Page 23 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter twenty-three

Grace

I had never been nervous about receiving a note from Phillip. I had also given up trying to think of him as Mr. Montfert. No matter how I chided my thoughts, they inevitably shattered that particular formality with the memory of a dark, hidden passage. I could hardly be blamed for the struggle after what happened, but so long as I kept my spoken address formal, eventually the conflicting feelings I harbored would disappear.

At least, that is what I told myself.

Having an affection for Phillip Montfert was out of the question. I held him in high regard, yes, but I could not allow it to become more. He was my client. So long as I remembered that, all would work itself out.

I folded his note and tucked it into the pocket of my dress. Hyde was lovely this early in the morning with the only disruption to my peace the song of birds singing and fluttering eagerly between the trees. Sunlight glistened off the damp grass, and after so much rain the past week, more flowers had blossomed in rich colors, giving the air an almost sweet scent I could taste.

The cold stone bench beneath me provided a nice respite for my leg. I had walked here again, this time at a slow pace to minimize the pain, but even after days of rest following my excursion to Phillip’s townhouse, the limb ached.

I pulled the small notebook I was using to take notes out of my reticule and glanced over the list of my client’s qualities. I’d added many to it since the day I met Phillip. There were words like handsome, intelligent, well-read, and honest. Those I could attribute to many of the men of my acquaintance.

But there were others, ones that made my heart sputter and always seemed to hold my attention. Like warm and strong. Neither of those things should be on the list at all because they were not qualities I should have ever been close enough to the man to notice.

Neither did knowing that Phillip smelled of something earthy with hints of citrus help keep my thoughts where they should be.

I blew out a slow breath through puffed cheeks, my gaze moving farther down the list. Phillip was also patient and kind. He supported and showed his care through tender words and touches. How had a man raised by Victor Perry turned out so completely different from his guardian? Phillip’s uncle was one of the most conniving and cruel people I had ever met. Once Phillip inherited, would he turn into a similar monster with no thought for anything but fortune and social standing?

No, Phillip was too good of a man to become anything like Mr. Perry. That his uncle had gained at least some of his wealth by illegal means fit his character.

What did Phillip and Sabrina intend to do with the information?

I bit my lip, gently closing the notebook. Sabrina was a conundrum. Our time together at the ball had been pleasant. She was nothing like the woman I remembered, who had been eager to make an impression upon society and bask in the attention. No, Sabrina had secluded herself from the crush, and her demeanor was no longer one of a high-stepped duchess.

And she had found me and Phillip alone in the library. She could have run with that information and devastated my reputation. Instead, she had escorted me home to ensure my family had no suspicions about my absence.

Perhaps I was not ready to trust Sabrina completely, but she had changed. It seemed for the better.

“My, you look rather pensive today, Miss Scott.”

I glanced up at the sound of Phillip’s voice, and the smile he wore squeezed my stomach. Why must he be so handsome?

“I suppose I am.” I slid to the left side of the bench to make room for him. His brows furrowed, and he hesitated a moment before taking a seat next to me. Normally, we met in the clearing, a place secluded where we would not be disturbed by anyone venturing to the park this early in the morning. But upon receiving his note, I decided it would be best that we not meet there when I had no chaperone.

Since neither Annette nor Rus could accompany me, and I had no intention of bringing along a maid, a bench well within the eyes of the public would have to do.

“Tell me, Miss Scott. What is it that so fully consumes your thoughts?” His leg pressed into mine as he angled himself to face me, and warmth spread through my body.

I shifted closer to the edge of the bench. Much farther, and I might fall off. “There is a great deal on my mind. I admit, I do not know your intentions anymore. After the things we heard from your uncle…well, it changes everything, does it not?”

“For now, it changes nothing. We do not have enough evidence to pursue anything. Regardless, you needn’t fear. I will pay you for your help, no matter what.”

Payment was the least of my concerns.

“But you intend to keep looking? For evidence, I mean.” I hated how hopeful my voice sounded. If Phillip was free to choose a wife with no expectation from his uncle, would that mean I stood a chance? It was a ridiculous notion and one I should not allow myself to cling to. Nonsensical as it was, I could not help it. I had never believed I would marry, but the man beside me had made it clear he did not consider me broken. That I should not give up on finding a match for myself. Did that include him as a possibility, or had I mistaken his interest in me for something more akin to friendship?

“Sabrina is intent on it,” said Phillip. “I must tread more cautiously. There is much at stake, and not simply for myself.” He drummed his fingers against his leg. “May I ask for your discretion, Miss Scott? Please keep the things you have heard to yourself. At least, for the time being.”

“Of course. I would never betray your confidence.”

He smiled slightly, his tone soft. “I know. Tell me, how are you faring today? Has your leg recovered?”

“Well enough, but let us focus on you. Last we met, we did not…well, we never had a chance to discuss Miss Rigby. I would like to know your opinion of her and whether pursuing her is still something you want. Or if another woman…that is to say, a woman from my list. Not myself, of course. Even after…not that anything happened, but if someone else might interest you, then we could discuss her instead.”

Good heavens.

Phillip stared at me. I averted my gaze, but I could still feel his attention on me. My cheeks were warm, and there was no way he could miss my embarrassment.

“Miss Scott?” His gentle tone tugged at me, but I kept my gaze forward. If I looked at him, I would feel things, and there was no telling what those things might be. Likely things I shouldn’t. Even sitting this close to him set my heart to pounding. Why I had ever believed I could forget what occurred in that corridor, I did not know. Clearly, my body could not, even now as it relished in the ghostly memory of his touch, his warmth, and his breath on my skin.

And drat it all if he smelled just as good today as he had then.

I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath. Perhaps the best course of action was not to ignore what happened, but to acknowledge it and move forward. How did one begin such a conversation?

Fortunately, Phillip took the reins. “Miss Scott, if I have made you uncomfortable, I apologize. It was never my intention—”

“You haven’t.” I turned to face him and took in his weary expression. He was worried, and this awkwardness between us would never fade until we addressed the cause of it. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable. What happened at your townhouse was…”

Was something. I did not know how to describe it; at least, not in a way that would make things better.

“I would say a mistake,” said Phillip, “but I’ve no wish to offend you.”

I smiled wryly. “Mistake would imply that anything happened. We both know our proximity was a matter of being in a confined space and your honorable intentions to make me comfortable. That is all. Right?”

I hated how uncertain I sounded. It was embarrassing, especially with how Phillip studied me. Had I made more of this than I should have? What if the things I felt were one-sided?

“Of course,” he said finally. “I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought and concluded our…moment in the corridor was simply born out of comfort. True, I had hoped to give your leg respite from standing, but more than that, I think of you as a friend. I am not generally so at ease with ladies, largely due to my lack of experience, but you are different.”

“And because I am your friend and you do not see me as a potential wife, you are not burdened with the expectation to impress. Is that correct?”

He studied me for another long moment. “Yes. That must be it.” He smiled, though it seemed somewhat forced. “There is no reason not to act myself with you. I can relax, which removes much of my anxiety, I think. Your company is always refreshing and comfortable, which is why…” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. Still, he did not finish.

I shoved down my disappointment. “Which is why we should put what happened—or rather, what did not happen—aside. We are friends, and I say as both your friend and your matchmaker, it is time we spoke of Miss Rigby.”

He nodded. “I have called on her several times since the ball.”

“You have?” My jaw clenched as I fought the jealousy coiling within me. “Good. How did it go?”

“Not well, if I am to be honest. Miss Rigby is kind enough, but I find it difficult to persuade her into conversation. And her mother…” Phillip rubbed a hand over his neck. “She is never happy with my presence. I do not think she welcomes my suit.”

“And what of her father? Her mother may oppose, but in reality, the decision comes down to him.”

“I’ve made no contact with the man. I suppose I should try.” Phillip sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. I wanted to ease his burdens. Unfortunately, the only way for me to do that was to help him find a wife. The monster of jealousy living inside me did not take well to that fact.

“You are hesitant,” I said. “What is it about Miss Rigby that gives you pause? Is it merely her parents or something more?”

Phillip chuckled. “More like something less. I cannot even explain, as I barely understand it myself. She is a beautiful woman, but there is no”—he lifted his hands and dropped them into his lap with exasperation—“no desire? No wish to hold her close or share my deepest thoughts and secrets.” His gaze fell to my lips. “No wish to kiss her.”

Oh dear. I was not the only one struggling to forget, then.

Phillip shook himself from a trance. “What do you advise me to do? How can I get to know Miss Rigby better when she is so shy? Surely, if we learned more about one another, the rest would fall into place?”

“Perhaps,” I answered honestly. “You find her amiable. People have married for less. But I do think Miss Rigby, while shy, could be persuaded out of her shell.” I tilted my head and grinned. “With enough persistence and charm.”

Phillip laughed, shaking his head. “Persistence, I can manage. Charm is another thing, entirely.”

If he did not think himself charming, then he might be a touch mad.

“What if we made a list of questions for you to ask Miss Rigby? Questions that might pull her into conversation and afford you more clarity? Then you needn’t waste time coming up with things to talk to her about. You can even take the list with you.”

He reared back. “You do not think she would find my bringing a list of questions with me odd?”

“She might, but I imagine if you explain your nerves, she will understand. She might even think it is charming .”

“Would you?”

My brows tightened. “Would I what?”

“Would you find it charming if a man brought a list of questions with him while courting you? If he proclaimed his ineptitude for social calls but could not forgo his desire to see you? To be near you. Is it not important for us to present our strengths as a potential suitor rather than declare our weaknesses? I assumed a lady of quality would want strength in a husband.”

There was something vulnerable about his question, though what, I could not pinpoint. His blue eyes watched me carefully. He clearly valued my opinion on this, but I also saw in them genuine fear. Everyone had their secrets—their weaknesses—and although I had told Phillip I saw none of his, surely they were there. Simply well-hidden.

I glanced beyond the path to the blooming flowers, considering his question and my response. “There are many ways to define strength, Phillip. And weakness, for that matter. I would never shame anyone for realizing their faults. Their inadequacies. We all have them, and it is not until we accept them that we can change. How else are we to better ourselves if we first do not admit our imperfections?

“If I were ever so fortunate as to have a suitor, one whose regard I returned, then I would accept him as he is, just as I hope he would accept me.” I lifted my leg and nodded to it. “I will never be without this physical flaw. Sometimes I can hide it well, but it is still a part of who I am. It is an imperfection that can never be fixed and one I will live with the rest of my life.”

“And you never hesitate to tell people about the malady.” His words were a statement, not a question, as if he knew this by observation.

“Why should I? They are bound to learn of it eventually, and besides, I would rather they know from the beginning. Having the knowledge up front tends to separate those who would look down upon me for it from those who would not care a whit about the ailment. The former does not stick around for long, which has little bearing on me. Anyone who would judge me poorly for an ailment beyond my control is not someone worth having in my life anyway.”

Phillip stared at me, his blue-grey eyes filled with something akin to admiration. It made my cheeks warm and unleashed flutters in my chest. He could not look at me this way—not if we were to remain friends.

“You are very brave,” he whispered.

“It is not bravery. I cannot hide my limp all of the time if you recall. It is easier to tell the truth and not worry over people’s opinions.” I opened the notebook and retrieved a pencil from my reticule. It was time we got to work before Phillip found something else to compliment me on. Or another reason to look at me the way he had. “So, let us make a list of questions. What would you like to know about Miss Rigby?”