Page 9 of The Bride Chase

“No, it’s not.” She tried to infuse even an ounce of the anger and heartache she felt into her reply, but her voice emerged as soft as his.

“Where are you going?” he asked, voice still gentle. “And may I join you?”

Philippa huffed out a little chuckle. “Now we’re to promenade together as if we’re on holiday?”

His eyes widened as if she’d shocked him. “We could.”

“Time to spare until your return train to London, have you?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, then amended to, “no. I booked a room at the Carlston and have not yet purchased a return ticket.”

Philippa licked her lips. There was something in his eyes. A dangerous glint. She’d seen it only once before and it had led them to…

“I don’t want to part from you yet,” he rasped out. Then he stared at her, waiting.

The words were like an arrow that found the chink in her armor and pierced the part of her that felt the same. The part that had not wanted to part from him that night in March. The part that wanted more closeness with him, not the silence that had stretched between them.

“I was going to visit the Royal Pavilion.” Philippa didn’t know why she told him, why she was all but inviting him to join her. But she still felt his words rumbling through her mind and chest. I don’t want to part from you yet.

“May I join you?”

“On one condition,” she said, her body already humming the way it had whenever he was near in the last few years. “I don’t wish to speak of Douglas and his marital plans for me, or about me returning to London. No attempting to convince me of anything.”

His mouth shifted as if a grin was trying to break free. “Very well. We shall not speak of returning to London or of your brother.”

Atlas felt like he’d won some prize, one that he didn’t even know he’d been seeking. But when he’d watched her stride out of that tea shop, it hadn’t only been an impulse to follow her. It had been a need. He’d had no other choice but to trail after her.

She’d spoken of going to Europe. Of boarding a steamer to journey to America. And fear sat in his chest now like a millstone. Trepidation at the thought that if he let her out of his sight, she might give in to that impulse. Within the hour, she could secure a ticket and board a boat to cross the channel or a ship to begin her trans-Atlantic escape to the states.

He’d never see her again. And his mind—and his heart—could not even begin to grapple with that possibility. He’d followed her, not knowing what he was going to say. But then it struck him. What he wanted most was to simply spend time with her. It was what he’d been yearning for during the last two months, and yet it was, ironically, why he stayed away. He’d even kept his distance from Douglas. He’d feared that if he mentioned Philippa, his friend would see it all on Atlas’s face, or hear his feelings leaking into his voice.

And now he was here with her and they’d been walking for a quarter of an hour. Making small talk. Talking about the weather. Talking about Brighton. Talking about the things that she wanted to see in the city.

She’d even dragged a few stories out of him about his own family’s visits to the seaside when he was a child. The Royal Pavilion was in sight now, rising up ahead of them. The design created a unique silhouette against the horizon that was gradually clearing of clouds and revealing the bright blue sky beneath them. The pavilion’s domes, arches, and narrow minarets were stunning, set amidst lush lawns and a well-manicured garden.

“It’s quite a feast for the eyes, isn’t it?” Philippa said a little breathlessly.

The building was lovely, but Atlas couldn’t help thinking the description was more apt for the lady beside him. She hadn’t bothered to fix her hair and several glossy strands hung loose. His self-control where Philippa was concerned had already been proven to be all but nonexistent, but even so, he tried to resist the urge to reach out again and tuck the dark-brown wavy strands behind her ear. Not to tidy, just to have an excuse to touch her.

As they walked along, he’d tried not to stare and to keep his focus ahead of him.

But when she spoke in her usual animated way, her hands gesticulating to emphasize her descriptions, he couldn’t help but look over.

He’d always liked her company, but after that night in the garden, he’d come to crave it. For today, he was going to let himself bask in it. Yet he didn’t want it to only last for today. He didn’t want it to end. To hell with Douglas and his stupid scheme to marry her off to an aged earl for money.

Why couldn’t it be this gloriously simple between them? Could he not find a way to have her with him always?

“I think we can go inside,” she said, pointing toward a queue of people forming outside. “Or we could walk around the grounds.”

“We should do both,” he said, grasping at a way to extend their time together.

“Let’s start with the grounds. I do like a lovely garden.” She looked back at him, eyes widened and appearing suddenly chagrined.

It seemed any mention of a garden between them now would bring thoughts of that night. That one incandescent moment that he could not forget, no matter how hard he’d tried.

He didn’t want the unease between them, but he didn’t know how to broach the topic so they might discuss it as friends. Yet, of course, he wanted more than friendship with Philippa now. He couldn’t help but wonder if she did too.

Mostly, he was pleased to find she didn’t hate him. He’d convinced himself in the last couple of months that she must. He’d bungled all of it. If he were an honorable man, he’d admit that he let things go too far that night. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.