CHAPTER 20

If Philip slid his eyes closed and blocked out the outside world, which was very easy to do in the solitude of his library, then he could quite easily transport himself back to the gardens, and to his intimate moment with Lady Verity. The memory of her soft skin beneath his fingertips and the longing in her eyes sent a warm shiver down his spine.

He allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, what might have happened if he had been bold enough to kiss her. The memory was vivid, the scene replaying itself in his mind's eye, almost knocking him off kilter completely.

Verity stood before him, the soft breeze rustling the leaves around them, her eyes wide and shimmering with unspoken emotions. Her breath had hitched when his fingers brushed against her cheek, and for a heartbeat, the world had seemed to stand still.

What if he had leaned in closer, erasing the space between them?

He could almost feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. Her lips, soft and inviting, would part slightly in anticipation. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing the same rhythm he felt in that moment. He could nearly taste the sweetness of her lips, the way they would yield to his in a gentle yet passionate embrace.

In his imagination, their surroundings would fade away completely, leaving just the two of them suspended in that perfect moment. He would have wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer, feeling her body melt in to his. The kiss would start tenderly, a hesitant exploration, but soon deepen as their mutual longing broke through the surface. Verity's hands would clutch at his coat, grounding them both as they nearly lost their minds. Philip's mind lingered on the imagined feel of her lips moving against his, soft and insistent, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture. The taste of her, sweet and intoxicating, would be something he could never forget. Her scent, a delicate mix of lavender and something uniquely her own, would envelop him, leaving him craving more.

Philip's fingers tightened around the arm rest of his chair, the intensity of his daydream almost overwhelming.

"Philip!"

"What is this?"

She entered the library with the scandal sheet clutched tightly in her hand. Philip stared in silence as his mother slammed the paper down on the table in front of him, her eyes filled with disappointment and frustration.

"Look at this. Look at the gossip column, Philip. This headline here which speculates on your involvement with a jilted spinster. I thought I told you to keep away from her, Philip. I thought I warned you that she was trouble. Look at what you are doing here. Look at what you are doing to your family. Poor Georgina…"

She clucked her tongue and shook her head, clearly unimpressed.

"I am trying my hardest to help you and your sister out, but you are making it very difficult for all of us. You must prioritize your duties, Philip, and find a match of equal standing. Lady Rosalind…"

"No, Mother, I don't want to hear it," Philip snapped before his mother could get too deeply entrenched in her monologue. "I don't want to talk about Lady Rosalind. I have been spending time with Lady Verity because I enjoy her company. Because I like her…"

"Are you trying to tell me that you have feelings for her?"

Philip paused and nodded slowly. "Yes, my feelings for her are growing. I cannot deny that. This gossip is baseless, but my feelings for Lady Verity are genuine and meaningful."

Adelaide tutted angrily. "You are being ridiculous, Philip. You cannot fall for a woman like Lady Verity. She is completely unsuitable for you. Can you imagine her as a future marchioness? It makes no sense at all. She is not suitable."

"But…"

"But nothing," Adelaide snapped. "Lady Fitzwilliam is much more perfect for you. She would be an advantageous match for you. She is from an impeccable lineage with a substantial dowry. There is a potential for a strong alliance between our families. I don't know why you would do anything to jeopardize that."

Anger rolled through Philip. He wasn't quite sure how he could make his mother understand what he was trying to say. But this was far too important to Philip, he needed to stand his ground.

"Lady Rosalind might be perfect for me on paper. She may well have all the qualities that you think I need in a wife, but I don't agree with you, Mother. She does not capture my heart, she does not make me feel a thing, I don't have anything to say to her…"

"You don't need to talk, you only need to produce an heir."

Philip scoffed. "Then I would rather not be married at all."

"You were spoiled, Philip. Your marriage to Julianna was a wonderful one, and yes, I know that you were very much in love with her. I know that you enjoyed one another's company, but that is not reality. That is not how most people live their lives. So many people around you marry for necessity, because they need to carry on the family lineage."

"That sounds horrible, Mother. Do you hear yourself?"

Adeliade shrugged her shoulders, completely dismissing Philip's concerns. "You know that this is how the world works. I don't know what you are complaining about."

"I am complaining because you will not hear me. You don't seem to care about anything I have to say…"

"Because you are being silly."

"Because I want to follow my heart? That is silly to you?"

"You are talking as if I am not letting you make your own choices, Philip. This is not the case. I am simply trying to steer you in the right direction. I am trying to guide you in the right way, as any parent would, to ensure that you protect the family reputation."

"Reputation over heart. I see that."

Philip knew that this wasn't going anywhere. He would not back down, and it appeared that Adelaide wasn't going to change her mind either. They would simply end up yelling at one another until they both said things that they did not mean.

"I am going for a ride."

"Philip, we have resolved nothing," his mother called after him as he walked away, but he did not stop.

He would not be surprised if he ended up married to Lady Rosalind without even realizing it. If his mother would play some trick on him, leading him towards a wedding that he did not know was going to happen.

Why on earth would he wed someone he did not like? Especially when he had met someone who did make his heart sing? Just because Verity wasn't considered an ‘ideal wife' for him, he could not change his heart. He could not make himself fall for someone who was simply not right for him.

As Philip mounted his horse and rode out into the countryside, he let the wind whip away the remnants of his argument with his mother. The open fields offered a sense of freedom and clarity that he desperately needed. The further he rode from his family estate, the lighter he felt, as if each step of the horse was a step away from the suffocating expectations placed upon him.

He knew he needed to find a way to see Lady Verity again. The thought of her brought a sense of calm and happiness that was starkly missing from his life. But how could he when it felt like the whole world was watching his every move?

As the sun began to set, he found himself at the edge of a familiar grove, a place where he and Verity had once shared a picnic with her family.

He dismounted, allowing his horse to graze while he sat on a fallen log, contemplating his next move. But of course, he also had to think about the obligations he faced as the Marquess of Eilendale.

The conflict between his head and his heart was almost unbearable. His title came with obligations that he could not simply wish away, but his heart yearned for Verity. The conflict was tearing him apart, and he needed a solution.

He recalled the many conversations he had shared with Verity, the easy laughter, and the deep connection that seemed to grow stronger with each encounter. In her presence, he felt understood, valued, and seen for who he truly was, rather than the title he bore. He longed to confide in her, to share the burdens he carried and to seek her counsel. Her wisdom and kindness always seemed to provide clarity in the most tumultuous of times.

The thought of Verity brought a small smile to his lips, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of their situation. His mother's harsh words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the impossibility of his desires.

He stood up, brushing the dirt from his coat, knowing that he could not remain here forever. Mounting his horse, Philip knew that his brain wasn't cleared yet, but he hoped that riding some more would change that. He gently urged his horse forward, hoping the rhythm of the ride would calm his turbulent thoughts. But instead, as his thoughts grew more tumultuous, so did his pace. The gentle trot quickly became a canter, then a full gallop. The countryside blurred past him, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth matched the frantic beat of his heart. He leaned forward, pressing his body closer to his horse, urging it faster and faster.

The wind tore at his hair and clothes, but he barely noticed. His focus was solely on the speed, the sensation of escaping everything that weighed him down. The landscape around him transformed into a streak of colors, and he felt an exhilarating rush as the horse's powerful muscles worked beneath him.

Faster and faster he rode, until the line between thrill and recklessness began to blur. He ignored the treacherous dips and rises of the terrain, driven by a need to outrun the expectations that suffocated him. The horse's breath came in heavy, labored gasps, but Philip could not bring himself to slow down.

He needed to feel the edge, to push beyond the constraints of his title, his obligations, his entire life. The ground beneath them became a blur, and he finally realized he was riding recklessly, dangerously fast.

Lost in his turbulent emotions, Philip failed to notice a low hanging branch in his path.

At least, he did not notice it until it collided with his face.

Before he could react, the branch struck him, knocking him off his horse and sending him tumbling to the ground. Pain exploded through his body as his head collided with a rock on the ground, and the world around him started to fade to black. Philip lay unconscious on the ground, barely able to hear his horse nervously pacing nearby as his vision pin holed.

As Philip lay there, the sounds around him seemed distant and muffled, like echoes in a dream. His consciousness flickered in and out, the pain in his head pulsing with each heartbeat. Through the haze, he heard faint voices, snippets of conversation that floated around him.

"...carriage collision..."

The words barely registered in his clouded mind, but a sense of unease stirred within him. Could it be that his reckless ride wasn't the only danger that had beset him? Had there been another incident, another victim of fate's unpredictable hand? He struggled to open his eyes, his vision blurry and swimming. Shapes moved around him, indistinct and wavering.

He tried to call out, but his voice was feeble, barely a whisper lost in the evening breeze. Hands gently touched his shoulder, and he felt someone kneeling beside him.

A voice, clearer now, spoke with urgency. "Can you hear me? Sir, can you hear me?"

Philip wanted to respond but he could not find the words.

It was as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs completely and he had nothing left. He could not respond however hard he tried.