“Are you an admirer of religious art, Miss Abbington?” It was an idle question, but he was content to speak of idle things just then. For the first time in days, he was truly enjoying himself. The air wasn’t yet too hot, the grounds around them were extraordinarily peaceful, and the woman beside him was so perfectly easy to be with.
“I would say not particularly, but given our recent outings, it would appear that I am. I suppose it can be said that I am an admirer of beautiful things, and the Roman Catholics certainly excel at producing such art.”
He could have easily said some clever turn of phrase about her beauty outshining anything around them, but here, it didn’t seem necessary or expected. Instead, he simply nodded and continued on, content to be in the company of such an interesting and intelligent women.
It occurred to him then that they hadn’t once had the typical banal exchanges so common when men and women conversed. She seemed to have no need to hide her light under a bushel, so to speak, as so many of their class were taught to do. God forbid a man might somehow feel inferior if a woman sounded cleverer than he did. Absurd notions like that were what kept him from joining in the beau monde’s endless entertainments.
Well, one of the many reasons.
“Indeed, they do,” he agreed. “I’ve actually wondered if the Vatican is as impressive as they say. It’s hard to imagine anything outshining the cathedral here.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Of course, the ancient Romans managed some pretty spectacular feats of engineering several millennia ago, so it stands to reason the more recent accomplishments of the region would be the same.”
He cut his gaze to hers, surprised. “Do you know Roman history, as well? In addition to all the languages and the history of Spain and England?” She had said she wanted to go to Rome, but it had seemed more of a general desire.
Her smile spread as she shrugged. “When I’m taken by a language, I’m taken by the history of its people. I want a feeling for the places it was spoken and developed in order to better understand the passions and struggles behind it. And I hope that doesn’t make me sound completely mad.”
“On the contrary—it makes you sound completely brilliant. You must come from a rather remarkable family, to encourage that kind of learning.”
She paused in front of the bubbling fountain, her smile still in place but sadness seeming to tug at her features. “My mother encouraged us to pursue what we loved. She and my aunt believed in independence and the importance of thinking for ourselves.”
Libby bit her lip for a moment, looking over Philip’s shoulder to a place he knew he wouldn’t be able to see, even if he turned around.
“Your mother sounds like an extraordinary person.” It was as close to prying as he would get.
She nodded, her ever-present smile subdued. “She was. Mama died almost two years ago, and I miss her every day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. My father died three years ago, and though we had a difficult relationship, I still think of him often.” Just because his father made decisions that drove Philip mad, he still loved the man. That was the way of it with family: despite the turmoil, blood would always be thicker than water.
Libby’s amber eyes found his as her fingers gently tightened on his arm. “I’m sorry. It’s harder, I think, when the relationship was troubled. I can assure you, if he could see the man you are today, he would be proud.”
Her quiet assurance surprised him. She knew so little about him, yet she said the words with such conviction, he could almost believe they were true. “I’d like to think so, but I doubt it. My brother is just like him. I should have known we were destined to butt heads. He just can’t see that I am attempting to save him from the pain the path he’s chosen will bring him.”
He’d never said anything so private to anyone before. He knew to be on his guard at all times, lest someone find a weakness to exploit. But here with Libby, where he wore the insulating cloak of anonymity, he was free to be himself. Though he claimed a false name, he was being more honest than he’d ever been in his life.
“I think it is the burden of the oldest to want to save their younger siblings from whatever strife they foresee. The problem is, we don’t always want to be saved. Sometimes a person has to make mistakes for himself before the lesson can sink in. And sometimes,” she said, sending him a rather mischievous glance, “it doesn’t turn out to be a mistake at all. Despite your best intentions, you may not always know best.”
He made a show of looking offended. “Nonsense. I’ll have you know that I am never wrong.”
“Then I’m not certain we can be friends,” she quipped, arching a golden brow. “I do so hate a know-it-all who thinks he’s always right.” She started to tug her hand away.
Before he’d even had a moment to think, Philip reacted, covering her hand with his own and pressing it tight against his sleeve. All he knew was that he didn’t want to break the contact, or forfeit even an iota of the intimacy, between them.
With his heart suddenly pounding in his ears, he met her startled gaze, forcing a small smile to his lips. “Then I take it back.”
Chapter 5
Libby’s stomach dropped to her toes at the look in Philip’s eyes. She couldn’t have turned from him for anything, nor could she have tugged her hand away. She nodded slowly, her mouth suddenly dry. “All right then,” she murmured, her voice breathy even to her own ears. She swallowed before trying again, this time working to infuse a teasing note into her words. “I suppose we can still be friends.”
Even as she said it, being friends was the very last thing on her mind. At that exact moment, she was thinking of what it would be like to be kissed by this man. To feel his arms wrap around her and pull her tight against him. To hold her breath as he lowered his lips to hers and to learn for herself if he tasted as good as he smelled.
His sudden earnestness had called to something deep inside her. She may be young and properly chaste, but she’d seen a real kiss before. She’d seen the way passion could ignite, consuming a couple so thoroughly that the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was something she yearned to experience, even if she knew such a thing would be breaking the rules outside of a proposal, at the very least.
But wasn’t she here to break a few rules?
Oblivious to her thoughts, Philip flashed a smile that made her heart pound all over again. “Excellent. I should be bereft without my interpreter.” Patting her hand, he started forward, leading them around the back of the fountain and onto another path.
Rallying her wits, she managed to give a little laugh. “Somehow I doubt it. You have the sort of personality that shall persevere, no matter what.”
“That’s a rather sweeping statement to make about someone you’ve only known a week.”
“Time matters less than instinct when assessing one’s character. I don’t need to spend months with you to know you’ll always land on your feet. Where are you from, Mr. Westbrook?”
He blinked, apparently taken off guard by her change of topic. “Er, Gillingham. East of London.”
“All the way from Gillingham, east of London, to Seville, western Spain. You don’t know the language or a single person here, yet you’ve managed to get around quite well. That is the spirit of a man who knows how to make things happen.”
He chuckled, shaking his head a little incredulously. “Well, if I know how to persevere, you know how to follow through. I’m in awe of the dedication it must have taken to learn so many languages. I imagine you could do anything you set your mind to.”
Warmth infused her limbs, as if stepping into a freshly drawn bath. “I do believe that is the finest compliment I have ever received. Thank you.”
“It is the truth, Miss Abbington. And I hope you never allow anyone to tell you otherwise.”
Libby thought of her uncle and the disapproving frown he wore whenever she was near. She thought of the teachers and tutors who had frowned upon her desire to study more than the bare
minimum, as though learning too much was as disagreeable as eating too much. There had been the men who had frowned when she’d spoken of anything outside of the weather and fashion, and women who had clucked their tongues and told her she should close her mouth and open her ears if she wished to attract a man.
Looking down at their feet, she noted with pleasure just how close together they were walking. Her smile was slow and completely natural when she looked up and met his gaze once more. “I don’t plan to.”
His answering smile was soft and sincere. “Good.”
The rest of the afternoon was absolutely delightful. They talked the entire time, their heads bent together as they toured the gardens and the rest of the museum. When they could linger no longer, they headed back to where they were staying, stopping along the way to purchase a few small gifts for Philip’s two other siblings. He had stood back and allowed her to haggle with the vendors, cheering for her when she managed to save him a bit of money.
When at last he bid her farewell and she climbed the stairs up to her chambers, she couldn’t help but laugh when she realized she couldn’t recall a single painting or sculpture from their entire time at the museum. As far as she was concerned, he was, without a doubt, the most interesting thing there today.
~*~
Early morning was not typically Philip’s favorite part of the day, but here in Seville, it was fast growing on him, thanks to the cool morning air that blanketed the city, bringing much-needed relief from the ever-present heat.
This morning, as he walked back from his daily trek to the waterfront, he found his mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only: Libby.
All he could think about was when he might be able to speak with her again. It was disconcerting, really; he’d certainly never been so preoccupied with a female before. He was still far too busy getting the estate where it needed to be. Father had left things in shambles, and Philip had spent years sorting it out. Things were certainly beginning to turn around, but there was no room in his life just yet for a bride.
He’d had one person after another approach him about a seemingly beneficial marriage match—always more beneficial for them than Philip—but he had absolutely no interest. Not with so many other things on his plate, and particularly not with the way things stood with his brother.
Yet despite all that, he found that he was smitten.
Here, in this city of warmth and beauty, so far away from the cool and levelheaded life he had always known, he was smitten with a woman who didn’t even know his real name. He was taken with a girl who had absolutely nothing to gain by being with plain Mr. Westbrook. She had shared her heart with him, and he with her. Not in the way of lovers, but in the way of people with a soul-deep connection.
He’d only be here for a short time, and he wanted to explore that connection more. What if there could be something beyond the shores of Spain? It was a thought that both thrilled and terrified him. What would she think of him if she discovered he was a duke? Surely it would be welcome news. Yes, he was deceiving her, but it wasn’t as though he was hiding something terrible. If things progressed and he decided they would suit, he could approach the truth as a happy surprise.
An odd, charged thrill raced through him, making his heart kick in his chest.
This changed everything. He needed to come up with a way to see her again—hopefully with some amount of regularity. After all, he only had three weeks remaining, and he intended to make the most of it.
~*~
Hours later, Philip sat smiling blandly at Lady Winters over a small glass of lemonade—it was entirely too warm for tea—as Libby pressed her pretty lips together as though attempting to suppress the pleased grin that lifted the corners of her mouth. His request had obviously had the desired effect.
The viscountess, on the other hand, blinked several times, her confusion abundantly clear. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Westbrook, but you would like to do what?”
“Hire Miss Abbington to help convert my rusty French into some basic Spanish. I underestimated the difficultly of being in a foreign place without knowledge of the language, and after a week of bumbling around like a fool, I’d like to do something about it.”
The idea had come to him in a flash as he had been walking home. After their conversations on the importance of always learning, it seemed the perfect, if wildly unconventional, excuse to spend more time with her. Libby had a passion for languages—what better way to enjoy each other’s company than by tapping into that passion?
“I . . . see,” Lady Winters responded lamely, sending a sideways glance to Libby. “I must say, that is a most unusual request. In fact, I believe we can safely call it unseemly.”
Libby straightened her features as she met her friend’s gaze. “What is unseemly about a gentlemen wishing to improve his mind and his circumstance? I’m rather impressed that he would wish to undertake such a task.”
“Perhaps,” Lady Winters said, even as she shook her head. “However, I believe your uncle might very well kill me if I allow such a thing. A lady cannot accept payment for anything, let alone dabble in actual work.”
“Excellent point,” Libby said, her amber eyes sparkling as she nodded solemnly. “Obviously I could never charge a friend for simply helping him to learn a few pertinent phrases. However, I am more than happy to donate my time to such a worthy cause. In fact, I think it would be great fun.”
Philip almost choked on a laugh. Was she calling him a charity case? Still, the fact that she was so eager to go along with his plan buoyed his spirits tremendously. “What a generous soul you are, Miss Abbington. I would be eternally grateful should you decide to honor me with your talents.”
“Of course, Mr. Westbrook. I’m flattered you should think me capable of helping you.” She was the very picture of innocence, smiling at him like that.
Lady Winters glanced back and forth between them, clearly undecided as to what to say. From what he’d observed, she may be acting as chaperone, but she was a friend, as well, so it was impossible to predict what she would decide. “I don’t know. How would such a thing work?”
“I am a firm believer that the best way to learn a language is to immerse oneself in it. Perhaps Mr. Westbrook and I should take a daily promenade—with Colleen in tow, of course—and we could start by translating the signs, the shops, and naming common objects in the marketplace.”
The viscountess pursed her lips. “Perhaps we could simply call it a walk, then. Surely your uncle wouldn’t object to a walk?”
“Of course not,” Libby said firmly. “He sent me on at least a dozen walks and carriage rides with gentlemen of the ton this Season.”
Looking somewhat relieved, Lady Winters nodded. “It’s settled then. Though I do think two or three times a week at most would be prudent. When would you like to start?”
Philip allowed a pleased grin to come to his lips. “I’d like to spend the rest of the day with Nigel, but are you free tomorrow morning? Perhaps before the temperatures rise too much?”
“I am, indeed. Is ten o’clock acceptable? A little early by English standards, but it should still be quite pleasant at that hour.”
Already, anticipation coursed through his veins at the thought of having her to himself again. “Perfect. I shall see you then.”
Chapter 6
Libby could scarce recall a time when she had been more excited. It was a simple enough thing—taking a walk while teaching a bit of Spanish—but the outing wasn’t what was so thrilling. It was the fact that Philip had purposely sought her out. He’d as good as announced to her that he enjoyed spending time with her and wanted to do so more often.
And she felt exactly the same way.
As they started off down the street, he smiled that lovely smile of his as her fingers rested on the familiar perch of his forearm. “Good morning,” he said, the word much warmer than the polite greeting they had shared when he had arrived at her door earlier.
She looked up into those soulfu
l blue eyes of his and smiled. “Buenos días.”
He chuckled, the sound sliding over her like velvet. “And so it begins. Very well. Buenos días.”
“Very good,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I think you shall be an excelente study, Señor Westbrook.”
“Ah yes, I do so like the words that match English so closely. And for the record,” he added, pulling her just a little closer to his side, “me llamo Philip, if you please.”
Her brow lifted as she glanced up at him in surprise. “Breaking the rules, are we?”
“I merely thought it would be easier when we are together like this. After all, I am your pupil, no?”
Was he teasing her? If so, she was more than happy to play along. “Indeed, you are. But I’m not sure I want to be Miss Abbington if you are Philip, even if I am your teacher.”
He led them around a stand of citrus fruits that partially blocked the pavement before answering. “Then Libby it is.”
She loved the sound of her name on his lips. The only men who ever called her that were her cousins, Nick and William. With them, it was ordinary, but with Philip? A sweet shiver ran down the back of her neck. It was perfect.
They spent the next half hour wandering through the market, walking just a little too close together as she pointed to fruits and vegetables, buildings and people, patiently naming each in Spanish. They both knew it was a pretext, but if it could keep her by his side, than she was happy to keep it up.
He was absolutely terrible at the language, though, and comically mangled the pronunciations as he repeated after her. She laughed frequently and happily soaked up his easy smiles and teasing scowls.
“You are a very good sport, Philip,” she said when he’d joined in her laughter after he’d tried to pronounce pájaro when she’d pointed to a gull flying overhead.
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