To Woo a Widow (The Heart of a Duke #10)(41)

Over the top of Violet’s head, Miles held Philippa’s gaze. He flashed her a secretive smile that caused a familiar fluttering in her belly. I love you, he mouthed. She touched quivering fingers to her breast. I love you, she returned.

“Mama?” Faith tugged at her skirts again.

“I am afraid I do not know what surprise Miles has for us.” And she didn’t. She knew nothing more than his calls for a picnic outside in the gardens where he would give Philippa, Faith, and Violet a very special gift.

“Is no one ready for a present?” Miles asked. Shifting Violet to the nook of his right arm, he used his spare hand to scratch at his forehead.

An excited squeal escaped Faith. “I am ready, Miles.”

He set Violet down and her older sister rushed to claim a spot beside her. Violet bounced up and down, clapping. “Ready.”

“This is a very special gift,” Miles told them in solemn tones. His tender effort to always present his mouth so Faith could see caused tears to blur Philippa’s vision. She blinked them back and found him studying her. “All my special ladies must be here.” He held his hand up for Philippa.

She allowed him to help her down to the spot beside him and as he turned his attention to the basket and fished out three small packages, her curiosity piqued. No one had ever given her a gift. Her late husband hadn’t cared enough about her to know her interests. Her family had been so mired down in simply surviving that those whimsical pleasures had escaped them.

Miles handed a small, wrapped package to each lady.

They stared expectantly back.

“Well, open them,” he urged. “They are yours.”

Faith tore into the soft wrap, as Miles helped Violet through the fine movements in opening hers. Philippa attended her package.

“Books, Mama,” Faith cried, waving around the small, thin, leather bound book. “He bought us each a book.”

“The same book,” Miles clarified.

Faith tipped her head. “The same?”

A gentle breeze wafted about them, tugging at the edge of the blanket. “Yes. For you see, this is not just any book,” he continued in those hushed tones that always managed to capture even Violet’s fleeting attention. “This is a special fairytale about a princess who was lost in a park.”

Dropping her attention to the leather book, Philippa opened it and her gaze snagged on the title. Our Story. Her heart started.

“The princess was lost like me,” Faith piped in.

“Like you,” he confirmed. “And this princess had a laughing, loving sister.”

“Violet,” Faith exclaimed.

Violet tossed her book aside and scrambled onto Miles’ lap.

Oh, God. Her fingers shaking, Philippa set aside the treasure he’d given them. Just one more beautiful gift. Her heart swelled.

“And these two princesses had a strong, courageous mother.” His voice hoarsened by emotion, Miles stretched a hand out and, wordlessly, Philippa slid her palm into his. The same heat that always burned at his touch went through her. “This mother was brave and beautiful in every way.”

Scrambling up onto her knees, Faith rushed over to Miles and clung to his shoulder. “Does the prince become a papa to them, like you are to me and Violet?”

Philippa buried a little sob in her fist, as he gently brushed a dark curl from Faith’s brow.

“He does,” he said quietly.

Faith took Miles’ face between her hands. “It is the perfect gift, Papa.”

The column of his throat worked.

Papa. For so long, Philippa had believed a nobleman incapable of seeing a child. She’d believed the tenderness Miles had shown Faith and Violet an elusive dream only recorded in fanciful tales. Until Miles. How much he’d shown her about love and life.

An orange-winged butterfly floated by and Violet wiggled off Miles’ lap and toddled over to it. “I touch it. I touch it.” As the little girl ambled over to the fluttering creature, Faith surged to her feet with a laugh and set out in chase.

Miles scooted over to Philippa’s side so they were shoulder to shoulder, staring out at their girls. “It is our story,” Philippa whispered. “You wrote our story.” A tear slid down her cheek and he turned and caught the drop with his thumb, flicking it away.

“You once told me that you’d ceased to believe in fairytales.” Gathering her fingers in his, Miles raised her knuckles to his lips and placed a lingering kiss that sent shivers radiating. “I wanted to gift you and our daughters with something to forever remind you of my love. A gift to remind each of you that fairytales are very much real.”

Another tear slid down her cheek. Followed by another. “Oh, Miles.” She shifted so they faced one another and worked her gaze lovingly over the planes of his face. “How can you not know?”

He shook his head.

Philippa rested her brow against his. “Together, you, Violet, and Faith, are the only gifts I ever wanted or needed, Miles. You showed me all those dreams are possible.”

The wind tossed one of his ginger strands over his eye. “Then let us write the rest of our story together.”

And with their daughters’ laughter ringing in the gardens, Philippa claimed his lips in a kiss, knowing that is just what they would do.

The End