CHAPTER 5

Kew Gardens was beautiful. The meticulously maintained gardens, with their vibrant flowers and exotic plants were lovely to look at. Verity might have thoroughly enjoyed them, were it not for the company that she had to keep here.

She did not know why her mother had insisted that she meet with Ambrose and his daughters again, just because Henry had arranged it. Was it not uncomfortable enough over dinner? She knew how terrible it had been for Verity yet made her walk with them anyway.

But of course, Verity could not say no. So here she was, half listening to the conversation surrounding her.

"Where did you say you got that dress from?" Amelia demanded, running her eyes up and down Verity with an obvious scrutiny in them. "Bethany's Modiste does not make anything of that style."

"Nor does she use those colors," Cordelia scoffed. "I don't think she would ever create something so… plain looking."

Verity parted her lips, about to shoot back a scathing reply, but nothing came to mind. At this point, she wasn't sure if there was anything she could say to please Ambrose's daughters. They clearly were not impressed with her, and she had to admit to herself that she felt the same way about them.

Thay had been nothing but unpleasant and rude to her. Conversation with them made her feel suffocated, like it was a challenge for her to breathe was most certainly not how she wished to spend the rest of her life. If only her brother could understand that.

The winding paths took them all down towards a river, and while everyone wanted to see the water, Verity took a moment to study a particularly beautiful display of blooms. Her ladies maid remained by her side, but as everyone else continued to walk, Verity was finally able to let out a breath of relief.

She needed this.

She needed to be away from the tension. It was all too much.

She ran her fingers along the flower petals, smiling to herself. Now this would make a beautiful painting. She just needed to be sure to commit the image of it to memory. She most certainly did not wish to forget about it.

"Verity," her mother cried out. "We are moving on."

"I will catch up with you in a moment," Verity called back. "I just need to study this."

Her mother was used to her artistic requests by now, and while Henry might not like it, she knew that he would be too busy trying to impress Ambrose to pay too much attention to what she was doing.

Thank goodness.

Lost in the thoughts of what she would paint as soon as she got home, Verity took a few steps along the path, trying to find some other flowers to paint. She did not notice anyone else along the path with her. She most certainly did not notice the tall, broad gentleman rounding the corner until her body collided with his.

The force of the impact was a little too much for her. As she staggered backwards, Verity found herself completely unable to find her footing again. Fearing the worst, embarrassment flooded her veins as she prepared herself to fall.

Verity seemed completely unable to remain in the shadows, however hard she tried. She always seemed to bring attention her way, whether she wanted to or not.

But thankfully, she did not tumble all the way to the ground. The gentleman in front of her reacted quickly. He reached out and steadied her before anything too dramatic could happen. The warm feeling of his hand upon her was a welcome sensation. But the tingling that immediately cascaded all the way through her body was a surprise.

Heat burned in Verity's cheeks as she tried her hardest to regain composure.

"I am so terribly sorry," she gasped as she tried to get her breath back. "I did not mean to…"

But the words fell apart on her lips as she caught sight of the man's captivating kind eyes and warm smile. He did not seem upset by her silly accident at all, which was a relief. The last thing she needed today was drama. This kindness was very much appreciated.

"Don't worry at all," he told her in a chocolatey smooth voice which truly sent a shudder down her spine. "It's nice to meet you. I am Lord Philip Easton, the Marquess of Eilendale. I understand how you got distracted. These gardens are absolutely beautiful, these flowers in particular are very eye catching."

"Y… yes," she stammered back. "They are quite wonderful." She swallowed hard. "I am Lady Verity Sinclair."

"Lady Verity Sinclair," he repeated, like he wanted to commit her name to memory.

Something about the way he said her name made her lips curl up in to a smile.

"It's very nice to meet you, Lady Verity Sinclair. What brings you to Kew Gardens on this fine day?"

"I am here with my family," she replied guardedly. "But really, I am here to decide on my next art project."

She wasn't sure why she had mentioned art. Maybe because she needed someone to understand her in a way that Ambrose most certainly had not.

"Oh, you are a painter?" His eyes widened with genuine interest. "What do you like to paint?"

No one usually asked these questions. It might have seemed like a very simple question to anyone else, but this meant a lot to Verity.

"Landscapes, mostly. I enjoy painting nature and sceneries such as this one. Kew Gardens is the perfect place to paint. It stirs an emotional reaction in a person, and I like to try and capture that on a canvas."

"Oh yes, it's always wonderful when an art piece makes me feel things. Those are the images that impress me the most. That I can stand all day looking at."

Verity was surprised and impressed by this man, so as he started to walk along the orchids, she joined him with her heart pounding, but from excitement. It had been a long time since anyone made her feel this way, and she wasn't ready to let it go as of yet.

As they walked, Verity found herself stealing glances at Lord Philip. He had an air of genuine interest that was both refreshing and disarming.

"So, do you often visit Kew Gardens, my lord?" Verity asked, attempting to prolong their conversation.

Philip smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Whenever I can, Lady Verity. I find that the tranquility here offers a much needed escape from the rigors of my duties. Nature has a way of calming the mind and invigorating the spirit."

Verity nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "Indeed, it does. I often find inspiration in the most unexpected places. Sometimes, it's a single flower or a particular shade of green that sets my mind racing with ideas."

Philip paused by a particularly vibrant bed of tulips, turning to face her. "I would love to see your work some time. Your passion for art is evident, and I am curious to see how you translate that passion on to canvas."

Her cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. "I... I would be honored to show you my work, my lord. Though, I must warn you, I am still very much an amateur."

"A humble artist," Philip mused, his tone appreciative as he smiled at her. "I find that humility often accompanies true talent."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange revealing more about their shared love for the arts and the solace they found in nature.

Philip's gentle demeanor put Verity at ease, allowing her to momentarily forget the weight of her brother's pressure to accept a match with Ambrose. She found herself laughing and sharing stories about her art she had rarely told anyone. Mostly because she did not think that anyone would be interested. Not like he was.

"I believe this is my favorite part of the gardens," Philip remarked, his eyes twinkling as he observed her taking in the scene.

"It's lovely," Verity agreed, her voice soft. "There is something magical about roses. They symbolize so much. Love, beauty, even secrecy."

"Secrecy?" Philip raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yes," Verity smiled. "In ancient times, a rose hung over a meeting place signified that everything spoken there was to be kept confidential. It's where the phrase ‘sub rosa' comes from."

Philip chuckled. "You are a fountain of knowledge, Lady Verity. I must admit, I did not know that."

She blushed slightly, pleased that her comment had intrigued him. "I enjoy reading," she said modestly. "It helps me understand the world better, and it also provides endless inspiration for my art. Almost as much as the beautiful world around me."

"I can see that," Philip replied warmly. "Knowledge and art often go hand in hand. Both require a deep understanding and appreciation of the world around us. I can see that you truly do have that."

Verity found herself nodding, once again struck by how much they seemed to have in common. "Exactly. Every painting is a story, and every story has layers of meaning that only reveal themselves when you look closely."

Verity's respite was short lived however. The sound of approaching footsteps shattered the tranquil moment. It was her brother. Henry's expression was one of mild irritation, mixed with a hint of curiosity as he approached. His eyes flicked between Verity and Philip; suspicion evident in his gaze.

"There you are, Verity," he said, his tone curt. "Mother has been looking for you. We were beginning to worry."

Verity's heart sank at the interruption.

"I was just admiring the flowers, Henry," she replied, striving to keep her tone light so as not to arise suspicion. Not that she had actually done anything wrong… even if she felt like she had. "This is Lord Philip Easton, the Marquess of Eilendale. We were just discussing art."

Henry's eyes narrowed slightly as he extended a hand to Philip. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Philip. I am Henry Sinclair, Verity's brother."

Philip shook Henry's hand, his demeanor remaining as warm and friendly as ever.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Sinclair. Your sister has a remarkable eye for beauty and detail. I was just admiring her knowledge and passion for art."

Henry forced a tight smile. "Yes, Verity has always been quite the artist. But I am afraid we must be going now. Our company is waiting."

Verity felt a pang of disappointment, but she knew better than to argue with her brother in front of company. She turned to Philip, her eyes reflecting her regret. "Thank you for the lovely conversation, my lord."

Philip's smile was reassuring. "Thank you, Lady Verity. Until we meet again, may your inspiration never wane."

With a final nod, Verity allowed Henry to lead her away, her heart heavy with the loss of the unexpected but delightful encounter. She could still feel the warmth of Philip's presence and the spark of connection they had shared. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time, and it left her yearning for more.

As they walked back to rejoin their party, Henry spoke in a low, admonishing tone. "Verity, you must be more careful. We cannot afford any impropriety, especially not with Lord Ambrose and his daughters present. You know what is at stake."

Verity bit back a retort, knowing it would do no good. "I understand, Henry. I was merely enjoying the gardens. Is that so wrong?"

"You can enjoy the gardens with the people you came here with. Remember what we are trying to do."

The brief encounter had left her feeling both exhilarated and conflicted, wondering if she would ever have the chance to pursue her own desires and find a genuine connection in a world that seemed determined to dictate her future.

It seemed unlikely but gave her something to hope for.

Amelia, with her sharp eyes, sidled up to Verity as they strolled through the manicured lawns. "Admiring the orchids, were you?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Verity forced a smile. "Yes, they were quite exquisite. Had you seen the ones near the river?"

Cordelia joined in, her voice equally probing. "We were wondering why it took you so long to rejoin us. Did you get lost in the gardens?"

Verity met their gazes, her expression carefully neutral. "I simply lost track of time, that's all."

The two sisters exchanged glances but said nothing more, for now. Verity breathed a silent sigh of relief, but the tension in the air was palpable.

How on earth was she going to survive this now?