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Philip’s eyebrows arched. “I suppose not. If I become interested in something, I try to find out all I can about it.”
“Such as?”
He tilted his head to one side, his gaze distant for a moment. Then he focused on her again. “Well, dancing, for instance. My father has introduced me to a lot of topics that I need to know when it comes to running the estate. Economics. History. Mathematics.”
Emalyn scowled, and Philip touched her lightly on the shoulder. “You do not like mathematics.”
“It gives me a headache. My eyes cross from staring at so many numbers.”
“Let me guess. You prefer the novels of Mrs. Radcliffe.”
Emalyn sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “Mrs. Burney, if you please.”
“Ah.” He gave an exaggerated frown and pressed a palm to his forehead. “Do not tell me you take her words to heart.”
“And why should I not?”
His hand dropped, and he leaned a bit closer. “Because they will lead you astray.”
“Nonsense. They are as cautionary as they are amusing—”
Philip kissed her. A slight brush of his lips against hers, but it was definitely a kiss. Emalyn froze, mind, body, and soul. She could not breathe. Finally, his name came out on a whisp of air.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. Still gentle, still not much more than a bare touch of his lips, but he lingered a moment, then whispered, “I will never let you fall. Ever.”
Emalyn hesitated, her mind a churning fog of emotions, then she put her arms around his shoulders. He slowly smiled and slid his around her waist, pulling her closer. With a sigh, she leaned against him and pressed her head against his shoulder. His warmth seemed to envelop her, and she closed her eyes, letting it permeate every muscle. Emalyn realized too that nothing would ever compare to this moment, this gentle strength, this tender affection.
“What are your thoughts?” She barely heard his soft voice.
She kept her eyes closed. “I was thinking that from this moment, no matter what happens—no matter where we go, what we do”—her voice broke for a second—“or who we may marry, I will always belong to you.”
Philip remained quiet, then his arms tightened around her, ever so slightly. “You truly believe that?”
“I do. I promise you will be ever in my heart.”
In the silence that followed, the contentment Emalyn felt spread as she leaned against him. So when he finally spoke, the words jarred her.
“Then why do you believe we will marry others?”
Emalyn’s thoughts faltered.Does he not realize...?She gradually raised her head and blinked, peering at him. “Philip—”
“Do you not think I would want to marry you?”
She shook her head. “It’s not about whatwewant.”
“Then what is it about?” Philip released her and stepped away, and Emalyn almost lost her balance. He reached out to steady her, his focus on her face intense.
“Philip, you are the son of a duke. You would never be allowed to marry someone like me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Someone like—”
“A commoner! Yes, my family has wealth and land and houses all over Europe, but not here since we are not British subjects. Our fathers are good friends, but that remains at the duke’s generosity. He could turn us out at any time—”
“He would never—”
“But hecould,and you know it.” She reached for his arm, but Philip pulled away, backing toward the door, and Emalyn’s throat squeezed, her voice pitching higher. “You know what your parents will insist on, just as they insisted on you being at the ball tonight. For you to marry someone from your own status, from British Society. The daughter of a duke. Or an earl. Or a—” Her voice finally broke, the first tears stinging her eyes, as the reality of her own words hit her heart.
She would lose him. Soon.
