Harriet smiled. “I’m very pleased to say that he is courting me. It’s too soon to say how it will work out, but...”
The look on her face was much like it had been when Eliza had spoken with her at the workhouse—she was clearly in love. Eliza released a quiet sigh as a pang of envy filled her.
Frances showed no surprise at the news and looked delighted for her friend.
The support the ladies showed one another as they congratulated Harriet and offered encouragement to Frances warmed Eliza’s heart. Their bond was something she’d never experienced before, and she already loved being a part of it. This was so different than thefauxfriendships and petty jibes that had flourished during finishing school.
Knowing these more mature ladies accepted her as one of their own made Eliza wonder if what she’d experienced during her time in Switzerland hadn’t been a reflection on her but the other girls. Maybe she was likeable and worthy of friendship. The idea filled her with hope. Didn’t that also mean she might be worthy of love?
“Is anyone ready to move forward with their bold move?” Phoebe asked.
Winifred and Millicent stared at the floor. Rebecca, the widow, had stated at the last meeting that she wasn’t interested in participating in the agenda. Marian looked out the window as if her attention was caught by something outside.
Eliza clenched her hand, uncertain whether she was prepared to share that she’d already embarked on hers. Yet if these ladies were truly her friends, this was the perfect time to do so. She would welcome their support.
Given that the outcome was still so uncertain, she might need it in the coming weeks. The last two heated interludes with Philip made her think she might be on the right path.
“I am.” The words slipped out before Eliza could halt them. When all eyes shifted to her, embarrassment flooded her, along with remorse for having said anything. What had she been thinking?
“Eliza!” Phoebe grinned and gave a single clap of her hands. “That is wonderful news.”
The other ladies offered encouragement, as well. Her embarrassment eased when no one looked at her as if she were making a terrible mistake.
“Do you have a plan?” Tibby asked. “Not that you have to share any details that you don’t want to.”
“I asked him for a favor. To show me attention so that I might more easily gain the attention of someone else.”
Winifred’s mouth gaped open. “That’s brilliant.”
Harriet frowned. “Won’t he think your attention lies elsewhere?”
“That is a risk,” Eliza admitted. “But it also provides a reason for us to be together. To come to know one another better.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug as doubt overcame her again. “Time will tell, I suppose.”
Millicent sighed. “I must say that I am in awe of those of you who have proceeded. Your bold moves have been clever and perfect for your particular situations.”
“Except for mine,” Frances added. “I don’t advise writing messages from a secret admirer. It didn’t work.”
“Only because your heart wasn’t in it,” Phoebe suggested.
“Perhaps.” Frances’ lips twisted as she considered the matter. “Or perhaps I’m not meant for love.”
Eliza’s heart squeezed. Hadn’t she thought the same thing her entire life? “If that is your concern, that’s all the more reason to try something,” Eliza said, wanting to encourage her. “To take a risk that might change the course of your future.”
“Eliza is right,” Phoebe added. “You should be prepared to act in case—or rather, when—he returns.”
Eliza knew Philip would never have considered her as anything other than his friend’s sister if she hadn’t done something. But the stakes were high, considering her heart was at risk. Yet the moments they’d shared, including their kisses, made her believe the risk was worth the potential reward.
Philip shoved back from his desk in the study and rose to stare out the window. It was impossible to concentrate this morning. Not just this morning, he admitted. Three days had passed since he’d been with Eliza at the theater. During those three days, he’d been able to think of little else except her.
What was he to do about Eliza?
He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, the tension there an outward sign of his inner turmoil. He knew what he wanted to do—hold her in his arms again. Gaze at her. Talk to her. Be with her.
He sighed. And kiss her.
His longing was a physical ache that had grown worse each day since she’d asked him for that favor. He was certain he could’ve kept his distance if not for it. He might not have even noticed her if she hadn’t asked for his help.
There was no purpose in regretting it now. The matter was done. Well, not quite, he admitted. The way he felt suggested whatever was between them was far from over.
