Page 27 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
Chapter 13
The rich scent of cigars hung in the air, curling like ghostly ribbons above the flickering firelight of the gentlemen’s club. The hush of low conversation, the clink of brandy glasses, and the deep leather chairs lent the room an air of private camaraderie. In one quiet corner, Philip and Cedric sat at ease, the air between them thick with unspoken understanding.
It was the sort of sanctuary where a man might, at last, speak freely.
Philip, normally reserved about matters of the heart, found himself opening up to Cedric about all that was happening in his life. He knew that this was the one person that he could trust no matter what was going on.
“So, old pal,” Cedric began, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “how fares married life?”
His tone was casual, but Philip knew better—his friend had sensed the restlessness in him, as always.
Philip exhaled slowly, letting the question settle before answering. “It is… difficult,” he said at last. “We do not quite know how to be with one another. We do not know how to be."
Cedric nodded, unsurprised. “A hasty wedding will do that. Especially when it arises from scandal."
Philip gave a humourless smile. “Indeed. And I do not blame her. But I find myself … holding back. There is a distance between us, and I fear I am the one maintaining it.”
“Because of Lady Sophia?”
Philip hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Her betrayal left me wary of giving too much of myself. I loved her. Foolishly, blindly. And I became—” he paused, his voice tightening, “a piece in a game I never knew I was playing.”
Cedric said nothing, allowing Philip to continue.
“She admitted as much, you know. That her courtship was orchestrated by her father, that my affections had been... useful.” He looked away, eyes fixed on the swirl of smoke above them. “Since then, I have kept women at a distance. It was easy, until now.”
“Because now,” Cedric said gently, “you have a wife.”
Philip nodded.
“Marriage, even one born of necessity, deserves more than polite civility,” Cedric continued. “You are not the man you were when Lady Sophia deceived you. And your wife is not Lady Sophia.”
Philip took a long, contemplative draw from his cigar.
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “But it is difficult to trust again. To open one’s heart, knowing it might be crushed underfoot.”
Cedric leaned forward, the firelight catching the thoughtful crease of his brow. “You cannot let the misdeeds of one woman condemn the affections of another. Lady Sophia was a lesson, yes—but not a prophecy. You must judge Blanche by her own merits.”
Philip considered this in silence.
“She is... unlike anyone I have ever known,” he said eventually. “There’s a sincerity in her, a depth. We share a passion for antiquities, and when she speaks of them—there is a light in her eyes that is difficult to look away from.”
Cedric smiled slowly. “And yet you hesitate.”
“Because I do not wish to hurt her. Nor to mislead her. I do not even know what I can offer her beyond stability and a title. But...” he trailed off, the flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. “There is something there. Something I had not expected.”
“Then pursue it,” Cedric said simply. “Let it grow. Affection, trust, even love—they do not always arrive all at once.Sometimes they build slowly, like a fire that must be carefully tended. Give it the chance to kindle.”
Philip stared into the heart of the fire, his expression contemplative.
"You know… I have not looked for love for years…"
"Yet marriage has managed to find you regardless. How funny life can be. I am interested in seeing the pair of you together…"
"Well, we’re hosting a ball at Brooksdale. My mother’s idea. She believes it will help reintroduce Blanche to society. I suppose you shall be in attendance.”
“Naturally,” Cedric replied. “And I look forward to it. Though it does strike me as amusing—you’ve yet to dance with your own wife.”
Philip blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “No, I haven’t,” he said slowly. “Not once.”
