To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(32)

All these years, Philippa had lamented that she was not more like her sister; strong, unwavering, fearless. Only to find out that Miles had, in fact, been correct.

She was far stronger than she’d ever credited.

Philippa smiled.

And before she left for the country and Miles was forever gone from her life, she would steal one more moment between them. That would be memory enough to live with her forever.

It would have to be.





Chapter 13


Standing behind the Scamozzi column in Lord and Lady Essex’s ballroom in the vibrant purple satin dress recently selected with Chloe, Philippa came to a new revelation. Apparently, the expectation was that young widows were only a little sad. The larger expectation from others was that she was in the market for a lover. Then, when I’m caught embracing a gentleman in the middle of Hyde Park, how should anyone expect anything different? Donning a gown with a deep décolletage did little to quell those assumptions, either. Her belly knotted. She’d not let them steal the simple joy in picking out the gown of her choosing. Societal expectations had already stolen enough of her happiness.

Just then, her gaze collided with a boldly staring Lord Montfort. A licentious smile turned his lips and she quickly stepped behind the pillar, heart racing. She peeked around the white column. Lord Improper-Eyes, as she’d dubbed him earlier that evening, skimmed the crowd and then found her once more. With a silent curse, she ducked behind the pillar again. Blasted gentleman.

Then, not all gentlemen are surely wicked. There was one who helped my daughter and paid a call and asked her questions…questions that hadn’t pertained to my interest in a lover. A man who’d kissed her days earlier and whom she’d not seen since.

Her heart danced a funny little beat as a tall, commanding figure entered Lord Essex’s ballroom. The hundreds of lit candles cast a soft glow upon his ginger tresses. Hugging herself close to the column, she secretly observed him as he strode with long, confident steps down the sweeping staircase. His path was intercepted by the Duke and Duchess of Bainbridge. Philippa watched on as the trio spoke with an easy familiarity. Occasionally, Miles tossed his head back on a laugh. He wore a smile. In every time she’d seen him, he did. Which was so at odds with everything she’d seen or known of her own stern-faced husband.

Her brother, Alex, a rogue, had long donned a false smile. Gabriel, hardly any at all, until his recent marriage. And yet, this man did. She’d not even known it possible.

He stiffened and then looked over the duke’s shoulder. Their eyes met.

A thrill went coursing through her; an inexplicable pull that froze the breath in her lungs. He dipped his head in a silent greeting; that sincere, half-grin on his lips. And mayhap she was one of those scandalous widows after all, for she lifted her fingers in a slight salutation.

A despised figure stepped between them, immediately shattering that slight, maddening connection and she quickly sank back. She hardened her mouth, staring at Miles’ mother. The same woman who’d entered her home yesterday morn and asked questions she had no right to. It was not, however, the nasty marchioness who earned her notice but rather the lovely blonde woman at her side. But for her spectacles, with her plump cheeks and golden curls, she may as well have been any other English lady in the room, and yet…there was an ease and comfort with which she spoke to Miles. Jealousy, sharp, gritty, and real, dug its sharp claws into her.

This was the woman. This was the lady his mother would see Miles wed. A woman, as she’d pointed out, who would give him children when Philippa would never traverse that dangerous path. Pain clogged her throat and she swallowed past the sizeable lump. It was why, even hating Miles’ mother for the bold words she’d uttered yesterday, she saw the truth in those words, as well. She touched her fingers to the pendant hanging at her throat.

Silly talisman. Though beautiful in what it symbolized, it was foolish for her to have even donned the gift as anything other than a lovely ornamentation given her by Jane. Philippa would not know the love of a man. It was one of those foolish, empty dreams she’d tricked herself into believing might exist for her.

The gray-haired marchioness stepped aside, motioning to the dance floor, and Miles found Philippa briefly with his gaze. With the distance between them, she could not make out the emotion in his eyes. Then he returned his attention to the woman singlehandedly selected by his mother and escorted the lady onto the floor for the next set. As the orchestra’s strands of the waltz soared about the room, couples twirled by in a violent explosion of vibrant gowns and tailed jackets. Young ladies with bright, innocent eyes and cheeks flushed with excitement. Yet, only one particular smiling couple earned her notice.

Miles easily guided the bespectacled woman through the motions of the waltz. Philippa tore her stare away from that perfectly paired couple and looked at the sea of smiling debutantes. Was I ever that innocent? Long ago, she’d been…

She closed her eyes a moment. As a girl of five who’d first suffered a birch rod being applied to her back by a father determined to beat obedience into his children, her innocence had been shattered. And yet…she opened her eyes, seeing those other ladies; hopeful and eager. And yet, for the horror of her childhood, hope had still dwelled inside. It was as Jane had only just opened her eyes to the fact that not all men were her father.

There were, in fact, gentlemen who were good and caring; capable of treating a woman and child with kindness and love when she and her own mother had known nothing but pain.