Page 66 of His Haunted Duchess
He sat up, slapping his hand against his forehead.
“I adore my husband—mind, body, and soul. I love him as deeply as the rivers that flow to the sea. I wish that he would sweep me up in his arms, and?—”
Caroline flushed until she looked as red as a primrose.
“Philip! What a gross way to express such a sentiment.”
Philip looked at her significantly.
“Gross, perhaps, but not untrue. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you thinkhe’snot looking. You practically dangle after him.”
Caroline shifted uncomfortably in the summer heat. If only she had her fan, she could cool herself down somewhat. The shade had suddenly gotten much warmer than she preferred.
“You exaggerate, surely,” she said. “Your brother is very handsome, that’s all, and easy to look at.”
Philip raised his eyebrows, brushing away crumbs from his lips.
“You don’t look at me that way, and his face is similar to mine, is it not?”
His face, young and boyish, he held in a shaft of light, striking a pose similar to ones she had seen in the portrait hall. Despite her discomfort, Caroline smiled at him fondly.
“You are handsome as well, of course—a very elegant, pastry-covered figure of a young man.”
Philip’s eyes narrowed, but he turned his attention to the basket, fussing with the latch on the side of the woven wicker.
“Even if I’ve looked elegant in the past, I can’t have looked as elegant as you did covered in jam.” He availed himself to entremets and a slathered scone. The berry preserve glittered like rubies in the sunlight. “Do you remember that night? When you looked at Frederic, your eyes looked as soft as a doe’s and as wide as a rabbit’s.”
Caroline cleared her throat.
“Thank you for the comparison to woodland animals, sir. That has very much proved my elegance, and I am much gratified.” Philip glared at her, but she ignored him. It was time to lead him to something less fraught. “Is blueberry still your favorite? It was so many months ago that I had nearly forgotten.”
“I believe in loyalty,” Philip said, as if he was a rajah holding foreign court over a circle of jam bottle djinn. “Without puttingblueberry in a dudgeon, I also support variety. Occasionally, it must be admitted, I indulge in other jams from Fortnum and Masons.”
“Frederic—” Caroline colored up and cut herself short. Now, she had done it. She had brought him back to the one subject she wished to avoid. Philip’s cheeks nearly burst with vindication and hand pie.
“Frederic—whom you adore as I said, but continue.”
“I was only going to say,” Caroline said with some asperity, “that Frederic mentioned to me the other day how he had been meaning to make a trip to London soon for the express purpose of visiting that shop. Surely, I can say my husband’s name without discouraging your repast.”
Philip, who had by this point consumed a substantial amount of soporific summer food, leaned back on the blanket and sighed contentedly.
“I do hope Winifred gets here in time with that tea. Otherwise, I might just have to content myself with setting up your bristles and taking a lovely, warm nap.”
“You young blood of the fancy! What a rogue!” Caroline shook her head over him but smiled. “Don’t you have anything better to do than irk me at a picnic I hosted especially for you?”
Philip blew a piece of grass off his nose and flicked it towards Caroline’s dress.
“Not particularly. It does strike me as odd, though, how easy you are to tease and about your own husband, too. Don’t you like him?”
Caroline looked away, down toward the lake. The sun flickered on the water, casting the glint back to her like the flash of a blade. She shuddered.
“Caroline?” Philip pulled her back. The levity and lightheadedness were gone, fading like a sunset. “You do like him, don’t you? Frederic, I mean.”
His voice was plaintive, like a child asking for a bedtime story. Caroline looked into his worried eyes. She wanted to comfort him, to ebb the rising tide of doubt she saw rising in his eyes, but she had sworn to keep her distance—to make a boundary of safety between Frederic and her curse, her haunting past. She took a deep, shaky breath.
“I—I do like him. Very much.”
Philip sat up on one elbow.
