That included happiness.
How could she possibly be happy with a man she didn’t know?
“Cecelia, Lord Chambrook,” Aunt Nancy called out brightly. “It’s time for luncheon.”
Wordlessly, Philip led her down to the picnic, where he pasted on a charming smile, and she fitted one to match on her lips. But it didn’t stop her from noticing how often he stared at her and wondering what that meant exactly.
Regret hit Philip harder than he cared to admit. It was true that he had not shared much of his own life. He had liked learning about Cecelia, asking after her dreams and watching her emerge from her shell, optimistic and with barely any caution.
No doubt her daring tendencies were being brought once more to life. Except that Philip was not so daring, not when topics struck in areas still tender.
When he’d been at university, his parents had been aboard a ship that went down near Asia. She knew that, of course—everyone in the ton did. But she didn’t know how it had affected him, how he hated that he didn’t care. How he mourned the loss of never having had a relationship with them more than he had their actual passing.
Speaking of such things would most likely make him appear callous for his lack of grief.
Then there was Lady Venerton. Harriet.
While he didn’t relish doing so, he allowed himself to think of her as he ate a small teacake that turned to ash against his tongue.
He had been a young fool who assumed himself in love, desperate to prove his worth as earl with a large family and a beautiful wife at his side. She had been the most sought-after debutante, and he had seen her as little more than a prize to be won.
His vanity was matched with an equal shallowness. One evening at a ball, he overheard Harriet speaking to her cousin, Ludlow’s new wife, in the garden just under the terrace. They discussed the Chambrook wealth and that regardless of what happened, it would remain in their family, being that they were both cousins who had bagged such rich men.
Their sharp giggles had haunted him as he returned to the ballroom that night and promptly left. Afterward, he’d made his disinterest of Harriet known by acting on his attraction to a new opera singer, who he promptly made his mistress—followed by several others that season.
But it wasn’t enough.
Being in the same circles as Harriet reminded him of how he’d been played a fool. How he’d stupidly cast his heart toward beauty and fallen into her snare. He didn’t return to London the following season, but set sail abroad instead, content to allow Ludlow and his grasping wife to prepare for his fortune and title someday.
“Would you care for more tea?” Cecelia asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Hurt lingered in her gaze, a reminder of the unfinished conversation they had shared. Something in his chest tightened
She was right. Once upon a time, he had been able to tell her everything. But then, he hadn’t known the pain of emotional scars when he’d been a boy. Nor how they could leave one so vulnerable.
“Please.” He offered her his cup, and her lashes demurely lowered as she poured the tea. “I should like to take another walk after the meal. If you are amenable.”
“Are you certain?” Lord Bursbury lifted a brow and looked up where darkening clouds blotted out most of the sun.
“I’d like to speak with Cecelia,” he answered honestly.
Those deep blue eyes found his once more, as cautious as they were hopeful.
She set aside her plate, which held a partially eaten pigeon pie. “I’m actually rather full.”
Lady Bursbury laughed. “Oh, Elias, let these two go on for a bit. What sort of trouble could they possibly get into here in the country?”
“What trouble indeed?” her husband asked in a low grumble, even as his eyes narrowed in silent warning.
Philip nodded his acknowledgment toward Cecelia’s protective uncle and first got to his feet, then assisted Cecelia to hers. A rumble of thunder sounded overhead.
There might not be much time.
Which meant he would have to be quick.
Inside the forest, the breeze stirred up the leaves underfoot and sent them skittering with hushed whispers over the ground as the branches rustled overhead.
Philip focused on the woods around them as he led her over the damp soil. “The reason I went to your Aunt Nancy for a wife was that I wanted someone who would not simply wed me for my wealth.”
