He had heard the name a few times. Her husband was a known aesthete and art collector who had made a fortunerescuingartwork seized by Napoleon during the war. His wife had a fascination for the opera. She had taken a particular liking to Alicia, collecting singer friends the way other people collected instruments—to be played for fun.
Gwash’s involvement didn’t sway Philip to attend Alicia’s party, either way. His attendance would be seen as a sign of his interest in Alicia. And on that point, after their meeting, he was certain that there was none.
Which makes the effect her voice had on me all the more curious, he mused, leaning back in his leather chair.
For nights, he had awoken in sheets damp with sweat, her voice ringing out in his empty bedchamber. His mind was playing tricks on him, tormenting him. Nothing about the beauty of that voice could have constituted a nightmare, but his body responded with terror all the same.
Despite himself, Philip found his mind drifting to her cousin, and he instinctively smiled. He wondered whether perceptive, sensitive Anna could shed light on his reaction, what she would think of his predicament… until a knock sounded at the door.
Philip shoved the invitation into his open desk drawer—and the thoughts of George’s cousin went with them. He expected to see his estate manager, Mr. Hill, having come for their weekly meeting. Instead, Elinor’s mournful figure darkened his doorway.
“Knock, knock,” she intoned with a cautious smile.
Hands folded in front of her, she walked into his study and looked around. The study had belonged to their father, and Philip hadn’t yet commissioned a renovation of the room. His father had been fascinated with Titian’s art. A large piece hung over the fireplace before him, a religious scene the late duke had acquired during his Grand Tour. There were godly eyes all over the manor.
“It’s awfully dreary in here,” Elinor noted, playing with the heavy velvet drapes by one of the windows. “Father had many flaws, but his taste in decor might have been his greatest crime. Graham was always complaining about Charleton. He often joked that he prayed for your safe return just so we didn’t have to inherit the place.”
“I doubt it was as much of a joke as you think,” Philip said, pursing his lips in thought.
With each day that passed, Elinor seemed more comfortable speaking about Graham. He took that as a good sign.
“Not that I blame him. If I could work elsewhere, I would. There hasn’t been time to set up one of the other studies.”
“And you didn’t think to ask me?” Elinor tutted, sinking into one of the vulgar rococo chairs in front of his desk. “I have nothing buttime. A little renovation would occupy me wonderfully. And it will be good practice for when…” She sobered up and stared down at her hands. “I will have to go to Delphi soon and put things in order there.”
Delphi Place had been Graham’s family seat. His parents had died when he was young, and as an only child, he had left no known heir. As far as Philip knew, they were still looking for his closest heir. In the meantime, the running of the estate had fallen to Elinor. She had been so overcome with grief that she couldn’t bear being there alone. She had moved into Charleton even before Philip had come back from the war, and with the way things were going, it looked like she planned to stay there with him.
“You needn’t go alone,” Philip murmured, sitting opposite her. He arranged his things, then picked up his quill to resume the letter he had been working on before the mail delivery that day. “In fact, I’d welcome a change of scenery. The Horse Guards have little need of me at present, and I loathe being unoccupied like this. London is… as taxing a place as I remember it.”
“You mean there is a woman.” Elinor scoffed when Philip remained silent. “If you don’t want me to know about these sorts of things, then you shouldn’t say anything at all, thinking you’re being coy. I can guess your every thought just by looking at you. It’s a gift of mine. That little frustrated frown of yours tells me everything I need to know. Go on, then. Which poor debutante has thrown herself at your feet this time?”
“Evidently, you don’t know everything. She is far from a debutante.”
“A widow, then?” Her smile colored her voice. “How very exciting, brother. She and I will have so much to discuss.”
“Not a widow either.”
These were dangerous waters. Usually, Philip would have ended the conversation there. Elinor had a way of getting him to talk. Especially now, when she needed to talk. It felt cruel to ignore her.
“I suppose you recall Alicia Walford?”
“The singer?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she leaned forward. “How could I forget? She was one of the only women Father bullied you into courting, and the courtship itself was about as passionate as a wet stocking. Do you mean to rekindle your relationship? Or hasshethrown her hat in the ring foryou?”
“Neither. Or perhaps the latter.” He sighed, abandoning his correspondence. “I don’t know. I know only that she has invited me to a soirée tonight that I have no interest in attending. But avoiding her will incur the wrath of her cousin.”
“Darling George, of course…” Elinor tapped her chin in thought, looking more animated than Philip had seen her since his return. “Ah, he is hoping for a match between you. He was always a soft-hearted fellow, so that doesn’t surprise me in the least. He must think he is doing you a favor.”
“He has said as much, yes.”
“Which leaves you in a terrible predicament. Because the reality is that you are eligible and should be looking for a wife.” She paused, and Philip dreaded what was coming. “Is she really as insufferable as all that? I remember her being quite beautiful, a diamond of the first water.”
“Why must everyone emphasize her beauty as though that alone would persuade me to marry her? That’s the least important thing about her; the most important thing is that she is completely unsuited to me in too many ways to count, as past experiences have proven.” He raised his hands in exasperation. “Your train of thought surprises me—you, who has always put yourself forward as a champion of women and their intelligence.”
Elinor looked affronted. “Iama champion of women. And I have never said that a woman’s beauty is her most important asset. I fail to see how she could not suit you, Phil. You have not exactly… Well, what little you have dared to share of your past conquests has suggested to me that you do not value brains over good looks.”
Philip groaned quietly. “You are confusing me with our father.”
“Oh no. Trust that I keep you quite separate in my estimations and my heart.” She shook her head. “I know what Father was. I saw how it tormented Mother. Philanderer, and worse… I would not dream of saying you were like him. I meant only?—”
