Philip appeared at her side, offering his arm, like a much-needed angel.
Verity's heart raced at the unexpected invitation. "Of course, Lord Easton," she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
She felt a surge of relief as she took his arm, grateful for the escape from her troubling thoughts about Ambrose. The eyes of the ton as well.
CHAPTER 18
It was a relief to be walking along side Lady Verity, with her lady’s maid walking at a discrete distance behind them. Anything was better than drowning in Lady Rosalind’s constant attention and the suffocating expectations of his mother. He could not understand why his mother was so insistent that he spend all of his time with Lady Rosalind when he had made it obvious that he wasn’t interested in her.
Obviously because she was suitable. But that wasn’t enough. Not for Philip.
How could he be interested in her when his heart raced so rapidly every time, he stole a glance at Verity? He could not see anyone else when he was struck marveling at the way the speckled sun light danced across her delicate features, illuminating the golden strands of her hair, highlighting her lovely pink lips like that. He could hardly take his eyes off her sparkling gaze and her sweet smile.
“Did you enjoy the display at Somerset House in the end?” Philip asked her, knowing that this was going to be something that Verity enjoyed… except for the company, perhaps.
“Oh yes, it was rather wonderful. The paintings there were really captivating.”
Philip chuckled. “I thought so too. Although I would have liked to see more landscapes. A painting of a garden like this one would have been perfect.”
“Oh, how I would love to be the one who painting Lady Maria’s Garden. Those flowers over there would be stunning. Can you imagine them on a canvas? They would absolutely grow. That shade of orange is glorious.”
He liked the way that her eyes shone with excitement at the mention of the gardens. Every single time he spoke to her, he felt like he learned exciting new information about her. He was always hungry for more.
He could not help himself.
“Yes, I would love to see a painting of something like this, especially if you painted it.”
“You would?” Verity asked with a blush.
Philip grinned. “You know, I would love to see some of your paintings. I am sure they are wonderful.”
A pinkness deepened in Verity’s cheeks which only made her more stunning. Every time she was passionate about something, or she spoke deeply about it, Philip’s desire for her bloomed and grew. He did not mean for this to happen, but it had happened regardless.
Now he simply needed to work out what he wanted to do with this information before his mother dragged him down the aisle and made him marry Lady Rosalind. He would never be able to talk with Lady Rosalind about anything like this.
“I don’t usually show people my paintings,” she confessed. “But I am sure I could show them to you at some point if that is what you want.”
They continued to walk, and the conversation flowed wonderfully. It seemed like neither of them would ever run out of things to say to one another.
Philip wasn’t even sure how it happened, but he found himself talking about things he would not normally say to another person.
“…I struggle under the constant pressure to conform to the expectations of his family and society. The weight of my responsibilities can be overbearing at times.”
The words poured out of him like a cathartic release of the burdens he had carried for so long. He had not even realized that he was feeling so bad until this very moment.
But with Verity, the words were easy to let free.
“I understand exactly how you feel,” she admitted quietly, much to Philip’s surprise. “I also find the weight of societal pressures too much to bear. It’s very isolating to be a woman in a world that wants to dictate my every move. A world that judges me for things that are simply out of my control. The events that have happened recently with the scandal sheets is evidence of that. A stark reminder that this is a very cruel world.”
Philip’s heart ached for her, longing to offer comfort and support. Much as he yearned to ask Verity about her connection with Ambrose, to see what it truly was, he knew that he could not. It would be crossing a line, and he did not wish to do anything that might push Verity away. He enjoyed their conversations far too much for that. He liked talking to the only woman who seemed to see beyond his title and the facade he presented to the world, straight into his very soul.
It was terrifying, to be really seen in such a way, but it was also utterly exhilarating.
“Do you like soirees such as this one?” Philip asked Verity as they turned a corner, deeper in to the gardens. “Because I have always found them a little challenging.”
Verity smiled, seemingly understanding him. “Yes, I know what you mean. It’s hard to know if people are being honest when they speak to you. It’s hard to know what people are whispering behind your back. Being featured in the scandal sheets only made that so much worse.”
“Oh yes that is not a fate I would wish upon anyone,” Philip laughed. “I have never bothered to read the sheets before now, and once they stop talking about me, I will never read them again.”
