Page 24 of The Devil's Accidental Duchess
“And she dared to claim thathewould be the catch of the Season. Ha! Not when his shirt points are barely holding up his weak chin!”
Selina choked on a mouthful of meat, and Philip quickly handed her a glass of water.
He had no interest in the affairs of the ladies of the ton. He was far more interested in the soft glow on his betrothed’s skin in the candlelight. How her dark hair seemed to turn a deep, burnished gold at certain angles. How her rosy lips closed around a mouthful of beef.
He shook his head. What soft glow, burnished gold, and rosy lips? If he was not careful, he would be spouting poetry and ruining everyone’s dinner.
“Also, it is of utmost importance that every single person in the ton be made aware that both Ashbrook and Barlow are pleased with this match,” his grandmother announced. “We cannot have anyone casting doubts on this.”
Selina glanced at him. “I suppose that is correct.”
“It is the best course of action,” Philip agreed. “If we announce our betrothal in a smaller gathering, there is bound to be talk about it, and we cannot have that.”
Not when the point was to not cause a scandal and ruin Selina’s reputation in the first place.
Selina shook her head. “I just do not understand how our families came to hate each other so much.”
“Well, our father was just as quick to anger when he was alive,” Lizzy pointed out. “Once his mind was set, there was no changing it. I suppose it must have been quite difficult to reach a resolution when both adversaries did not wish for a reconciliation.”
Would that it were the only blight upon his character.
Unfortunately, Philip knew the man. He had grown up doing everything in his power to please him.
He must have truly been so blinded in his youth to think that was possible.
“Well, it is of little consequence to speak of the past,” he heard his grandmother say cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, perhaps. “And should we really be talking about such gloomy things over such a fine dinner?”
The two younger ladies burst into laughter, and for a moment, it seemed to dispel the gloom that hung over the table. As they talked about the ball—the flowers, the food, and the music—the servants removed the plates and began to serve dessert.
The lemon syllabub provided a welcome tartness on Philip’s tongue. It also helped to remind him that his father distinctly hated the dish. His mother, however, loved it, and so Philip himself developed an appreciation for it.
It was of little use to hang on to the past, but there were just some ghosts that refused to leave. Ghosts that insisted on haunting the living.
“Philip?”
He looked up from his half-finished syllabub. “Yes, Grandmother?”
“I was just remarking on what a lovely moon we have tonight. Why don’t you show dear Selina around in the gardens?”
In the dark? His grandmother had to be jesting. Not only would they be stumbling over their feet, but it would also test the bounds of propriety, even if they were now considered betrothed.
“Is that true?” Philip asked wryly, his gaze fixed on Selina. “Was my grandmother waxing lyrical about the moon?”
His betrothed blushed and lowered her gaze, taking a moment to dab at her lips with a napkin. “I would… very much like to see it.”
Covering for my grandmother? Naughty of you.
He considered remarking that she ought to stand by the window, but the dining room had grown rather dull, and she was now looking at him with shining eyes.
How was he supposed to refuse that?
He smiled. “Very well. Shall we, My Lady?”
