Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,221

He planted his hands on his hips and shrugged. “It seemed a good way to prove once and for all that we are well suited.”

She decided to let his description of her as a yapping female pass. “But passion is surely not enough to sustain a marriage,” she persisted.

“It’s certainly a good start,” he muttered. “May we talk of something else?”

“No. What I’m trying to say—”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You are always trying to say something.”

“It’s what makes me charming,” she said peevishly.

He looked at her with exaggerated patience. “Eloise. We are well suited and will enjoy a perfectly pleasant and amiable marriage. I don’t know what else to say or do to prove it.”

“But you don’t love me,” she said, her voice soft.

That seemed to knock the wind out of him, and he just stopped and stared at her for the longest moment. “Why do you say things like that?” he asked.

She shrugged helplessly. “Because it’s important.”

For a moment he did nothing but stare. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that every thought and feeling doesn’t need to be given voice?”

“Yes,” she said, a lifetime of regrets wrapped into that single syllable. “All the time.” She looked away, discomforted by the odd, hollow sensation rumbling in her throat. “I can’t seem to help myself, though.”

He shook his head, obviously perplexed, which didn’t surprise her. Half the time she perplexed herself. Why had she forced the issue? Why couldn’t she ever be subtle, coy? Her mother had once told her that she could catch more flies with honey than a sledgehammer, but Eloise never could learn to keep her thoughts to herself.

She had practically asked Sir Phillip if he loved her, and his silence was as much of an answer as no would have been. Her heart twisted. She hadn’t really thought he would contradict her, but her disappointment was proof that some tiny part of her had been hoping that he’d drop to his knees and cry out that he did love her, that he cherished her, and was in fact quite certain that he would die without her.

Which was all nothing but rot, and she didn’t know why she’d even wished for it, when she didn’t love him, either.

But she could. She had this feeling that if she gave it enough time, she could love this man. And maybe she’d just wanted him to say the same.

“Did you love Marina?” she asked, the words crossing her lips before she’d even had a chance to ponder the wisdom of asking. She winced. There she went again, asking questions that were far too personal.

It was a wonder he hadn’t thrown up his arms and run screaming in the opposite direction already.

He didn’t answer for the longest moment. They just stood there, watching one another, trying to ignore Anthony, who was studiously examining a tree some thirty yards away. Finally, in a low voice, Phillip said, “No.”

Eloise didn’t feel elated; she didn’t feel sorrow. She didn’t feel anything at all at his pronouncement, which surprised her. But she did let out a long breath, one she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. And she did feel rather glad that she now knew.

She hated the not knowing. About anything.

And so she really shouldn’t have been surprised when she whispered, “Why did you marry her?”

A rather blank expression washed over his eyes, and finally he just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

She nodded. It all made so much sense. It was exactly the sort of thing he would do. Phillip was always doing the right thing, the honorable thing, apologizing for his transgressions, shouldering everyone’s burdens . . .

Honoring his brother’s promises.

And then she had one more question. “Did you . . .” she whispered, almost losing her nerve. “Did you feel passion for her?” She knew she shouldn’t ask, but after that afternoon, she had to know. The answer didn’t matter—or at least she told herself it didn’t.

But she had to know.

“No.” He turned away, began to walk, his long stride forcing her to jump to attention and follow. But then, just when she’d gathered enough speed to catch up, he stopped, causing her to stumble and put her hands out against his arm just to keep her balance.

“I have a question for you,” he said, his voice abrupt.

“Of course,” she murmured, surprised by his sudden change of demeanor. Still, it was only fair. She’d practically interrogated the poor man.

“Why did you leave