To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(18)

Stepping closer to the shore, she took in the smooth glass-like quality of the water. Even. Smooth. Placid. Not unlike herself.

Which only stirred that slow-building annoyance with the life she’d lived these past five and twenty years.

Desperate to break that perfect calm, Philippa bent, grabbed the nearest stone, and skipped it onto the surface.

Or tried to.

The rock hit the water with a loud thunk and promptly sank. If the Dowager Marchioness of Waverly was scandalized by Philippa’s recently discovered appreciation of Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s work, seeing Philippa now at Hyde Park, hurling stones into the water would send the woman into apoplexy.

Philippa glared at that smooth lake; that mocking reminder of her being the vapid creature she’d allowed herself to be molded into. She couldn’t even manage to skip a proper stone.

With a growl she plucked another stone from the ground and drew her arm back—

A deep, familiar baritone called from beyond her shoulder. “Have you ever skipped a stone before?”

Spinning, she shrieked and reflexively launched the stone. A horrified gasp exploded from her lips as it hit Miles squarely on his chest. “Miles,” she cried, slamming her palm over her mouth. He is here. Why is he here? She swallowed a groan. Then… “I hit you with a rock.”

Dismounting from his horse, he looped the reins around a nearby tree. “I daresay this is the first time I’ve ever been greeted by someone hurling rocks.” Miles tugged off his gloves and gave a wry smile.

Horror filled her breast, threatening to choke her on embarrassment. “I am so sorry,” she sputtered. “I was just…skipping stones.” She gesticulated wildly and she, who was so guarded with words, found them flowing freely. “Or trying to. And…” What a blithering fool. She clamped her lips closed.

“I trust your ankle is well?” he asked, coming forward. A twinkle lit his eyes.

“Quite.” Heat stole up her neck and stained her cheeks. “But do not tell my mother, as it will prove helpful for me to avoid certain activities.”

“Then it wouldn’t do for you to be discovered standing on the same ankle, lest it be reported back.” He followed that conspiratorial whisper with a wink.

Just like that, all embarrassment at being caught skipping stones at the lake and failing miserably at the endeavor left her. An unadulterated laugh spilled past Philippa’s lips. And how very wonderful it felt to laugh.

“Have you ever skipped them before?” he puzzled aloud.

She cocked her head and he motioned to the lake.

“It was deemed improper,” she explained with another wry twist of her lips. How many years had she spent shaping herself into the dutiful daughter? And what happiness had that brought her?

“Ah, you are long overdue for a lesson then, my lady.” Miles sifted through the pebbles littering the earth and tested one in his hand. “The secret is to find a flat, smooth stone.” He pressed it into her gloveless palm and delicious shivers radiated from the point of contact. His touch was hotter than the late spring sun beating down on them. Her mouth dry, she curled her hand tight around the stone. Never in all her husband’s quick, painful couplings had she known the thrill of heat as she did with this man’s touch.

“Not too tight,” he schooled, his grip firm but gentle upon her. How could he be so calm and unaffected while her heart raced at his nearness? “Like this,” he explained, coaxing her fingers open. He drew her before him so they faced the lake, her back pressed to his chest. Oh, goodness. She closed her eyes a moment drawing in a deep, steadying breath. “Hold the stone between your thumb and forefinger with your thumb on top,” he murmured against her ear. “Draw your arm like this,” he coaxed, guiding her arm back, his mellifluous baritone washing over her like warmed chocolate. “As you fling it, cock your wrist back and give a flick.” His breath fanned her ear. Coffee and mint. She breathed in the intoxicating scents. “And throw out and down at the same time,” he whispered.

Philippa gave a flick of her wrist. The stone hopped three times before sinking under the surface. She gasped, touching her fingers to her lips. A giddy lightness filled her chest and she swiveled her gaze from that small triumph now below the lake to a grinning Miles. “I did it,” she said with a breathless laugh. It was a small accomplishment. Surely an insignificant victory over the staid lifestyle she’d lived, but it felt real and magnificent and so wholly wonderful.

The smile on his lips faded and he passed solemn eyes over her face, lingering his gaze on her mouth. What was he thinking now?

Miles doffed his hat and beat it against his leg. “I should leave.” Did she merely wish for the heavy regret coating that acknowledgement?

“Must you?” That question emerged frantic as he turned to go. He paused and her mind raced. Yes, the world would be shocked at her boldness in all but pleading with this gentleman to remain. Philippa claimed a spot on the blanket and motioned to the spot beside her. “That is, you are welcome to stay. If you wish.”



I should leave.

There were countless reasons to leave Philippa and resume his morning ride. But one, more important, reason to stay—he wished to be with her. Where his younger brother, Rhys, had acquired a reputation as a rogue with an ability to effortlessly woo a lady with lies and flattery, Miles had always been direct. Not that he required any skill to woo Philippa. He wasn’t here for that purpose. You are a bloody liar. You searched for her the moment you entered the park…