She’d learned Aunt Frieda’s likes and dislikes during their time abroad. They got along rather well for the most part with the exception of her aunt’s dour outlook.
Eliza was also grateful for the opportunity to visit and experience so many countries. Few ladies her age had the chance. But it was always in the back of her mind that she’d been a last resort for her aunt since no one else had been available to accompany her.
What might it be like to have someone choose to spend time with her? Towantto be with her?
Would she ever know?
Even her brother had seemed less than excited about her return. Granted, they’d never been close, and his reaction might have been because their aunt announced her intent to remain with them at Linford House for a time. Still, his lukewarm greeting had stung. Did he think their presence would crimp his bachelor lifestyle?
They walked along the paths, greeting a few other guests while admiring the flowers. Neither of them knew many people in London, which was one of the reasons Eliza was so pleased to have joined The Mayfair Literary League. Much to her disappointment, none of the members seemed to be at the garden party.
They’d passed a pleasant half hour when they rounded a hedge, and she saw him, catching her breath.
Philip Carstairs, the Duke of Trentworth.
The sight of his handsome visage had her entire body tingling in response. His brown hair was slightly wavy and a lock of it fell over his forehead. She imagined being able to brush it back. A hint of a cleft in his chin was made more eye-catching by his strong jawline and the slash of dark brows.
But it was his eyes that always caused her stomach to dip. They were the blue of a stormy sea in the depths of winter when the waves were crashing upon the rocks. Perfect, in her opinion.
Of course, he hadn’t been a duke when he’d first caught her notice. She frowned, wishing he hadn’t inherited. Gaining the attention of a second son would’ve been much easier. His title was intimidating.
Eliza berated herself. How selfish of her to think such things when Philip had lost his brother in a tragic accident and his father soon after. Their family had always been close, something she’d been envious of, though his mother had died when he was young. He must still be grieving his recent loss.
She had yet to speak to him since her return as the opportunity hadn’t arisen. She intended to change that this very day.
As she watched, that intense gaze caught on her, and her heart rushed to her throat as if she’d jumped off a cliff. The feeling was short-lived when he looked past her, clearly not recognizing her. Nor had she garnered his interest.
The realization made her plan all the more daunting.
While pleased he didn’t see the same awkward, quiet girl she’d been, she would’ve been thrilled if he’d looked at her with admiration. If she’d caught his notice across the garden, and he’d strode toward her, compelled to meet her lest he perish with longing for her.
She pressed her lips tight in an attempt to halt her wayward thoughts. Perhaps she had been reading too many romantic novels of late. It was clearly time to expand her book choices. She’d joined the literary league in the nick of time.
His lack of notice made it even more important that she did something so he would see her and then speak to her. Once he did, his friendship with her brother would force him to make polite conversation for at least a few minutes. With luck and effort, that would be the beginning of their relationship.
Unfortunately, she had yet to decide how to make him notice her or what to say once he did. Her hope was that an opportunity would present itself and something clever would come to mind.
A voice in her head laughed, leaving her less than reassured.
Eliza lifted her chin. She had become a master at ignoring self-doubt. Most of the time anyway.
Her training at finishing school included such things as the ideal size a canape should be, that the buffet table should be placed a suitable distance from where drinks were being served to facilitate mingling, and directions to servants should be verbal rather than written in case they were illiterate. But her education hadn’t included ways to make a man truly see her. She could expertly manage a household but what good did that do when she had no one to love?
She gripped the clever beaded reticule she carried that matched her pale green gown. A corner of her handkerchief was just visible in the opening. How embarrassing. Yet as she tucked it out of sight, an idea took hold. Now she need only work her way in the duke’s direction.
“Look at the flowers over there,” she told her aunt as she dipped her head that way, her heart pounding as if she’d sprinted the length of the garden.
“Where?” Aunt Frieda frowned.
“It wouldn’t do to point.” The unladylike behavior would earn a reprimand from her aunt. “Allow me to show you.” She led the way toward Philip.
She needed to remember he was a duke and properly address him as such. But in her mind, he would always be Philip, the one person who had taken the time to talk to her and reassure her after her parents had died.
In truth, the flowers near him were nothing special, but Eliza moved toward them with determination as if she’d spotted gold within their petals.
She paused before the flowers and pointed to a bed of violas which were pretty in a subtle sort of way.
“Yes. Very nice, I suppose.” Aunt Frieda looked around as if wondering what else there was to see and moved in the opposite direction several steps.
