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?
CHAPTER 6
My goodness, who was she?
Philip knew who she was, of course. She had told him as much. Lady Verity Sinclair. But who was she? Someone that he had never been fortunate enough to cross paths with during society events, that was certain.
He would have remembered someone like that.
He watched her slender figure walk away from him, with her golden hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, his heart skipping a beat for reasons he could not fathom. She was the first person that he had spoken to for as long as he could recall who had captivated him so. Their conversation might have been brief, but it was meaningful. He felt a strange connection to her as they spoke. She made his pulse pound, his body tremble, and his mind spin at the speed of light.
Confused by the depth of his enjoyment in Verity’s company, Philip tried to make sense of his feelings. He tried to place them, to work out where he might have felt something similar before.
Before he retreated from society, he had met many people. But none of them had ever created such a deep and powerful stir within himself. But that was even less frequent now. The more he retreated from society, the less often he felt such an instant rapport with another person, let alone a lady.
Philip wasn’t sure what to do with this information.
“Philip!” His mother’s stern words shook him from his thoughts. “My goodness, we did not know where you had gone. We have been searching for you for quite a while.”
Philip turned to face his mother and sister, schooling his features in to a mask of polite indifference. The last thing hewanted was for his mother to pick up on the strangeness swirling around inside of him.
If she knew that he had even spent a second talking to a woman, then she would most certainly jump on that and turn it in to something it did not need to be.
“I do apologize,” he declared smoothly. “I was simply admiring the beauty of the gardens.”
