Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

" A re you aware that your relentless pacing is quite distracting?" Viscount Whitley's voice cut through Philip's thoughts.

They were in the drawing room closest to the study, a chessboard spread out on the table, waiting for the game to begin.

Philip stopped abruptly, realizing his restlessness had betrayed his thoughts. It wasn't usual for him to pace so frequently, yet here he was, his mind utterly unsettled, all because of her .

"I did not realize I was," he grunted, running a hand through his hair as he turned toward Oliver.

The Viscount raised an eyebrow and gestured to the chessboard. "Do you still care for this game, or are we just pretending now?"

Philip gave a noncommittal shrug, his eyes drifting once again toward the window as he tried to shake off the nagging guilt that had settled over him since his ride with Aurelia.

He didn't know how to explain it to Oliver, or to himself. He had been the cause of his wife's injury, after all. The additional fact that he hadn't apologized for it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Apologies were not his forte.

"Is anything the matter?" Oliver's voice pulled him out of his thoughts again.

"No," Philip said curtly, although he knew that wasn't true. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for a suitable explanation. "Just…someone owes me a debt and they are being difficult."

Oliver chuckled, the sound filled with disbelief. "Is that so? I did not think anyone else could owe you money and give you enough trouble to make you pace like this. Certainly not like your wife's father."

Philip's jaw tightened. He had no response to that; his thoughts were already far away from debts and schemes.

His gaze drifted back to the window. In the distance he could see Aurelia sitting in the garden. Her maid, Eilidh, was with her, carefully setting her injured leg on a stool while Aurelia sipped from a glass.

"Well, well," Oliver muttered as he followed Philip's gaze to the garden. "I see now. It's not a debt that has led to your pacing." He stood up and walked over to the window and rested a hand on Philip's shoulder in a companionable gesture. "She is in fact the one troubling you, is she not?"

Philip didn't answer, his eyes still fixed upon his wife.

He was silent for so long that Oliver spoke again, this time more cautiously.

"You still have the same thoughts you had when you first married her, don't you? Or…have you changed your mind?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, its weight settling heavily on Philip's mind. He tore his eyes away from Aurelia and stared down at the chessboard, its pieces unmoved.

"I still think of her the same," he finally muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. "A piece on the board, no different from the rest."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Really? You expect me to believe that?"

Philip turned his back to the window, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. "Believe what you want, but I have no reason to change my view. She is part of a plan and that has not changed."

"Perhaps," Oliver relented, walking back toward the chessboard. "But I wonder if you are being entirely honest with yourself."

Philip's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Oliver laughed softly, shaking his head. "Oh, come now, Philip. Do you really think I have not noticed? You have been staring out the window since you saw her and pacing back and forth like a trapped animal."

Philip's jaw clenched at his friend's words, but before he could offer a rebuttal, Oliver continued.

"You know, there is no shame in it. Her Grace is quite a…captivating woman. A challenge if you will."

"A challenge?" Philip's voice was sharp, filled with disbelief. "She is manipulative. That is all there is to it," he scoffed, thinking back to the past days and her efforts to seduce him.

"Manipulative or determined?" Oliver quipped. "It depends on how you look at it."

Philip huffed and crossed the room, running a hand across the mantelpiece in frustration. "I do not need your lectures, Oliver. I know what she is, and I know what she wants."

"And what do you want?" Oliver shot back, his tone suddenly more serious. "You're not usually so…indecisive."

Philip paused, his hand stilling on the mantel. What did he want? He had told himself countless times that Aurelia was nothing more than a pawn in a grand scheme, but with each day that passed he found himself questioning that notion more and more.

She had been bold, yes, pushing her seduction to its limits, teasing him with her wit and her touch. He had been taken off guard, perhaps even fascinated by her advances.

But admitting that? No. Not to Oliver. Not to anyone.

"I want what I have always wanted," Philip said at last, his voice colder now. "Control."

Oliver studied him for a long moment, then sighed and walked back to his chair. "Control, eh? You are going to find that difficult with a woman like her. But I suppose you already know that."

Philip clenched his fists, his mind racing. He knew that Oliver was right. Aurelia was a force to be reckoned with, and each day that passed, his resolve to keep her at arm's length weakened. It had been by God's grace that he was able to get a one-day reprieve from her, given her injury.

But no matter how much she intrigued him, he couldn't allow himself to let down his guard. She was still a threat, still tied to the man who had wronged him and his family.

"I have it under control," he stated firmly, more to himself than to Oliver.

Oliver shrugged, pouring himself another glass of scotch. "If you say so, old friend. But remember, some pieces on the chessboard have a mind of their own. They cannot be played so easily."

Aurelia sat upright in her chair, her eyes sharp as she watched her husband and Viscount Whitley exit the manor. She had expected them to head directly toward the Viscount's carriage, but to her surprise they began walking in her direction.

The moment they approached Aurelia straightened her posture and offered a smile. "Lord Whitley," she greeted politely, "I trust you are well."

Oliver inclined his head, returning her smile. "Your Grace," he returned with a respectful bow. "I hear you have suffered a slight injury. How fares your ankle?" he asked, looking down at her injured ankle, wrapped tightly in bandages.

Aurelia forced a rueful laugh. "Oh, it is nothing too dreadful, I assure you. Merely a sprain, but I am afraid it has rendered me quite stationary," she said, her smile remaining.

"I see. Quite unfortunate," the Viscount murmured, glancing briefly at Philip who remained silent beside him. "I wish you a swift recovery. It is not every day that one can see a Duchess quite so at ease in the garden, though it appears the sun may be a bit unkind today."

Aurelia chuckled lightly. "Indeed. I am sure the warmth will be the least of my concerns."

During this exchange, Philip remained silent, though his gaze stayed fixed on her. She could feel his eyes watching her closely, reading her, perhaps even assessing her. The sensation was unsettling although not unwelcome.

"Thank you for your well wishes, My Lord," she said warmly. "Do enjoy your journey back."

Oliver gave a brief nod, casting a glance at Philip. "Until next time, then," he said, before turning toward his carriage.

Philip accompanied his friend to his coach. Aurelia's eyes followed them for a moment, her heart racing as the first part of her plan fell into place.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned to her maid. "Eilidh," she said in a low voice, "please return to the house and remain in your chamber until you are summoned."

Eilidh obeyed without question, curtseying quickly before hurrying into the manor.

Aurelia smiled to herself in satisfaction. Yesterday had passed without her seeing Philip because he had shut himself in his study.

However, when she heard news of the Viscount's impending visit, she saw it as an opportunity to meet and speak with her husband and perhaps even continue where she had left off mere days ago.

Aurelia had expected some distance between them, but she hadn't anticipated how much it would bother her. Now she was ready to close the gap, determined to ensure her husband wouldn't escape her attentions again.

She settled back into her chair, pretending to drink from the glass in her hand, though the heat of the day weighed on her.

A little discomfort for a greater reward.

Moments later, she saw her husband walking toward her.

"Your Grace," she called out as he approached her, lowering the glass from her lips. "May I have a moment?"

Philip glanced in her direction, his expression unreadable, though he paused as if considering her request.

Aurelia offered him a faint smile. "I would like to return to my room," she explained, her voice soft. "But my maid…I sent her to fetch me another glass of juice…and she has not yet returned."

Philip's gaze remained fixed on her, as though he was debating something.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms.

"Oh!" she gasped lightly, surprised that he had not uttered a single word.

She had expected some resistance, expected him to at least tell her to wait for her maid, but this was much better. Still, she could barely suppress the small flutter in her chest as she felt the warmth of his body against her. It was the third time that he'd held her like this.

As he carried her back into the manor and up the stairs, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his chest.

A quiet satisfaction filled her. This closeness, though perhaps unintended, was a victory.

Once inside her chambers, Philip lowered her gently onto the bed. Aurelia could feel the lingering warmth of his touch.

She glanced up at him, a question perching on the tip of her tongue. "Why did you not come to see me yesterday?"

Philip's brow furrowed at the sudden question, his back stiffening. "See you?"

Aurelia nodded. "Yes. I thought…you might check in on me to see how I was faring."

There was a pause, then Philip answered coldly, "We do not have that type of relationship."

Aurelia blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of his words. "Oh, I see…" she murmured. But she was not ready to let the conversation end there. "I suppose you have found my attempts at seduction rather tiresome, then?"

Philip's jaw tightened. "Entertaining, yes. But now they have become a burden. I would prefer it if you stopped."

The bluntness of his reply hit her harder than she had expected, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she met his gaze, her voice steady. "I see. And what of us, then? Are we not to move forward at all?"

His expression darkened. "Move forward?" He took a step closer to her, his eyes narrowing. "Have you forgotten so quickly? Your father remains a murderer, wife. You are nothing more than payment for his debts."

The words struck her like a blow. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest but she kept her composure. She would not let him see her falter.

"You would do well," he continued, his voice hard, "to remember your place in all of this."

Aurelia's eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of the man who had lifted her in his arms so gently and carried her to her room, but all she saw was cold resolve.

"And now," Philip added, stepping away from the bed, "I have other matters to deal with."

Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Aurelia alone with her thoughts.

What had gone wrong in just one day?