To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(13)

“He’s unmarried,” her mother offered.

Of course.

Every conversation invariably came back to that important detail about a gentleman:

Would you like sugar and milk in your tea? Lord So-and-So is married.

Do take care to not walk outside, lest you be caught in the rain. It wouldn’t do for an unmarried gentleman to see you without a care…

“It hardly matters whether the marquess is wed or not wed,” she said in smooth, even tones, still attending her work. She’d no intention of marrying again. Ever. There was no need to spend the remainder of her days as nothing more than a body to give a lord his beloved heir and a spare while his female issue was forgotten. When her family still said nothing, she filled the void. “Lord Guilford was gracious enough to help me to my carriage.” Carrying her as though she’d weighed nothing in his strong, powerful arms. Her breathing quickened and she prayed the three now studying her didn’t note her body’s telltale response. “That is all,” she finished weakly.

The butler, Joseph, appeared at the front of the parlor, a silver tray in his gloved hands. He cleared his throat. “The Marquess of Guilford has arrived…” He looked to Philippa. “…to see Lady Winston.”

Her lips parted and questions tumbled around her mind. He was here? What…? Why…?

At the protracted silence, the butler glanced about. And though she knew this surprising turn would only bring with it further Edgerton questions later, the oddest fluttering danced in her belly at the unexpected visit.

“You may show him in, Joseph” she said “Now, please excuse me,” she ordered her family. “I have a visitor to attend to.”





Chapter 6


As Miles was led through the Marquess of Waverly’s townhouse, one thing became very apparent—he was being watched.

A small figure, a familiar figure, came racing down the corridor. “Miles!”

He smiled as Faith skidded to a halt before him. “My lady,” he greeted, sketching a deep bow.

She giggled. “I’m not a grown lady, I’m just a girl.” Nonetheless, she sank into a flawless, very mature curtsy. Had life taught the girl that maturity?

“Have you come to see my mama?” she asked with the guile only a child was capable of.

“I have,” he answered, snapped out of his musings. “Though I expect you’ve seen she is well-cared for.”

Faith gave a solemn nod. “Oh, yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “She wouldn’t let the doctor come and check her foot. She says she is fine.” Yet again, images of Philippa’s delicate slip of flesh in his hands, the satiny softness of her skin, burned in his memory. I am going to hell. There is nothing else for it. “She sent me abovestairs,” the girl was saying.

He furrowed his brow.

“To the schoolroom,” she said by way of explanation.

“Ah, of course.” As a child, he’d chafed at being shut away in those miserable nurseries, preferring the invigorating Sussex air to the closed-in rooms every previous Marquess of Guilford had lost countless days to.

“Lessons on reading,” she said with the same dejected tones of one who’d been deprived of a year’s worth of dessert.

His lips twitched. With her flair for the dramatics she called forth memories of his now married sister, Rosalind. “And what does your governess have you reading that has you avoiding your lessons?”

“Lessons on propriety and decorum,” she said in a high-pitched, nasal tone which, he’d wager these last three weeks of his bachelorhood, was a rendition of the nursery governess responsible for her tutoring. Then, the girl flared her eyes. “But I heard you had come for a visit and I sneaked away,” she whispered and then stole a glance about.

Miles dropped to a knee and leaned close to her right ear. He spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “I was known to avoid my own lessons,” he said with a wink.

She blinked and shook her head. “What did you say?”

Miles creased his brow. “Uh…”

Color rushed to Faith’s cheeks and she glanced down at the tips of her toes. “You said it against my right ear. I cannot hear out of my right ear.”

A vise squeezed at his chest. She was partially deaf. Of course. This was why she’d failed to hear his approach at Hyde Park and the questions he’d posed. Missing just a beat, Miles angled his head and repeated his admission in her opposite ear.

The little girl widened her eyes all the more, so they formed round moons in her face. “My father said only terrible children skip their lessons. He said proper, good children attended their studies.”

Her father sounded like a miserable, stodgy bore. As soon as the thought slid forward, guilt settled in. It was hardly fair to judge a man in death. “I suspect there is much to be learned in visiting the park and being outdoors, too, no?” he asked, instead.

She flashed him a gap-toothed grin. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper once again. “And also from reading enjoyable books about far off places.” He fished her forgotten book from the front of his jacket and held it out.

A small cry escaped the girl. “My book.” She hurled herself into his arms and he staggered back. “I forgot that I forgot it. And it is one of my favorites. It is about a princess and prince.”