CHAPTER 18

It was a relief to be walking along side Lady Verity, with her lady's maid walking at a discrete distance behind them. Anything was better than drowning in Lady Rosalind's constant attention and the suffocating expectations of his mother. He could not understand why his mother was so insistent that he spend all of his time with Lady Rosalind when he had made it obvious that he wasn't interested in her.

Obviously because she was suitable. But that wasn't enough. Not for Philip.

How could he be interested in her when his heart raced so rapidly every time, he stole a glance at Verity? He could not see anyone else when he was struck marveling at the way the speckled sun light danced across her delicate features, illuminating the golden strands of her hair, highlighting her lovely pink lips like that. He could hardly take his eyes off her sparkling gaze and her sweet smile.

"Did you enjoy the display at Somerset House in the end?" Philip asked her, knowing that this was going to be something that Verity enjoyed… except for the company, perhaps.

"Oh yes, it was rather wonderful. The paintings there were really captivating."

Philip chuckled. "I thought so too. Although I would have liked to see more landscapes. A painting of a garden like this one would have been perfect."

"Oh, how I would love to be the one who painting Lady Maria's Garden. Those flowers over there would be stunning. Can you imagine them on a canvas? They would absolutely grow. That shade of orange is glorious."

He liked the way that her eyes shone with excitement at the mention of the gardens. Every single time he spoke to her, he felt like he learned exciting new information about her. He was always hungry for more.

He could not help himself.

"Yes, I would love to see a painting of something like this, especially if you painted it."

"You would?" Verity asked with a blush.

Philip grinned. "You know, I would love to see some of your paintings. I am sure they are wonderful."

A pinkness deepened in Verity's cheeks which only made her more stunning. Every time she was passionate about something, or she spoke deeply about it, Philip's desire for her bloomed and grew. He did not mean for this to happen, but it had happened regardless.

Now he simply needed to work out what he wanted to do with this information before his mother dragged him down the aisle and made him marry Lady Rosalind. He would never be able to talk with Lady Rosalind about anything like this.

"I don't usually show people my paintings," she confessed. "But I am sure I could show them to you at some point if that is what you want."

They continued to walk, and the conversation flowed wonderfully. It seemed like neither of them would ever run out of things to say to one another.

Philip wasn't even sure how it happened, but he found himself talking about things he would not normally say to another person.

"…I struggle under the constant pressure to conform to the expectations of his family and society. The weight of my responsibilities can be overbearing at times."

The words poured out of him like a cathartic release of the burdens he had carried for so long. He had not even realized that he was feeling so bad until this very moment.

But with Verity, the words were easy to let free.

"I understand exactly how you feel," she admitted quietly, much to Philip's surprise. "I also find the weight of societal pressures too much to bear. It's very isolating to be a woman in a world that wants to dictate my every move. A world that judges me for things that are simply out of my control. The events that have happened recently with the scandal sheets is evidence of that. A stark reminder that this is a very cruel world."

Philip's heart ached for her, longing to offer comfort and support. Much as he yearned to ask Verity about her connection with Ambrose, to see what it truly was, he knew that he could not. It would be crossing a line, and he did not wish to do anything that might push Verity away. He enjoyed their conversations far too much for that. He liked talking to the only woman who seemed to see beyond his title and the facade he presented to the world, straight into his very soul.

It was terrifying, to be really seen in such a way, but it was also utterly exhilarating.

"Do you like soirees such as this one?" Philip asked Verity as they turned a corner, deeper in to the gardens. "Because I have always found them a little challenging."

Verity smiled, seemingly understanding him. "Yes, I know what you mean. It's hard to know if people are being honest when they speak to you. It's hard to know what people are whispering behind your back. Being featured in the scandal sheets only made that so much worse."

"Oh yes that is not a fate I would wish upon anyone," Philip laughed. "I have never bothered to read the sheets before now, and once they stop talking about me, I will never read them again."

All of a sudden, the found themselves in a secluded alcove, surrounded by beautiful rose bushes and a nearby fountain. Neither of them seemed to know exactly how they had ended up in such a small area, but the bubble that had surrounded them when they were picnicking at Hyde Park wrapped even tighter around them now.

For a moment, it truly did feel like there was no one around but them.

Even Louisa was busying herself by the fountain to give them a minute of much needed privacy.

Philip could not resist. He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I admire you, Verity. Your courage and beauty. You really are the most impressive woman that I have ever met. The way that you handle everything with such grace and decorum is wonderful to see."

"Do… do you really mean that?" Verity whispered back; her eyes wide with surprise. "Truly?"

Philip nodded; his gaze unwavering. "Every word. You are remarkable, Verity. In every possible way."

Verity's breath hitched, a mix of emotions flickering across her face. "Thank you, Philip. That means more to me than you can imagine."

For a brief, charged moment, they stood close together, the world around them fading in to a soft blur of colors and sounds. The sweet scent of roses mingled with the gentle murmur of the fountain, creating an intimate cocoon.

Philip inhaled deeply, breathing in her gorgeously floral scent. He was more attracted to her in this moment than ever before.

"I wish," Philip began, his voice soft and earnest, "that we could escape from all these expectations. Just for a while. To be ourselves without the constant scrutiny."

Verity nodded, her eyes flickering with understanding. "I wish for that too. It's hard to find moments of genuine connection in a world so focused on appearances and status. On titles and names.."

Philip reached out, his hand lightly brushing against hers.

The touch sent a jolt of warmth through both of them, shocking them both.

"Perhaps we can find those moments together," he suggested, his voice a gentle promise. "Even if they are fleeting, they can be ours."

Verity's eyes shimmered with emotion as she looked up at him. "I would like that very much, Philip."

In that moment, all Philip could think of was kissing her. He cupped her face gently, his thumb caressing her soft cheek as he leaned closer, lost in the depths of her gaze. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this secluded, magical alcove.

Verity's breath hitched; her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in to his touch. Philip's heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing in his ears as he drew nearer to her. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a tangible force pulling them together.

He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the softness of her cheek beneath his thumb. Their breaths mingled, shallow and rapid, as the space between their lips grew smaller and smaller.

"Philip," Verity whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

The sound of his name on her lips was like a spark, igniting a fire deep within him. He leaned in, his resolve firm, and just as their lips were about to meet…

A sudden rustling noise shattered the spell. They both jerked back, startled, their heads turning in unison toward the source of the interruption.

Voices.

Startled, they both stepped back, reality rushing in to fill the space between them.

They turned to see Lady Rosalind, accompanied by Cedric, Daphne, Adelaide, Georgiana, and Lord Darlington, rounding the corner. Philip hastily stepped even further back, his heart pounding as he noticed Verity flushing, her cheeks stained a delicate pink.

"It seems we have found a charming little hideaway," Daphne remarked, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "Quite the intimate spot."

Luckily, Lady Verity's lady's maid was by her side in an instant, so things could not be misconstrued.

Thank goodness for her.

Philip forced a smile, trying to mask his frustration at the interruption. "Indeed, it's a lovely spot. We were just admiring the roses."

Rosalind's eyes flicked between Philip and Verity; her expression unreadable.

"Yes, the roses are beautiful," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "Shall we return to the tea table? Lady Maria is about to announce the next activity."

"Of course," Philip replied, trying his hardest to ignore his mother's death stares. He did not want to know what she had to say about all of this. It was bound to be horrifying. He was sure to have humiliated her again by following his own heart and doing what he wanted to do.

Being free, if only for a minute, had made him crave so much more of that.

As they walked back toward the tea table, Philip felt a deep, lingering ache. A hole where his heart used to be. That shattered moment stole what was left of his heart and he wasn't sure if he could ever get it back.

The tension between them was still palpable, the near kiss hanging in the air like a tantalizing secret.

Lady Maria, with her usual grace and poise, welcomed them back with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Ah, there you are! We were beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost among the roses."

Philip offered a polite nod. "Just admiring the beauty of the gardens, Lady Maria. They are truly magnificent."

"Yes, indeed," she replied, her gaze briefly flicking to Verity. "Now, shall we proceed with the next activity? A game of charades, I believe. Everyone is ready and eager to play."

Philip nodded slowly.He wondered where Lady Verity had gone. She wasn't still with them, which was worrying.

But then why would she want to be? The fear of yet another scandal was utterly unbearable… almost as terrifying as the idea of the consequences that he was most definitely going to face when he got home from his mother. She was still shooting eye daggers his way and he hated it.

Why would she simply not allow him to live his life as he saw fit?