To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(25)

Miles strode around the sofa and stopped at her shoulder. “Not every marriage need be that way.”

How very peculiar to witness a gentleman so very optimistic on the forever joining of two people. “Perhaps for some,” she whispered, lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug. “Two of my siblings are happily married,” she acknowledged. A chill stole through her and she folded her arms and rubbed. For though her brothers had found love, her mother had found hell…as had Philippa. “I learned not only as a wife, but also as a daughter, the danger in any man having dominion over me.” She breathed slowly. “This is a hell I’d not ever dare suffer through again.”

Something dark lit his eyes and he opened his mouth, when a loud squeal cut across whatever words he’d utter.

“Miles!” Faith charged through the doorway and flew across the room. The boisterous girl skidded to a halt before him.

There should be suitable horror at the outwardly display. And a year ago, even months ago, there would have been. The year since Calvin’s passing, her daughter had unfurled like a tight summer bloom, full of life and color, and she reveled in that beauty of her spirit.

“Lady Faith,” Miles greeted with a grand bow that raised a giggle.

“Did you bring my mama flowers?”

Heat slapped her cheeks. “Faith,” she chided.

“Did you?”

Miles dropped to a knee. “I am afraid I failed to do so. It is a matter I must promise to rectify in the future.”

Her daughter gave a pleased nod. “And remember, pick from the bottom of the stem, otherwise Mama cannot put them in a vase and they do need water.”

“Of course.” He grinned. “Though I expect I might benefit from an additional lesson.”

Oh, God. How wholly gentle and patient and kind he was with her daughter, when Faith’s own father hadn’t even wished to be bothered with talk of the girl. A sliver of her heart slipped free and fell forever into his unknowing hands.

Faith prattled on. “It will have to be in the morning because I have my lessons with Miss Cynthia.”

“Ah, but the best flowers are to be picked at night.”

She giggled. “You are silly,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Everyone knows flowers sleep at night.”

“Ah,” he said on a mysterious whisper, holding a finger up. “But not all flowers.” The husky quality of his words held Philippa enthralled and she was sucked into the words the way he surely intended. “There are moonflowers. Have you ever heard of them?”

Her mouth rounded, Faith shook her head.

“They are flowers,” Miles went on in hushed tones that effectively held her always-chatting daughter in silence. “That only bloom at night. They close during the day.”

She flared her eyes. “You do know about flowers.” There was awe coating her high sing-song tone.

He winked. “My sister enjoys gardening and sharing her knowledge with me.” Of course, Miles Brookfield, the Marquess of Guilford, would be one of those devoted brothers to attend his sisters’ interests. Her own brothers hadn’t wished to be bothered with her or Chloe and certainly not enough to listen if she spoke of flowers or anything else…

Faith captured Miles’ face between her hands in a gesture so reserved for a loving daughter and devoted father that Philippa’s heart wrenched. “Then mayhap we will have to gather flowers at night, Miles. I would like to see them.”

His hushed response was lost to her. Occasionally, Faith would nod and smile. Philippa captured her lower lip between her teeth and bit hard enough that the metallic tinge of blood filled her mouth. In this moment, she could almost convince herself that she and Faith and Violet could have those elusive gifts she’d long believed only fortunate ladies were lucky enough to receive.

And standing there, watching him so wholly effortless with her daughter, the truth trickled in like a quick moving poison. This was why she could never, ever marry Miles even if he did ask. Which he hadn’t. A man so at ease around children deserved offspring of his own.

Anguish weighted her chest and she drew in a ragged breath. And another. But it did not ease the vise about her lungs. Once upon a different time, when she’d been a young lady just out in London, optimistic with stars in her eyes, mayhap she could have met Miles and life would have belonged to them. They could have shaped a future together, different than the one she’d lived.

But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d been introduced to Calvin.

Yet, from her miserable marriage and for all her childbirths, she’d been blessed with Faith and Violet. She would never trade any of the agony of loss for those gifts.

And it was because of that, Philippa could never give Miles more.

Ever.





Chapter 11


Miles sat at his private table at the back corner of White’s, the same bottle of brandy he’d requested two hours earlier remained beside the untouched snifter.

After he’d taken his leave of Philippa, her haunted eyes and insistent words echoed around his mind; consuming his thoughts. …I can never, ever marry again. Even if you wish to do right by me… He stared blankly out, unseeing the gentlemen seated about him.

She’d endured a cold, emotionless marriage. Which was not vastly different than so many of the unions between lords and ladies.