Some men took miniatures of their lovers to war. Philip had taken gifts from his friends. A snuffbox from Graham, a canteen from George, a knife from Simon. Things to keep him happy, and safe.
“Then I am glad that I happened upon it that night in the library. Because it does look like it cost a lot of money. Someone else might have tried to steal it.”
“But not you?” Philip smiled, warmed by the memory of Graham and her willingness to engage with him about it. “You draw the line at theft?”
“I did consider pawning it,” she joked, looking at him from beneath the rim of her bonnet. “Who knows what sort of price it would have fetched? I could have added it to my pin money, and used it to get as far away from London as possible.”
She wasn’t joking. She was trying to make him think she wasn’t being serious with the way she rolled her eyes. But he saw through her act.
“And where would you have gone?”
“Sadly, I did not get that far in my planning. The continent, certainly. France might still be unsafe for an Englishwoman. Perhaps Italy or Austria?”
“Where the opera singers flock,” he noted. Anna dropped her gaze, knowing she had been caught. “I have heard a few things from George. Is that your great passion? Music and singing?”
“I have many passions.” She turned to look out over the grounds. “Of all of them, I… I suppose singing is my greatest love.”
“It can’t be so great as that. You did not sing at George’s birthday dinner when the music started. Most singers I know don’t miss a chance to share their talent.”
She laughed under her breath. “Then I am not like most singers. I do not sing for others. My father…” She paused for a moment, debating how much to say. “He does not believe that music is a worthy pursuit for a woman. I have performed at the pianoforte a handful of times for guests and such, but never sung.” Anna fixed him with a fiery look. “Please, don’t ask me to sing now.”
“Perish the thought.” It hadn’t crossed his mind to ask her. Now, he wanted to hear her sing quite badly. “It surprises me that so many in your family can hold a tune. When we were at Oxford, George often displayed his abilities to us?—”
“He has no singing abilities. No rhythm either.”
“I said nothing to the contrary. He cleared out a good number of college halls with that voice of his.”
Anna laughed. “You judge him very harshly,” she said sardonically. “Am I to understand that you are a songbird yourself, Your Grace?”
Philip shook his head, smiling. He left the trellis, walking around the central flowerbed, her gaze boring into his back. “That could not be further from the truth. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body. Unlike George, I know better than to expose my failings to others.”
“What are you good at, then?”
“Another incensing question. A gentler woman might have asked,Have you any hobbies? Or,How do you spend your time?” His remark drew another laugh from her, and it pleased him. “I am not a musician like you. I am not cerebral either. That is not to say that I have no intelligence, merely that I am not a scholar and do not aspire to be one.”
She looked skeptical. “A Corinthian, then? An athlete?”
“If people are to be categorized as such, then yes.” He thought back to his childhood, bargaining with his ciphering and language tutors to let him outside early so he could play. “I have a great love of riding and traveling. I feel most alive when I am moving, doing, and not lingering in one place for too long.”
“And that’s why you joined the army,” she guessed, her voice lilting with curiosity. “To move and do things? What sort of things were they?”
Philip, who had up until that point been honest with her, felt his eagerness to connect with her ebb. He had thrived as a colonel because of his competitive, restless nature. But that hadn’t been why he had purchased his commission in the first place. Not by a long shot.
“A spirited young woman like yourself cannot possibly wish to hear an old colonel’s war stories,” he said, attempting to change the topic.
“What do you suppose would be the cause of such disinterest? My spirit, my youth, or my womanhood?” She arched an eyebrow in challenge. “You underestimate me, Your Grace. I would be very interested in hearing about your time at war. I have never traveled farther than Scotland. I have barely seen the sea. Do you honestly think I would not hang on to every word you spoke?”
He wasn’t sure whether the question was rhetorical. He didn’t want to find out. Anna should nothang onto any part of him. She would only hurt herself in the process. Even if she was lovely. Any gentleman would have been flattered to be on the receiving end of her questions.
“Another time, perhaps,” he replied. “Your cousin and my sister will be wondering what has occupied us for so long. I will not keep you a moment more, so long as you are satisfied.”
The young woman nodded, rising from the bench. Her boots clicked against the pave stones underfoot as she walked past him, headed toward the house.
Philip tensed as he caught her familiar perfume in the air. Lavender. The one sign of life in the otherwise sleeping garden. His heart rate quickened as he watched her go, surprised to find himself regretting sending her away so soon.
There would be dire consequences if I indulged her interest in me. And there would be worse consequences if I developed an interest in her…
“I am not satisfied,” she murmured, turning back to face him.
