“Yes, they’re pretty.”
He waited a moment, but she didn’t seem to have anything else to add to the conversation. Philip sent a pointed look in his aunt’s direction, hoping she’d rescue him from the awkward moment.
Aunt Eleanor seemed to understand as she stepped closer to join them. “Lady Alice, do you like the asters as well?” When the lady only looked at her blankly, she pointed toward the purple flowers that brought to mind miniature daisies.
“Yes. They’re also pretty.”
Philip clenched his jaw in an attempt to hold his patience. Surely, he wouldn’t have to endure this sort of inane conversation often in the coming months. He couldn’t bear it.
“We should be going soon, shouldn’t we?” he asked Aunt Eleanor with a raised brow. He’d already spoken with Lady Charlotte and the other sister. Surely that was enough for one day.
“Yes, Your Grace. Where does the time go?” She gave a forced chuckle as she glanced at Lady Alice. “It has been a pleasure speaking with you.”
“And you, as well.” Lady Alice curtsied but the movement did nothing for him. Not compared to when Lady Eliza had done so.
He shifted his shoulders, unsettled by the thought. “Good afternoon.” He bowed to Lady Alice, took his aunt’s elbow, and walked toward the house as quickly as he could manage.
“In a hurry, are we?” Aunt Eleanor asked in a whisper.
“I fear I have used up what little patience I have.”
She sighed. “You lasted longer than I expected.”
He looked at her in surprise.
She shrugged in response. “That is why your uncle and I thought it wise that you attend a few events now. Doing so will better prepare you for when the Season begins.”
He clenched his jaw at the thought of what lay ahead as they paused to thank their hosts before departing.
Once they were settled in the carriage, she met his gaze. “I applaud your decision to propose to one of the Graham sisters, but it’s important you chose the one best suited to you.”
Philip didn’t answer. Instead, he stared out the window at the passing scenery. He’d told himself several times that it didn’t matter who he married. All that counted was whether he acted in a way that honored the title and family name. Never had one of the Dukes of Trentworth enjoyed wedded bliss. His mother and grandmothers had been distant, leaving their children to the care of nannies and tutors, as it should be, according to his father.
His own happiness—or lack thereof—was of little consequence. He would find joy with his children if he were lucky enough to be blessed with them. Their mother was only a small part of the equation as far as he was concerned, much like his own had been.
After seeing his aunt home, he continued to his club. The sight of Lady Eliza’s brother, Winston, sitting at a table with a drink before him was unwelcome when it reminded Philip of Lady Eliza. Still, he pulled out a chair at his table to join his friend.
Winston regarded him with narrowed eyes that were hazel rather than green like his sister’s. He was almost as tall as Philip with a wiry strength to his slim build and the same light brown hair that Eliza had.
“It appears as if something is bothering you, Your Grace.” He always used Philip’s title with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Or perhaps that was only in Philip’s imagination. He supposed his friend didn’t see him as duke material any more than Philip did.
“It was a trying afternoon.” A waiter appeared at Philip’s elbow without him saying a word to take his order.
Winston waited until the waiter departed. “Weren’t you attending some garden party or other? How trying could that have been?”
“You clearly have not attended any of late or you would know how taxing they can be,” Philip responded with a dry laugh. “However, I did have the chance to become reacquainted with your sister.”
“Oh, yes.” Winston nodded. “I remember she and my aunt said they were going to one.”
“Lady Eliza looks nothing like I remembered.” He was careful to keep a disinterested mask in place. It wouldn’t do to allow Winston to realize how deeply his sister had affected him.
His friend smiled. “I suppose she has grown up since you last saw her.”
That was putting it mildly. Philip was proud of himself for not mentioning her fine figure with its generous curves, or her emerald green eyes with their long lashes. Instead, he kept his lips firmly clamped shut.
That only lasted a moment before he found himself saying, “I do believe you are going to have your hands full come the spring.”
Winston frowned. “Do you think so? I suppose when I see her, I still see the same shy, pudgy girl who tried to eavesdrop on our conversations.”
