Chapter 1 #2
The truth is that I would much prefer to call him by his title.
In private—by which I mean, when Laetitia isn’t present—that’s what we do: he calls me Darling and I call him St George.
It’s the way it has been for years, and we’re both comfortable with it.
But if she insists on him addressing me by my first name, then she’ll have to put up with me returning the favor.
And if I roll the syllables around on my tongue a bit excessively before I spit them out, then so be it.
As for the significance of the, “I do”—
Well, it ought to be obvious. The girl that Crispin fancies himself in love with? The one he’s certain would take his declaration of love and trample it underfoot?
She’s me. Or I’m she. And I don’t blame him for being reluctant.
We’ve spent twelve years being deliberately cruel to one another.
It’s no wonder if he’d expect more of the same.
But I’ve had some time to come to terms with the idea, since Christopher spilled the beans a month or so ago, and while I would, at one point, have laughed myself sick had my childhood nemesis come to me with pretty words and puppy-dog eyes, the truth is that I like him well enough by now that I would at least endeavor to turn him down without being vicious.
It’s not his fault that he feels the way he does, poor sap.
Of course it’s all moot anyway, seeing as he’s engaged to Laetitia and not in a position to declare an attachment to anyone else.
And perhaps I haven’t quite gotten over my desire to watch him squirm, because I rarely let a chance go by to twist the (metaphorical) knife whenever fate presents me with such an opportunity.
The “I do,” was supposed to remind him that in a month’s time, he’d be facing a woman in front of the altar at St George’s, Hanover Square, and she wouldn’t be me.
Now I watched his lips part involuntarily, almost as if the blow had been physical. It took a second, and then his lips firmed and his eyes cooled. “Touché, Darling.”
“Philippa,” I reminded him, and flapped my hand. “Have a seat, St George. We’re discussing motoring up to the Cotswolds tomorrow.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” Constance wanted to know as Crispin and Laetitia made their way over to a chair on the other side of the low table. He helped her down into it before perching elegantly on the arm beside her.
I nodded. “I am, at any rate. You don’t have to come. Although I think someone ought, don’t you? I’m certain Shreve didn’t ask any of the questions I would have asked.”
“What questions are they?” Lady Euphemia wanted to know, but just then Christopher said, “I’m in,” and I pretended I hadn’t heard her in favor of him.
“Thank you, Christopher.”
“If you two are going,” Francis said, looking from Christopher to me and back, “I’m going, too. I don’t trust either of you not to crash the Crossley.”
“What about St George?” He’d had more experience behind the wheel than all of us combined.
“You must be joking,” Francis said. “He has destroyed more motorcars than the rest of us put together.”
“One,” Crispin grumbled. “I have destroyed one motorcar. And only because I was drunk at the time.”
“You think that’s a point in your favor,” Francis told him, “but it’s not.”
“I won’t be drunk at nine o’clock tomorrow morning!”
“Knowing you,” Francis said critically, “you’ll be hung over, and that’s just as bad.”
“I’m hardly drunk,” Crispin snarled, “and I’ll stop drinking right now, if it’ll make you happy.”
“Are you coming with us, then?” I interjected, placidly.
He looked at me. And then at Laetitia. She turned limpid, blue eyes on him. They stayed locked for a moment and then Crispin turned back to me. “No, Darling. We’ll stay here.”
Laetitia smiled, like a cat with a bowl full of cream. Pleased at keeping him in line with nothing more than a look, perhaps. Or simply pleased that she had kept the two of us from spending several hours in a motorcar together. Even the “Darling,” didn’t seem to bother her.
“Suit yourself,” I told him, since I obviously couldn’t care less whether he decided to accompany us or not. “Christopher and me, Francis and Constance, then?”
“I’ll drive,” Francis said.
“Yes, Francis. We know.” Christopher rolled his eyes. “You’ll want an early start, I assume?”
“As early as we can make it,” I decreed. “If we leave it too late, we may have to stay over.”
“I’m sure there are inns,” Christopher said with a shrug, as if the four of us, unmarried, rooming together overnight, was nothing out of the ordinary.
Which of course it wasn’t. I room with Christopher every night.
Or if not quite that, we share a flat in London—with separate bedchambers—and can misbehave as much as we want when we’re at home.
The fact that we don’t—because we’re best friends, and first cousins, and the next thing to siblings, and most importantly, because Christopher’s queer—is beside the point, but Lady Euphemia didn’t seem to realize that. Her eyes widened comically.
Aunt Roz’s did not. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she said, blandly. To Francis and Constance, I assume. I don’t think she knows exactly what Christopher gets up to in London, but she knows very well that he doesn’t get up to anything to do with me.
Francis grinned. “Of course not, Mum. If we end up staying somewhere overnight, we’ll put Constance and Pippa in a room together, and take turns guarding the door. Won’t we, Kit?”
“You can,” Christopher said, pulling another little shocked sound from the countess. “But Pippa can take care of herself, and Constance as well. If it were a question of Pippa or me versus a burglar, I’d put my money on Pippa.”
“Flattered,” I told him, “I’m sure.”
“You ought to be.” He grinned at me.
“I’ve said it before,” I said. “I’d be happy to share a room with Constance or either one of you boys. But the whole point of leaving early was so that we could make it there and back in one day, with no need to stay over.”
Christopher nodded. “Up and out early, then.”
“If possible. If we leave directly after breakfast, we can be in the Cotswolds by luncheon, and then back in Wiltshire again for supper, if all goes well.”
“Dear me, Darling,” Crispin drawled. After an admonishing look from his fiancée, he added, “Philippa. You seem very concerned about not missing any meals. Is there something we should know?”
“Such as?” I blinked at him, and saw the answer materialize in his eyes. I rolled mine. “Good grief, St George. No, I’m not eating for two. Wolfgang and I did not have that kind of relationship. Just because you go around bedding women indiscriminately—”
But that was apparently a step too far. Not for Crispin, nor yet for his fiancée, but the bride-to-be’s mother surged to her feet in a flutter of chiffon and lace. “More sherry, Roslyn?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Aunt Roz said placidly and held out her glass. As Lady Euphemia walked away with it, Aunt Roz added, with a gimlet stare, “Give it a rest, you two. Flirt on your own time.”
It was Laetitia’s turn to squeak, offended, and Crispin turned pink to the tips of his ears. “Thanks a lot, Auntie.”
“You know better,” Aunt Roz told him. She slanted a look at me. “You too, Pippa.”
I made a face. “Of course, Aunt Roz.”
“If you’re leaving early tomorrow, perhaps you should retire soon, to ensure that you get enough rest.”
That was as good as an order, and I got to my feet. “That’s a good idea. Thank you, Aunt Roz.”
“Don’t mention it,” Aunt Roslyn said as Christopher unwound from beside me. “Sleep well, you two.”
Francis and Constance had not been banished, and made no move to stand, so I told the latter, “A moment of your time, Constance?”
“Of course, Pippa.” She put her glass of sherry on the table.
“Don’t be long,” Francis told her, which indicated that he, certainly, had no plans of being sent to his room like a misbehaving child.
I tucked my hand through Constance’s elbow and pulled her towards the door to the hallway while Christopher ambled after us.
In our wake, Lady Euphemia sank back down on the Chesterfield beside Aunt Roz and handed her the sherry.
Crispin met my eyes for a second across the room, but only until his fiancée tugged on his sleeve, and then he turned his attention to her instead.
I pulled Constance through the door Christopher caught on the backswing and then allowed to fall shut behind us.