced at his stepmother, who curtsied awkwardly and mumbled in irritation, “Your graces,” before briskly walking away.
“ Well done, Emma! Absolutely inspired!” Sebastian laughed. “Though, I do believe starting a foundation for foundlings in Lord Rawlings’ name will be a little hard for some to swallow. Don’t think I didn’t hear your little jab about mothers not taking care of their children.”
“ Horrid, shameful woman!” Emma huffed crossing her arms.
Phillip snorted. “She’s always been that way. Too haughty for her own good. Though I think it vexes her to no end that I’m allowed into your drawing room while she is not.”
“ I would not receive that, that, that—”
“ Darling, please don’t hurt yourself.” Sebastian patted her hand.
Emma huffed. “I find that I get so very angry when people are cruel.”
Phillip silently watched their loving exchange and felt fortunate that such powerful friends would help him, would take him under their wings and laugh in the face of the ton . And although he appeared calm, his blood was still boiling beneath the surface as he sat in the carriage.
No love had been lost on their relationship. His stepmother had been a cruel and cold woman. Upon his father’s death, the only money that had settled upon her had been that fit for her station. It was nothing to snuff one’s nose at, but at times he wondered if she didn’t aid in the rumors that made every woman in London cower in his presence. After all, if he didn’t marry by his birthday, every last cent of his inheritance would default back to her. Four estates and more money than he could spend in a lifetime would be hers if she killed him, or if he didn’t marry. Both scenarios seemed plausible in his current state.
“ Phillip?” Sebastian rattled his thoughts, and it was then he realized they were already at Phillip’s residence. “Shall we send a carriage for you in a few hours, for dinner?”
“ Yes, that would be…” Phillip didn’t finish his thought, for who was standing outside his door, but Miss Abigail Gates, father in tow.
Chapter Eight
Debased: To lower a person’s moral character. For example, Miss Abigail Gates will be debased if she continues to be seen with the likes of Lord Rawlings. But that was merely hypothetical. This author, for one, knows the Gates family would never allow such an association.
— Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers
Abigail congratulated herself for the second time that day on her brilliance as she watched the color drain from Rawlings’ face. His mouth opened as if his intention was to greet them, then shut again. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He rubbed his face with his hand and then approached them.
It fascinated Abigail, for it appeared the shock had given him more vulnerability. But when their eyes met, a shred of confidence and indifference cloaked his face and manners. His steely gaze scrutinized her before he turned to her father.
“ My lord, how may I be of service?” His proximity and clean shaven smell made her dizzy. Gone
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