Eliza didn’t want to be reminded of that. “You’ve given me much to consider.”
The lady reached out to touch Eliza’s arm. “Please don’t mind me.” She shook her head. “I’m filled with uncertainty at the moment. Do not allow anything I say to change your plans.”
Eliza nodded even as doubt surged within her. Was she doing the right thing? Once Philip came to know her better, would he realize she was unworthy of his attention? She need only remember that her own mother hadn’t loved her. Surely anyone else who looked closely would realize she was nothing special and undeserving of admiration, let alone love.
But what if Philip believed differently? It was the ‘what if’ that made her decide she had to pursue her plan. She’d never know if she didn’t try.
Chapter Eight
Philipneededalongride more than he could say. He felt as though the weight of his title was crushing him and preventing him from drawing a proper breath. He’d had the feeling more often than he’d like to admit since inheriting the title.
It seemed to happen when he felt out of his element as he had during the charity ball the previous evening. The event had caused conflicting thoughts and emotions that were difficult to sort through.
The pleasure he’d experienced during his time with Eliza. The gloom that had coated all else.
The overall reluctance he felt to move forward with the plan for his future had him kneeing his horse into a gallop.
Riding provided more of an escape than any other activity, including drink, women, and gambling. Why other men chased those things with the hope of finding happiness was beyond him. He already knew no bottle was deep enough, nor a wager exhilarating enough, nor a woman exciting enough to forget his worries.
But riding allowed him to clear his mind at least temporarily. Often that was enough to provide the objectivity he needed to continue on with whatever task or decision was before him.
The hour was early. Dawn had barely broken, and he’d had little sleep. Snippets of his conversations with Eliza and the two Graham sisters had filled his mind, leaving him tossing and turning.
The rain of the previous day had halted but left a cool and foggy morning in its wake. Perfect. His black steed galloped across the meadow as if determined to take flight. Philip wished that were true and gave the horse his head just in case.
From the early days of his youth, he’d found riding the best way to ease any troubled thoughts. He’d had many of those in his childhood. Given the perfection his father and brother strove for and always seemed to achieve, Philip had felt second-best.
No. Less than that.
He’d felt as if he didn’t belong. His father and brother had been so perfect that he hadn’t bothered to try to follow in their steps. Instead, he’d forged his own path, using charm and humor to smooth his way.
Granted, he’d received extra attention because of his lineage. While he’d never sullied it with truly poor behavior, neither had he attempted to act as if he would be the next duke. He hadn’t thought that would happen.
Certainly, he’d been given responsibilities that required effort. But nothing like his brother.
Instructions should be given to second sons. A set of guidelines just in case. A warning of sorts to be prepared if the unthinkable should happen.
But when one’s father and brother were healthy, strong men, it was impossible to believe anything could befall them.
Wading through grief, doubt, and disbelief, Philip had felt ill-prepared in the wake of their deaths. Did other spares feel the same way? Perhaps he should consider establishing a club of sorts to connect those in the same position.
He shook his head at the ridiculous thought. No doubt others in his position were better equipped to take the reins of their duties than he had been.
The invigorating ride in the mist of the woods and meadows of Hyde Park refreshed him considerably. By the time he turned his horse toward home, he realized he needed to remember what was truly important—his goal. If he wanted to prove himself worthy of his title and make his father proud, he couldn’t afford to allow himself to be swayed by distractions.
His father had taken great pride in Oscar and his decisions. Therefore, Philip didn’t doubt for a moment that his father would approve of Philip marrying into the Graham family. The Oxley title was an old one and dated back centuries. Philip marrying one of the daughters would fulfill the commitment his family had already given.
The fact that Lord Oxley hadn’t produced an heir was one he seemed to take as a personal slight. He’d shifted his focus to ensuring one, if not all, of his daughters married well and had spared no expense to prepare them for success and provide attractive dowries.
That risk had appeared to have paid off when the eldest daughter gained the attention of Philip’s brother. The family had surely breathed a sigh of relief at the boon the union would bring.
Yet it ended abruptly with Oscar’s unexpected death.
In the weeks that followed, Philip’s father had never asked him to honor his brother’s commitment, but Philip knew what was expected from the look his father had given him each time the Grahams were mentioned.
Would he have eventually asked Philip if he hadn’t fallen ill and died? That was something he’d never know but thought he could guess the answer.
While he was doing the best he could, it didn’t feel like enough. In fact, he knew that to be the case.
