She swallowed, tried to control her breath and her tone as she shrugged one shoulder. Yes, that was a nonchalant action. “I suppose one might think that.”
He wrinkled his brow again and opened his mouth as if to press. But then he glanced at Nan. She was still sewing, but occasionally her gaze flitted toward Pippa. He shut his mouth and shook his head.
“It was an interesting experience growing up around such a place,” she offered as a way to break the discomfort her answers had created. Our little house was just behind the great hall, and during the high season, the music would float back so I could hear it.” She smiled, for these memories were not unpleasant.
“And would young Miss Phillipa Windridge sneak a peek at those gatherings?”
She blinked. “You know my maiden name?”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “And yes, I was always creeping up to windows and sneaking through the hall, hiding behind furniture so I could see what the fine dresses looked like, watch the dancing. By the time I had a dance instructor, I was already well-versed in reels and quadrilles.”
“And the waltz?” he asked softly.
She blushed. “No, my father didn’t allow anyone to waltz at Windridge’s Assembly. He said it was too shocking, made a big bluster that those at Almack’s gave permission for such a display.”
“He was a stern master of ceremonies, then?” Rhys asked. Teased, she thought, gently and in a way that made her smile.
“Sometimes,” she said. “He was very particular about attire and behavior in his walls. Any walls he ruled over.”
Rhys nodded slowly, as if he understood that she was trying to tell her a little bit about life behind the assembly. In the little house where her spark had been seen as a disadvantage, a difficulty needed to be snuffed out by any means necessary. Where she’d been a commodity and a disappointment.
Nan had rested her head against the carriage wall now and was dozing. It seemed to give Rhys a little more bravery in speaking. “I’m surprised he allowed my brother into his hallowed halls if they were so well-protected.”
Pippa swallowed, her mind taking her back to that night years ago when Erasmus Montgomery strode into the assembly hall. She was attending every entertainment by then, strutted out on display in the hopes she would land a man to elevate their station and bring even more prestige to her father’s doors.
She’d been so stifled her entire life, and she recalled looking at Erasmus and thinking he was free. And she was jealous and intrigued. Enough that she ignored warning signs and the desperation laced in his pursuit.
“Erasmus was very good at presenting as a sheep when he was truly a wolf,” she said. “And my father wanted to be taken in, so he was. I suppose…” She let out a soft sigh. “I suppose I cannot judge, though, for I was taken in, too.”
Rhys’s cheek twitched and his hand flexed against his thigh, as if he were considering reaching across to her. He didn’t, of course. Unlike his brother, who had been impetuous and sometimes inappropriate, Rhys was always proper. Collected. And she respected that a great deal, even if the idea of him taking her hand sent a full-body shudder through her that was anything but unpleasant.
She was lonely, that was all. That was why her attraction to this handsome man was so powerful. Once she was home with her servants and Kenley, it would fade. She’d settle into her old routines and this drive would just go away.
She ignored the fact that her old routines had been unsatisfactory.
“I’m…sorry,” he said softly.
She wrinkled her brow. “You are always so quick to apologize for something you had nothing to do with.”
“Didn’t I?” he asked, and his jaw twitched again. “I cut him off. Did that not set in motion everything that happened after? And since he is…he is dead, doesn’t that make me the responsible party now?”
She flinched at the pain in his voice, the guilt and the grief that was just below this man’s cool and collected surface. She’d always sensed it there when she spoke to him, always wished she could soothe it. But that was not her place.
“It doesn’t make you responsible in my estimation,” she said.
He held her stare a long moment, the bright blue of his eyes holding her captive. Then he cleared his throat and turned toward the window. “Seems we are out of London proper now. I always forget how long it takes. Perhaps it would be a good time to stop and stretch our legs, then I’ll ride for a bit so you may have some time to get to know your new companion and enjoy the quiet.”
She swallowed at how driven he was to escape her company, and yet she could do nothing but nod as he tapped the wall behind him to signal the driver to stop.
“There’s a very nice inn along the road where we’ll stop in a few hours,” Rhys explained as the carriage slowed and pulled to the side. “And we will arrive in Bath before supper tomorrow.”
She forced a smile. “That is fine. Thank you again for the transport and the company.”
He bowed his head as the carriage stopped, and then ducked out, his deep voice fading as he spoke to the driver and made his arrangements. She reached into her reticule for a book, which she set on the seat across from her.
She needed to gather her senses and focus instead of mooning in an unseemly fashion over a man she could not have for a dozen good reasons. She had to. There was just nothing else to be done about it.
Chapter 3
Rhys sat at a table in the dining hall of the inn where their group had stopped an hour before. He tapped his thumb restlessly on the wooden tabletop, rapping out a rhythmless beat as his mind spun in what felt like never ending circles. He didn’t like feeling so untethered, so helpless. It wasn’t in his nature—it never had been.
And yet he had no choice. The world was burning around him, set ablaze by a man he had spent a lifetime both loving and hating. Rhys was left to fight the fires alone, and the thoughts of that had plagued him the entire long day of riding ahead of the carriage.
Thoughts of something else, too. Someone else. The woman who had just entered the dining hall and was searching the crowd for him. He stood so she would see him better and sucked in a breath. Phillipa.
It was shocking how beautiful she was. Every man in the room made mark of it. He saw the eyes follow her, admiring the curves of her figure, the slope of her delicate neck, the bright, barely tamed glory of her golden hair and her lively green eyes.
But they didn’t know her at all. They didn’t know how far that beauty sank beneath the smooth surface of her skin. That she was just as alluring when she spoke or acted as she was to look at.
Wanting her was so very unfair. Knowing he could never have her was physically painful.
She smiled as she reached him, and he held out her chair for her. When she had settled into place, he said, “I hope you found your accommodations pleasant.”
She nodded. “It’s a beautiful room and a lovely inn. Much better than the accommodations I secured for myself on the way to London what feels like a lifetime ago.”
He flinched because her words had made him picture her desperation, her fear, her suspicions when she chased his wayward brother to London. When the world was turned upside down by everything Erasmus had done and said and stolen.