“She is nearly unrecognizable from those days. Perhaps it’s not so terrible that your aunt is staying with you after all. Her presence should make your life easier in that respect.”
Winston heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I suppose you are right. It’s just that Aunt Frieda constantly glares at me as if disappointed by my behavior.”
“Need I remind you that you are a marquess and have responsibilities not so unlike my own?”
As if in answer, Winston tossed back the rest of his drink. “Lucky for me that I did not have the fine example of a father that you did. Mine was too busy having affairs and arguing with my mother to worry about things like seeing to the estate.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take an interest in doing so.” It frustrated Philip that his friend didn’t seem inclined to do more instead of search for the next entertainment.
“I’m just relieved Father didn’t spend all of my inheritance.”
“But he spent some. You’ll also need to arrange for Eliza’s dowry if you want her to make a good match. Doesn’t that imply you should take care?” Philip shifted in his chair, his annoyance with Winston making him restless. Most likely that was because it made him feel old to be giving such advice.
“I am.” Winston waved a casual hand of dismissal. “Plenty of time to worry over such things in the coming years.”
“The years slip away quicker than you expect.” Philip knew that from experience. One day, his life had been uneventful, and the next he’d lost his family. Grief had him pressing a finger to his chest at the pressure there.
That was why he had decided to marry before the end of the coming Season. He wanted to start a family soon and hoped that would help fill the void inside him.
“Nonsense.” Winston scowled then looked around for the waiter. “We are still young.”
“Can you say that even after looking at your sister?”
“What does Eliza have to do with it?”
Philip sipped his drink as he contemplated an answer. “Looking at her so poised and grown up made me feel rather ancient.”
“Hmm. I see what you mean.” Winston caught the notice of the waiter and signaled for another round before Philip could protest. “All the more reason to enjoy the present, don’t you agree?”
Enjoyment wasn’t a priority to Philip any longer. Only fulfilling family obligations and doing what would make his father and brother proud mattered. That meant settling down and taking his responsibilities seriously.
Eliza drew a breath of satisfaction as she silently declared her move a success during the carriage ride home. Granted, it hadn’t been especially bold, but Philip had spoken to her. He’d truly looked at her and would know her from this point forward.
That was the first step. Never mind that he hadn’t seemed particularly interested in her other than as his friend’s younger sister. That was an issue she would soon address.
“I’m going to rest for a time,” Aunt Frieda said upon their return home. She paused to study Eliza. “I still think you’re acting rather oddly. Is all well?”
“Of course.” Eliza hoped she offered the semblance of a polite smile. Inside, she was rather giddy.
She hid it as best she could until Aunt Frieda left her in the drawing room to go upstairs. Then Eliza spun in a circle with a grin on her face.
Philip was everything she remembered and more. She simply had to find a way to show him how perfect they would be for one another.
Granted, she would’ve liked more of a reaction—was a hint of attraction too much to ask?—but exchanging pleasantries was a start. If only they had more in common than Winston. There had to be another way to connect them. To further gain his attention and help him see her as more than his best friend’s younger sister.
But for now, she would enjoy the moment and hope that she’d made a favorable impression on him.
Of course, she wasn’t the only lady he’d spoken to. That made it more imperative to devise a plan to keep his attention. An excuse of sorts to allow them to interact over the course of the next few weeks or even months.
But what?
Heaving a sigh, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, more than ready for time alone. Conversing with others wore on her and required effort. It didn’t help that nearly everyone in London was a stranger. That was why she looked forward to making true friends with her fellow literary league members.
A knock on her door after she’d settled in a chair to read had her looking up in surprise. “Yes?”
Nicole, her maid, opened the door. “The Countess of Bolton is calling.”
Eliza was thrilled and quickly set aside her book. “Please have her shown into the drawing room.”
