Chapter 5

W HAT HENRY HAD IN mind, needless to say, resulted in mussed hair and crumpled portions of fabric. It was not Philomena’s best look, but she was pretty sure the vibrant grin on her face was.

They had spent far too long in a caress that led to straddling, which led to rubbing, and God, his body felt amazing. He was strong and confident. And she could tell he was enamored with her. The dreamy looks he was giving her warmed her entire being. He had been her friend. Now he was something more. But what exactly more, she wasn’t sure. He was enjoying her body, and she was enjoying his. But what of his heart?

She couldn’t help but notice that they hadn’t yet shared a kiss. It was odd. Or was it? Being an innocent, she wasn’t sure if it was odd. It didn’t really feel odd, since the pleasure and intimacy of everything they were doing was enough to flood her senses. She wasn’t sure what a kiss, on top of (or underneath) everything else would do. She had never been kissed. How could she know what she was missing?

She was kneeling in the grass at Henry’s side, while he reclined on one elbow, the other hand drawing messy circles on her thigh. She didn’t want to leave. It was all so perfect, but she knew that their time away would soon be noticed.

“I think we should go back before someone sees Paulina sitting all alone on the bench when she’s the one who should have been here with you.”

Henry brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “No one else is supposed to be here with me except you.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Henry.”

“It’s true.” Pushing himself up, he kissed her cheek.

“All the same, we should be going.” The cheek kiss was unraveling her resolve. Not just her resolve to make their way back and put on airs of propriety, but also her resolve to not indulge in unrealistic hopes and dreams of a future with him.

It was all too perfect. There was no point in tainting perfection with real talk about the future. The future she knew couldn’t exist.

“Let’s go then.” Henry stood and, for the second time in twenty-four hours, he helped her up, squeezed her, and kissed her temple. “Mmm…you feel so good, Mina.”

She swatted at his shoulder. Well, really it was more of a rub. “Come on, Henry.” Secretly she adored his attention but she just couldn’t bring herself to let down her guard.

As they walked beside each other, Henry reached for her hand and she let him. Until they were close to Paulina, and then she pulled away, not meeting his eyes.

As they rounded the bushes, Philomena immediately sensed something was wrong. Mostly because she could hear Paulina talking, and really, who would she be talking to? But also because her voice was half an octave higher than normal and a touch strained.

“There you are, Philomena.” Paulina shot her a layered look of vexation and apologies. “As I was saying, Your Grace, I turned my ankle, and these two took a quick stroll to see if the path would be too risky for me to amble down.” The dowager duchess turned to her son with a blank look. The look was not so blank when it shifted to Philomena. There was a certain narrowness to the dowager’s eyes. In fact, a definite shooting arrow of contempt, one might say, if one was putting words on such a fleeting flicker of a glance.

And Philomena was. Indeed, she was so caught up in labeling the brief glance that she missed the not-so-subtle gestures from Paulina indicating that she had something in her hair. Henry must have caught it because he casually leaned in and picked something from her coiffure.

“It seems a leaf floated down and entwined itself in your hair.” He grinned at her.

Oh no, not that grin. In front of his mother of all people. Gertrude strongly disliked her. Philomena already knew she wasn’t duchess material. All she needed was for the dowager duchess to be given another reason for contempt. That of a scandalous woman.

All she could think of to clarify the situation was to say, “Funny how leaves fall, isn’t it?”

“Yes, they do fall. Fast,” Henry quipped, gazing into her eyes.

Philomena froze. Longing to hear those words about her, to her, yet afraid they would destine her to always being at odds with Gertrude.

Ever equipped with etiquette, Paulina interrupted. “You two.” She shooed them apart and took both of them by the arm. “Must be an inside joke about foliage or something. You know these two have been friends forever.”

“Yes.” Gertrude gave a sharp nod. “They make very good friends .” Extra emphasis on friends.

Philomena could read between the lines.

“Help me back to the house, you two. I want to rest my ankle.”

“Henry, take Lady Paulina back to the house. I’d like a word with Lady Philomena.”

“But—”

“Henry.”

That was all that needed to be said. Henry nodded and escorted her sister back to the house.

And then a strange thing happened. Philomena could not have predicted it. Though, she wasn’t entirely sure she would have wanted to. Knowing the dowager did not particularly like Philomena, she couldn’t say she ever wanted to have a one-on-one chat with her.

“Lady Philomena.” Getrude bestowed a strained smile upon her and gestured to the bench. “Please take a seat.”

The two sat uncomfortably on the cold stone. “I have seen and heard about your special gift with flowers.”

Unexpected, but true. Philomena should have responded with more than a gaping mouth, quizzical brows, and a slight nod.

“You enjoy it, do you not?”

She nodded again. This time holding her mouth and brows in check.

“That’s wonderful. I have an unusual favor to ask of you. I’m quite busy with this house party, but I have plans for a special event later tonight at the cottage. It involves flowers.” Gertrude tilted her head toward her as if Philomena were bird-witted. Which, by her series of nods, seemed plausible.

Gertrude was asking her for assistance. Perhaps she didn’t disdain her as much as she thought. And if she did, perhaps this could be a way to gain her favor. It didn’t matter the task, Philomena knew she would say yes.

“I’d like you to oversee the flower arrangements. As I said, I’m too busy here, and you are the only one I can trust with this task.”

Trust. Yes, this was her way in.

“Of course, Your Grace. Anything I can do to be of assistance.”

Gertrude smiled. Sort of. It was a smile by all definitions of the word, but something wasn’t quite right.

Philomena had to admit that she was studying said smile more than she was listening to the subsequent instructions. It couldn’t be that hard. It was flowers. That was her gift. Her passion. Her obsession of sorts.

So when Getrude asked, “Have you got all of that?”’

Philomena stuck with her tried and true response. She nodded.