Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

A s the final note of the waltz drifted into the air, Aurelia and Oliver broke apart, bowing politely to one another.

A gracious smile lingered on Aurelia's lips as she excused herself and stepped off the dance floor. However, before she could take more than a few steps toward the refreshments table she felt a familiar presence closing in behind her.

She didn't need to turn around to know that it was Philip. His anger radiated from him like the heat from a fire, and she braced herself for what was sure to be another confrontation.

"Aurelia." Philip's voice was low, but there was no mistaking the edge to it.

She ignored him, attempting to lose herself in the crowd, but Philip was not one to be evaded easily.

"Come with me," he told her as his hand closed around her wrist, firm yet careful.

He guided her out of the crowded ballroom and toward an alcove hidden from the curious eyes of the Ton.

"Are you avoiding me now?" he asked, his voice rough with accusation, his grip tightening as they reached the shadows.

Aurelia turned to face him, her chest rising with the effort to remain calm. "Avoiding you?" she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I do not believe I could even if I tried. You seem to be everywhere."

"Everywhere?" he scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing. "Or is it you who has been flirting with my friend?"

"Your friend?" Aurelia's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You sound almost possessive, Your Grace. I did not think you would care."

"You are mine, Aurelia," he bit out, stepping closer, his breath warm against her skin. "My Duchess. My wife. Mine ."

The tension between them crackled like a storm ready to surge. Aurelia's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening as Philip's nearness overwhelmed her senses. She should have pushed him away, should have marched away like she always did, but she couldn't.

His eyes darkened and before she could utter another word, Philip gripped her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall.

The feel of the cold stone against her back sent a shock through her body, but the heat radiating from him was intoxicating.

Without further warning, Philip's lips crashed against hers with a fierce urgency, stealing her breath as her hands instinctively reached for his coat, fisting the fabric in a blend of anger and desire.

Aurelia gasped against his mouth, but he silenced her with a deep, possessive kiss.

His hands roamed downward, tracing the curve of her waist before slipping beneath her skirt. Her breath hitched, her body trembling as his touch ignited a fire within her that she hadn't known existed.

"Philip…" she breathed, but he pressed his hand to her mouth, his eyes dark with intent.

"Quiet," he murmured against her ear, his voice husky. "Someone might hear."

Her muffled moans betrayed the intensity of her pleasure as his fingers danced over her moist, waiting mound, stroking her with expert precision.

Lord help me.

The feel of his skin against hers, the roughness of his palm contrasting with the silky skin of her thighs sent shockwaves through her body. She had read about moments like this in the guide, but nothing had prepared her for the real thing. It was so much more than the words on the pages could communicate.

"You like that, do you not?"

Aurelia's eyes widened in shock at her husband's question.

"Give me an answer if you do not want me to stop." Philip's finger inside her stopped moving, but she could still feel their pressure and warmth.

"I…I do like it," she struggled to say, and a smile spread across her husband's face.

"Good little lamb," he murmured.

His words somehow heightened the sweet shivers coursing through her.

"Only I can make you feel this way, Aurelia. Only I can touch you like this," he purred, his fingers moving inside her again.

Her senses were almost clouded, but she'd heard it, the slight desperation in his voice that made his words sound more like a plea.

"Oh…" Aurelia cried out as her legs shook, gripping him fiercely to steady herself, or collapse with overwhelming pleasure.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body arching against him as pure bliss coursed through her body.

Just as the world around her began to blur, the sound of approaching footsteps jolted them both back to reality.

Philip froze, his hand stilling under her skirt, his breath coming in ragged pants. He had done it this time.

He pulled back abruptly, his eyes darting toward the noise. In an instant his expression hardened, and the moment between them was shattered.

"We should return," he muttered, stepping away from her as if nothing had happened.

Aurelia stood there, her heart racing, her body trembling from the aftershocks of their delicious encounter. She could hardly catch her breath, let alone form coherent words.

And yet, as she smoothed down her dress and wiped the remnants of their kiss from her lips, Philip was already walking away, his back stiff, his usual mask of indifference firmly back in place.

The next two evenings, as they sat across from each other at the dining table, the memory of that night lingered between them.

Aurelia had hoped they would talk about what had transpired in the alcove, but Philip had buried himself in his work, leaving no time to meet with her.

She couldn't even catch him on his way out for his morning ride. As they sat together in the candlelit dining room the distance between them felt wider than ever.

"I will be heading out for work tomorrow," Philip announced abruptly, cutting through the tense silence like he did the steak on his plate. He didn't look up from his plate as he spoke, his voice cold and matter of fact. "I will return quite late."

Aurelia lifted her head, watching him carefully. "Very well," she replied evenly, refusing to let the hurt show on her face. "Safe travels, then."

She had wanted, no, needed, to talk about what had happened. To ask him why, after what they had shared, he was pretending it hadn't meant anything. It was clear to her that he had no intention of addressing it. If he wanted the memory to die she refused to fight him on it.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence. When Philip finally retired to his study, Aurelia remained at the table staring blankly at the empty plates.

Her body still remembered his touch, the way he had ignited a passion that she didn't know existed within her. That fire now felt distant and unreachable, buried beneath layers of cold civility.

The following afternoon, after Philip had departed for his business, Aurelia sent for her new friends, Catherine and Beatrice.

They had kept in touch for the past two days through letters, and today she was eager for their company; anything to distract herself from the confusion that Philip had left in his wake.

"I did not expect you would invite us so soon," Catherine said with a smile.

"Neither did I," Aurelia replied, plastering a smile on her face. "I suppose I needed the company today more than ever."

"Oh, my dear. What ails you?" Beatrice asked.

Aurelia wished her new friends wouldn't inquire about her state of mind. She didn't want to taint their gathering with the mention of Philip and his behavior toward her.

The three women had gathered in the drawing room, sipping tea while they chatted.

"Nothing in particular. I just find it rather pleasing to have friends. Being an only child, I have not had the opportunity to make many friends. I was raised only by my protective father, so I was always sheltered," Aurelia told them instead.

Catherine and Beatrice extended their hands toward her as if offering comfort.

For a moment, Aurelia allowed herself to relax, to forget the tension between her and Philip. In this space, surrounded by these women who seemed to genuinely care for her, she could almost believe that everything would be all right.

But even as they shared stories and laughter, some part of her couldn't help but wonder when and if Philip would ever stop running from the magnetism between them.

The air in London was heavy as Philip rode toward Godwin House, the very estate that had been the source of his family's turmoil.

Lord Keldbrooke had returned from his trip to Wales; the wild goose chase that Philip had sent him on in order to keep him and Aurelia apart, so Philip went to see him.

As soon as he arrived he dismounted his horse and strode through the grand entrance, followed by his solicitor, Mr. Whitmore, who carried a small stack of papers, the very documents that would seal Philip's claim on the land promised to Gabriel. The hall was dim, the shadows clinging to the walls, a grim reflection of Lord Keldbrooke's dwindling spirit.

"Lord Keldbrooke," Philip called, his voice as cold as marble.

The Earl, slumped in an ornate chair, looked as if he had aged a decade overnight. His once commanding presence had diminished to that of a weary man heavily burdened by guilt and regret.

"Your Grace," he replied, his voice cracking. "I suppose you have come to gloat."

Philip stepped closer, grim satisfaction curving his lips. "I have come to collect what is rightfully mine, or my brother's. Whichever you see fit."

With a trembling hand, Lord Keldbrooke motioned for Philip to take a seat, but the younger man remained standing, exuding an air of authority that left no room for negotiation.

"Bring forth the papers," he commanded Whitmore.

The solicitor stepped forward, unfolding the documents with enthusiasm. "These are the terms of the transfer, Lord Keldbrooke. Please sign at the bottom."

Lord Keldbrooke's hand shook as he grasped the pen, his eyes darting between Philip and the papers. With a heavy sigh, he scratched his signature across the bottom left corner, yielding the land that had once been the crown jewel of his holdings.

"Done," Philip said, allowing himself a brief moment of triumph, but Lord Keldbrooke's voice shattered the silence.

"Wait!" the Earl rasped, desperate. "Can we speak in private?"

Whitmore's brow furrowed with concern. "My Lord, I must advise against…"

"Leave us," Philip interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I will speak with him alone."

Whitmore departed reluctantly, casting a lingering glance at Lord Keldbrooke as he closed the door behind him.

The silence hung heavy between the two men.

"Tell me," Lord Keldbrooke began, his voice low. "How is Aurelia? Is she well?"

"Aurelia is thriving," Philip replied curtly, staring at his fingernails, wishing to sever any lingering connection between father and daughter. "She does not require your concern."

Lord Keldbrooke's eyes darkened. "You are keeping her from me. You are depriving a child of her father. How can you justify that?"

"Your behavior merits no justification from me," Philip snapped, his patience thinning. "You do not deserve to be called a father. Your actions speak for themselves."

Lord Keldbrooke's face contorted with rage. "You are evil. A monster! You would take everything from me and leave me with nothing!"

Philip stepped closer to him, the tension in the room thickening. "I would remind you, Keldbrooke, that it was you who deprived me of my brother. Your poor choices have led us to this moment."

The older man flinched, Philip's words landing with the force of a blow. "You think you are better than me? You are as much a villain as I am."

Philip leaned in, his voice growling low. "Perhaps I am," he said with a slight tilt of his head. "Your daughter knows who you truly are now, and it terrifies her. You are unraveling, Keldbrooke, and I will not allow your madness to touch her."

But he wasn't done.

"Although I must say, I am quite impressed by your show of concern, considering you sold her off without so much as a second thought, happy that her exit would pay off half of your debts. Do not speak about her again."

Lord Keldbrooke's eyes widened, fear flashing across his face. "You do not understand what you're playing with. I will not allow you to destroy what is left of my family."

"Your family?" Philip scoffed incredulously. "You think you still have a family? The ties you once held have been irreparably severed. You are nothing but a dim shadow of a man."

The Earl moved closer to Philip, "You do not know what I am capable of, Your Grace."

Philip straightened up, feeling a surge of satisfaction at Lord Keldbrooke's obvious distress. "I know exactly what you are capable of."

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving the Earl to mire in his distress. The confrontation had been necessary, a reminder that he was the one in control.

As he exited the hall, Philip spotted John, his employee, or simply put spy, waiting just outside. The man's expression was grave.

"Sir," John began, his voice steady. "I have been keeping an eye on Lord Keldbrooke. He seems…unwell."

"He is," Philip agreed, rubbing his temples in thought. "I need you to watch him closely. Ensure he poses no danger to my wife. Should he step out of line, I want to know immediately."

John nodded, his brow furrowing with concern. "Understood. I will make it my priority."

"Good. He is unraveling and I cannot allow his instability to affect her," Philip stated, determination coloring his tone.

As John nodded and prepared to depart, Philip's mind whirled with the discord in his marriage.

Aurelia was caught in the enmity between himself and her father, but he was determined to shield her from whatever chaos the man would unleash.