Chapter 28

Twenty-Eight

A new novel in hand, Phil retreated to the small private garden at the back of the townhouse. For a moment, she needed to find some quiet. Not five minutes later, she slammed her book shut. Unlike the garden at Kellmore Manner, her aunt's garden was not peaceful. The rumble of carriages echoed from the nearby streets. The spring flowers could not mask the stench of horse dung and coal smoke permeating the air. The combination drove her back indoors. Alex sat at the small pianoforte in the corner of the parlor.

"Did it start to rain?"

"No. London drove me indoors. I can't believe we once longed to come here." As girls they'd played ‘getting presented to the queen' more times than either would admit.

"I've heard it is even worse during the winter months."

Phil perched on the settee. "That is difficult to imagine."

"I feel for the families who live here year-round."

"Poor souls."

Alex settled in one of the well-stuffed chairs. "I wish I would never have to come here again, but with three more sisters to find matches for, I am afraid I am doomed to return."

"Why?"

"Father will ask me to chaperone—since after last night, I will have no other use. I couldn't be more firmly on the shelf if I were covered with dust and filled with pickled herring."

"Not true. You could still marry."

Alex raised her brows. "You are always my champion, but you must be realistic. No man wants three-quarters of a wife."

"I think your math is off. Less than a tenth of you is made of wood. It could be much worse. Some of the gentlemen I have met seem to have wood for brains."

Alex laughed and the mood lifted. "I am thinking of returning home early."

"Please don't. I'd be lost without you."

"No you wouldn't, and it would be much easier to steal a private moment with Lord Endelton if I wasn't about all of the time."

"Nonsense. There would be a chaperone anyway."

"Speaking of which, I promise to be heavily involved in my book on the opposite side of the room when Lord Endelton comes." Alex's smile was more teasing than reassuring.

"If I look at the cover, I am sure I'll find it upside down as you are straining to hear our every word."

Alex looked at the clock. "He should be here soon, shouldn't he?"

A knock on the front door answered her question. They only had to wait a few moments for him to be shown into the room. Phil handed Alex her book and looked pointedly at the chair in the far corner. Alex stood.

"There is no need to leave, Miss Lightwood."

"A good chaperone doesn't linger too close."

"True but I wish to speak to both of you for a minute."

Alex retook her seat.

"You will pardon me asking, but Richard is most anxious to know if you were pushed last night."

Alex turned the book over several times. "Pulled. If it hadn't been from the folding in the carpet I could have avoided the fall. It's not entirely Lady Charlotte's fault."

Deep lines appeared in Michael's brow. "It was not a fold in the carpet. A candle had been placed under it."

"Deliberately? I nearly tripped on it," said Phil. "Any one of us could."

"Richard is most displeased and is trying to find out who placed it there."

"It doesn't matter. No one was injured," said Alex. Michael shook his head. "It exposed you to ridicule."

"There is nothing for it. The story was already circulating. Since the truth is known, they'll move on to something else. I suspect fun is in the speculation." Alex's practical answer didn't surprise Phil. "If there is nothing else, you two are interrupting my quiet reading time. I am going to remove to the chair in the corner."

Alex crossed the room, and Michael joined Phil on the settee. "She is very pragmatic, isn't she?"

"I suppose."

"I'm still in the room, and I can hear you. Talk quieter, or I'll be forced to play the piano." Mirth laced Alex's voice.

Phil inched closer to Michael. "Does the duke think the duchess had something to do with it?"

Michael nodded.

"I'd hate to think Alex was hurt because of me."

"You don't know the duchess well. She would expose anyone for anything to make sure the talk stayed off of her—unless of course she wants it to be focused on her."

"I don't understand how the duke could have married such a woman."

Michael looked out the window. "I don't know what I am at liberty to tell you … but he was forced into it."

"As you have said."

His hand slid across the brocade of the settee between them until their fingers touched. A pleasant warmth spread from Phil's fingertip to her elbow and eventually her heart.

"I did enjoy your singing last night. Why didn't you tell me you could sing?"

"It's been years since I've sung in company. Although even my mother said I sang well, I am never sure I do."

His fingers moved to cover her hand. "I do wish to hear from you again."

"That can be arranged."

"Soon?"

"Should I ask Alex to play?"

"She didn't want to be disturbed."

A voice came from across the room. "Yet, you are disturbing me."

Phil slid her hand out from under Michael's and angled herself to better see her sister. "You are a terrible chaperone."

"I think not. I have done nothing to separate your tête-à-tête or remind you to put on gloves."

"Then come play something." Phil turned to Michael. "Do you sing? Alex has some duets. George always tries to pitch her voice low but it never quite works."

"I have sung with my sisters."

They rearranged themselves around the pianoforte. Michael's voice was strong and usually on key. Alex played a selection of children's ditties. Soon they were laughing so hard, Grandfather came into the room. "What is all this ruckus?"

"Music. Would you like to join us?"

"No, but I'll have tea and listen."

Phil looked about the room. Her grandfather's smiling face, her sister's laughter, and Michael's tender gaze. Oh, if she was an artist and could capture the moment to remember forever.

According to the clock, Michael had stayed longer than customary. Since he was expected at the House of Lords in less than hour, he would have to end the visit.

"Endelton, are you off to listen to the debates?" asked the earl.

"Yes, I was about to take my leave."

"May I ride with you?"

"Of course."

The older man stood. "If you wait while I have my valet make sure I am presentable?"

Michael nodded.

At the door the earl turned. "Alexandra, I almost forgot, I need to show you a sketch my solicitor sent over."

Miss Lightwood left the room, closing the door all but a hand's span.

Philippa's cheeks bloomed into a blush. "Forgive my grandfather; he is not very subtle."

Nothing to forgive, the man knew how much Michael wanted to be alone with her. "It was kind of him to give us a few moments."

Michael reached for Philippa's hand, and she freely gave it to him. "I've read my sister's books, and they were of no help. I don't know what to say."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to say things."

"Such as?" She stepped closer causing the words in his brain to scramble.

I love you. I want to ask for your hand. "It seems I should give a speech about your eyes." He touched her cheek with the back of his finger. Remembering he should not, he dropped his hand. "Or say something grand."

Her free hand took his. "Perhaps you are asking permission to speak with my father?"

"That is how it is done, isn't it?"

"I believe so."

"Then we have an understanding?"

Her smile calmed all his fears. "Yes. We have an understanding."

Her gray eyes held a new depth to them as their gazes locked. Michael leaned forward, uncertain if he should tilt his head to the left or right. He'd seen Deborah kiss her husband often enough, it couldn't be difficult. Not wanting to bump her nose, he raised their clasped hands to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

Her eyes followed his every move. A tear formed in them. What had he done wrong?

She blinked and the tears disappeared.

He stepped back, unsure what to do. Footfalls in the corridor saved him from making another mistake.

Miss Lightwood opened the door but didn't enter. "Grandfather is waiting at the entryway."

Philippa dropped their clasped hands and stepped back. "When will I see you again?"

She still wanted to see him. His heart leapt; perhaps he'd been mistaken about the tear. "Tomorrow?"

She nodded and whispered, "Tomorrow."

He crossed the parlor and found the earl, who said something Michael didn't hear. Michael nodded and answered the only word he could think of. "Tomorrow."

The earl's laughter accompanied them all the way to parliament.