CHAPTER 10

Fury surged through Philip.He could not believe how manipulative his mother could be. He did not wish to dance with anyone tonight. He had not come to the ball with plans to set foot on the dance floor. He was here for Georgina only. But his mother had organized for him to dance with Lady Rosalind Fitzwilliam, and there was nothing that he could do to refuse. Not without causing a scene anyway.

So he found himself in the one place that he did not want to be, twirling around the dance floor with a woman who had not yet stopped talking to him. Unfortunately, Philip could not take on a word that she was saying, because his attention was constantly drawn to another couple dancing.

Lady Verity and Lord Ambrose.

He felt terrible for Lady Verity. She had to be having a terrible time with Ambrose. Philip had only encountered the man a couple of times, but it had never been pleasant. More than that, rumors followed that man everywhere he went about his penchant for drinking and potentially gambling as well, although he wasn't too sure about that.

The woman who had captivated him with her intelligence deserved a much better man than that. She deserved a man who listened to her and cared about what she had to say. A man who listened to her words and cared about her interests. Someone who…

The music came to an end, sharply dragging Philip from his thoughts. He politely bowed to Lady Rosalind and escorted her back to the side lines. As they reached her parents, Lady Rosalind curtsied gracefully, her attention turning to them with a bright smile.

Philip managed a polite farewell before excusing himself, his steps purposeful as he navigated through the crowded ballroom, returning to his own mother.

But the relief he felt about not having to dance anymore was short lived.

"What a wonderful couple you make with Lady Fitzwilliam," his mother gushed excitedly. "I cannot believe how lovely and well matched you looked together."

A surge of frustration nearly knocked Philip off his feet. He could not believe what he was hearing. His mother's constant meddling had put him in this position in the first place. Now she was trying to push it even further. When would she learn that he simply wanted to be left alone?

"Philip, please," Georgina declared, swooping in at the perfect moment. "Escort me to the refreshment table. I would like a lemonade."

Relief flooded him as he obeyed his sister's request, offering her his arm as they turned away. As soon as they were away from their mother, he thanked his sister.

"Oh, I could sense that you needed a moment away from mother's scheming," Georgina chuckled. "I am just grateful that she has not started on me."

"She will," Philip warned darkly. "If you don't find someone suitable quickly, you will fall to the same fate as me."

A sadness clutched at Philip as he said this because he had found someone suitable young. He had married the person he thought that he would be with forever. If only sickness had not claimed Julianna. Then he would not find himself in this mess.

"Do you think you will dance with anyone else tonight?" Geogina asked the moment that she had a glass of lemonade in her hands. "I think it might be a good idea to do so. Just one dance with one woman makes quite the statement, do you not think?"

Philip could read between the lines of what his sister was saying to him. That if he did not want to run the risk of people assuming that he was absolutely going to court Lady Rosalind, then he needed to waltz with a few other people.

"I could introduce you to some of my friends, if that would make it easier for you," Georgina offered. "There is Lady Abigail Thompson, she is a lot of fun. Oh, and Lady Rose..."

Even though he knew that Georgina's words were not as filled with pressure as his mother's, he shook his head because he did not want to have more women brought his way. If he was truly honest with himself, there was only one person that he wanted to dance with. The woman that he had been watching out the corner of his eye all night long.

He could not recall her dancing with anyone else either. Just Lord Ambrose Aldford. So if he were to offer her a dance, that would be helpful for the both of them, right? That would be ensuring that no one read too much into the dances that they had before…

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Philip rested his drink on the refreshments table and scoured the room until he found her. It did not seem right that someone so beautiful was on the side lines of the night, not in the center of everything.

But perhaps Lady Verity did not like to be the center of attention. Just like him.

Philip's lips curled up into a smile as he left Georgina behind, making his way over to Lady Verity. His sister would be fine, this was her advice after all, so he was confident that this was the right thing to do.

As the strains of the waltz begin to fill the room, Philip, his heart racing with anticipation, approached Lady Verity. It was hard for him to ignore the nerves zig zagging through his system, but he still beamed regardless. Bowing deeply, Philip extended his hand out to her.

"Lady Sinclair, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

She did not answer right away. Philip glanced up a little to catch her eyes. All the color had drained from her cheeks, it was like his offer had shocked her speechless. Thankfully though, she started to nod slowly as she regained her sense.

"Yes," she finally whispered. "I would love to."

Thank goodness.

Verity's gloved hand slipped in to his and they made their way on to the dance floor. As they took their places, Philip was acutely aware of the curious glances and whispered speculations of those around them. A marquess and a spinster, they would probably be saying. How strange… But he did not care. Not one bit. This was where he wanted to be.

Philip steeled himself against the attention, focusing entirely on Verity. Her presence was a salve to his frayed nerves, her touch sending a spark of warmth through him. As they began to waltz, he felt the world narrow down to just the two of them, the chatter and stares of the ton fading in to the background.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation," Philip said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Verity gave a small, hesitant smile. "It's my pleasure, Lord Easton."

They moved gracefully together, their steps in perfect sync. For a moment, Philip forgot all about his mother's schemes and the pressures of society. Here, with Verity in his arms, everything felt right. He was no longer concerned with eyes upon him, only the woman in his arms.

"I must confess," Philip began, his voice low and earnest, "I have been wanting to talk to you since our last meeting. I enjoyed our conversation immensely."

Verity's eyes softened, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "As did I. It was a welcome respite from the usual dull chatter."

He chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words.

"I am glad to hear it. I have found myself thinking about your insights on art and your passion for literature. It's rare to find someone so well versed and genuinely interested."

Verity's smile grew more confident. "Thank you, Philip. It means a lot to hear that from you."

Philip felt a rush of relief at Verity's response, reassured by her genuine smile. As they continued to dance, their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between topics of mutual interest and shared experiences.

Verity spoke animatedly about her favorite paintings, describing the emotions they evoked in her with a clarity that captivated Philip. They moved with practiced ease across the polished floor, drawing admiring glances from some and speculative whispers from others.

Philip noticed the raised eyebrows and whispered comments but remained steadfastly focused on Verity. Her presence enveloped him, making the rest of the room fade in to insignificance.

As the music swirled around them, Philip realized how much he cherished this moment with Verity. It was a rare instance of finding someone who understood him beyond the constraints of polite society, someone who shared his passions and appreciated his company.

"I must admit," Philip began, a touch of vulnerability in his voice, "I have not felt this at ease in a long time."

Verity's eyes softened, her expression tender. "Nor have I, my lord."

The final notes of the waltz lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder that their time together was drawing to a close. Philip and Verity came to a graceful stop as the music concluded, their hands still clasped together. Despite the lingering gazes and hushed whispers around them, Philip found himself reluctant to release Verity's hand. He was acutely aware of the warmth it brought him, a stark contrast to the chilly atmosphere of this ballroom.

"Thank you, Lady Verity," Philip murmured sincerely, his gaze fixed on hers. "For granting me this dance and for your delightful company."

Verity's smile was radiant, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and something deeper that Philip dared not name just yet.

"The pleasure was entirely mine, Lord Easton. I... I did not expect to find such understanding and kindness tonight."

Philip's heart swelled with a rush of emotion at her words. He had hoped to make her evening a bit brighter amidst the rigidity of their social world.

"You deserve nothing less than genuine respect and admiration, Lady Verity."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, oblivious to the scrutiny of the on lookers. Philip wanted to savor this fleeting moment, to extend it for as long as he could. But of course, he could not. Philip felt a pang of regret as he gently guided Verity back to her mother's side. He wanted to hold on to this moment, to keep the connection they had forged from slipping away.

As they reached Lady Sinclair, Philip bowed gracefully. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Sinclair. It has been an evening I shall not soon forget."

Verity curtsied, her eyes meeting his with a promise of more to come. "Nor shall I, my lord."

Lady Sinclair observed the exchange with a keen eye, her expression unreadable.

"My lord," she said, inclining her head in acknowledgment. "We are honoured by your presence."

Philip responded with a courteous nod, his thoughts still lingering on Verity. "The pleasure was mine, Lady Sinclair. I hope to see you both again soon."

As he turned to leave, Philip cast one last glance at Verity. Her smile, radiant and full of unspoken promise, stayed with him as he made his way through the crowd.

The whispers and glances of the other guests no longer mattered. He had found something far more precious An unexpected bond that he was determined to nurture.

Philip sought out a quieter corner of the ballroom where he could collect his thoughts after that conversation with his mother. Leaning against a pillar, he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the memory of their dance. The way Verity had looked at him, the way their conversation had flowed effortlessly… these were moments he wanted to hold onto. Now he just needed to find a way to hold on to them without dishonoring his late wife.

Perhaps this was finally time that he could escape out on to the terrace, to take a look at the starry sky. That way he might be able to feel Julianna again, and to gain a better idea of what she might think about all of this.

Philip turned away from the bustling ballroom, grateful for a chance to catch his breath at long last. It had been another long night, and with the Season only just beginning, there was bound to be many more just like it.

He made his way through the grand halls of the estate, the strains of music fading behind him as he reached the terrace. The night air was cool against his skin, a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere inside. Philip gazed up at the starry sky, its vastness reminding him of the uncertainties that lay ahead.

"Julianna," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the distant murmur of voices from within. He closed his eyes, imagining her beside him, her presence comforting yet elusive like the stars above. "What would you think of this, my love?"

But of course, he did not get an answer, because this was a dilemma for him to deal with.

And him alone.