On hearing the carriages begin to roll away, Anthony had wandered to the window, enjoying the view of the departing guests. Only a few moments later, a solitary figure had caught his eye, slowly walking towards the entrance to the woods. With surprise, he realized that it was Eliza. Why was she alone? From her dress, he guessed that it had been unintentional, which beggared the question, how had she managed to be left behind?

Ripping his cravat from his neck, he shrugged out of his coat and unbuttoned a few shirt buttons. His boots were polished to a high shine and, with a growl of frustration, he ran the length of the hall to his room, quickly changing into the dull, mud-covered boots of his gardener disguise. Throwing open the front door, he walked quickly towards the wood, hoping that Eliza had not chosen to turn back. He wanted to find out if she had come up with any solution to her current predicament, he told himself, that was why he was chasing her with such fervor.

Shaking his head, he acknowledged the truth. He was attracted to the lady. She built such a fire in him that he didn't think it could ever be put out. Why then was he donning his gardener persona instead of revealing who he truly was?

Having no time to consider his question, he entered the woods only a few yards behind Eliza, catching up with her quickly.

“Miss?”

“Oh!” came her startled response. “Phillip, I had not expected to see you.” Anthony hated to see sadness on her face once again, wishing he could take the hurt away.

"I saw you enter the woods," he replied, trying to catch his breath. "I did not wish you to get lost." It was a poor excuse, but one he hoped she would accept without question.

Eliza, whilst pleased to see Phillip, began to walk again without any further conversation. Everything felt in such confusion, her own heart included. John had both frightened and hurt her with his words and his actions. Lord Penn would not leave her alone. Sophie apparently had a penchant for John. What was she to do?

Anthony was nonplussed for a moment, at Eliza’s lack of conversation. He had hoped she would be glad to see him again, but it appeared she was lost in her thoughts. With nothing else to do, he walked alongside her for a time, then a few steps behind. Every time he thought about asking her what troubled her or why she had not gone with the others on the picnic, the words failed him. He couldn’t get his mouth unstuck.

“Phillip,” Eliza began, looking back at him for a moment. “Might you take me to the place we sat at before?”

“Certainly,” Anthony replied, wanting to do anything he could for her. “This way, ma’am.”

Following the gardener, Eliza fell into a deep despair. She felt as though she were a puppet in a play, being dragged here and there by some master puppeteer. Sitting heavily on the tree stump, she put her face in her hands and sobbed.

She didn’t know how long she cried for, allowing her emotions full sway. At some point, she felt Phillip’s arms around her, pulling her to his chest and letting her cry all over him, soaking part of his shirt with her tears. Eventually, her weeping fit passed, leaving her feeling completely empty.

“Can you tell me what it is that’s troubling you?” Phillip asked her quietly.

Saying nothing, Eliza continued to lean against him, drawing from his strength. How strange it was to find comfort in the arms of a gardener. She sat up, still sniffing now and again, but giving him a watery smile. She shivered, whether from the cold or her emotions she wasn’t quite sure. Anthony frowned, half wishing he’d brought his own coat.

“I’ll make a fire, shall I?”

"Yes, that would be wonderful. The earl won't mind?"

Anthony shook his head, remembering that he was still Phillip in her eyes. “No, I shouldn’t think so. I often set a small bonfire here.” Showing her the place where he kept his flints, Anthony set about making a small fire to warm her chilled bones. Soon it was crackling merrily, the warmth bringing a smile to Eliza’s face.

“So,” Anthony began, hoping his questions did not cause Eliza to break down in tears once more. “Why are you here all alone? I was certain I saw the other guests depart.”

A little anger flared up inside Eliza as she was reminded of her situation. "Lord Stockton was to ask Mama to wait for me as I had to fix my hair, but when I returned from my room, there was no one in sight.” Her mouth drew into a thin line as she thought of John and his behavior towards her.

“Ah,” Anthony replied, wondering whether it had a deliberate oversight. “What happened to your hair?”

Eliza blushed, smoothing her skirt to avoid answering the question. “It became a little mussed, that is all.”

There was more to her answer than met the eye, and it had not fooled Anthony one bit. “I see,” he replied, a sarcastic edge to his words. “I suppose Lord Stockton must steal your kisses when he can.” The thought of Lord Stockton kissing Eliza made him inordinately irate.

“It wasn’t like that,” Eliza replied, her own voice rising. “I do not behave in such a way with him.”

“No?” Anthony’s eyebrows rose. “Why else did you need to fix your hair?”

“He frightened me!” Eliza cried, leaping to her feet. Her words echoed around the woods, as she instantly felt a flush of embarrassment over what she had revealed to Phillip. Why did his opinion of her matter so much? She sank back down onto the tree stump, unable to look at him again. What must he think of her?

Anthony stared at Eliza, dumbfounded. The poor woman. Not only had she Lord Penn breathing down her neck, apparently, Lord Stockton had been pressing his attentions on her as well, quite firmly it appeared. He got to his feet, walking back and forth, trying to rid himself of some of the growing anger he felt towards Lord Stockton.

“I hope you do not think less of me,” he heard Eliza whisper. In a moment, he was by her side, kneeling so he could look into her face.

“Of course I do not think less of you, Miss Williams,” he replied, remembering at the last moment that he was meant to be Phillip.

Eliza looked at him, taking in both his concerned face and his brilliant blue eyes. She wanted Phillip to think well of her, even though he was a mere servant in the earl’s household. She was perfectly aware that it did not make sense but, in that moment, she did not care.

“I do wish you would call me Eliza,” she found herself saying. “I feel as though we are dear friends already.”

Anthony smiled at her, her beauty taking his breath away. “I should very much like that, Eliza.” He patted her hand for a moment. “What did Lord Stockton do that frightened you so?”

“He was just very persistent,” Eliza replied, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. “He was a little forceful, but I know I did not respond as I ought.” She was surprised to see a frown mar Phillip’s handsome face. “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he answered. “No, Eliza, not at all.” Her name tasted like honey on his tongue. “It is your Lord Stockton who is in the wrong; he should not have used his strength against a gentle lady like yourself.”

Eliza sighed. “He is not ‘my’ Lord Stockton, Phillip. He wishes me to be, and for a long time, I have thought it my dearest wish. Now I am not as certain as I once was.”

Trying to keep the grin from his face, Anthony continued to hold her hand, not wanting to break the spell that was keeping them bound to each other.

“Do you love him?” he asked, presently.

Eliza turned her face to him. “I am not sure what love is, if I am honest. Do I sound ridiculous? You are laughing at me!”

Anthony couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “I am not laughing, my dear, Eliza. Tis only that I believe you would know for sure, were you in love with him.”

“Truly?” Eliza asked, her eyes searching his face. “Do you truly think so?”

Anthony found he could barely breathe as he looked into Eliza’s face. If he mistook her feelings, then this could all end in disaster, but he was determined to try.

“Eliza,” he began quietly, pulling her up to stand in front of him. “If you were truly in love with someone, then you would feel something for him.”

“But I do, Phillip, I do,” Eliza interjected. “I care for him. I respect him. I…”

“I am not speaking of that,” Anthony continued, briskly. “More than just care or respect. Those are important, of course, but what he makes you feel when you see him.”

He saw the incomprehension on Eliza’s face and decided to use something other than words to make her understand. He took a step towards her, slipping his hands around her waist. Eliza made no protest.

“It is something almost too hard to explain. It is butterflies; it is a feeling of being lighter than air, a desire to touch their skin or hold their hand.” He lifted one of his hands to her face and tipped her chin up gently. “Do you feel it?”

Eliza couldn't catch her breath; such was her reaction to his presence. The touch of his hand set her body aflame, and a blush touched her cheeks as she struggled to hide her response. She knew that she felt nothing like this when John was near her. He did not make her pulse race or her skin tingle. It was only with Phillip. What was happening to her?

"Don't fight it," she heard him whisper, lowering his head to lean against her own. "This is the magic that you are looking for, to know if you are truly on the path to love."

Eliza tried to speak but could only make a strangled sound, closing her eyes as she raised her arms and placed them around his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. She heard him inhale sharply, pulling her tight against him. John had done the same, and she had fought him, but with Phillip, she wanted him never to let her go.

“Eliza,” Anthony whispered. “Do you ever feel these things with John?” He lifted his head to look into her face.

“No,” she breathed, seeing a faint smile on his face.

“What about with me?”

Eliza studied him, knowing she had to be honest. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Phillip, I do.”

At her words, Anthony kissed her full on the mouth, his lips both soft and insistent at the same time. Instead of standing, frozen in place, Eliza found herself responding in kind, clinging to him as her body and heart cried out for more. Too soon, he stopped, pulling himself away as they both stared at one another, breathless.

“I am sorry, Eliza, I am sorry. I must stop before I forget myself.”

Eliza, her heart thumping loudly, stared at Phillip in astonishment. He had revealed to her a depth of emotion and a greater level of desire, and she could not deny her feelings for him. ‘On the path to love,' he had said. Was that true? Was she falling in love with Phillip?

They walked back to the house, stealing glances at each other, but being careful not to let it go any further. Eliza was embarrassed by her behavior, but she could not change her thoughts from the handsome gardener.

Later that evening, Lord Stockton seemed eager to spend as much time as he could with Eliza, most likely in an attempt to make up for his previous lack of decorum. On the whole, Eliza remained silent, struggling with all manner of emotions.

Her afternoon with Phillip had opened her eyes to a great many things, and she knew she could not face a future of banality with Lord Stockton. Mayhap, she thought to herself, if John kissed her, just as Phillip had, she would feel the same things. Then she would know for certain whether or not he aroused such feelings within her. There was no future with Phillip—she knew that—but that didn’t stop her from daydreaming about meeting him again.

"John," she began, completely interrupting his unheeded conversation. "Might we take a turn around the room?" Ignoring his surprise, she took him by the arm and walked slowly round the room before exiting into the corridor, as they had done at the beginning of the house party.

"I must apologize again, Eliza, for my behavior earlier today; it was most discourteous of me."

“You left me alone, John. Did you forget to tell my mother?”

A look of guilt crossed his face as he moved his gaze to somewhere over her left shoulder. “I must confess that I did, my dear. Your dear sister called me to join her party, and before I could explain myself, we had departed. I became so caught up in the conversation, I must confess that I quite forgot.” He hung his head. “I have behaved quite despicably, my dear. I must ask your forgiveness twice over.”

Eliza studied him for a moment, knowing that these next few minutes would determine her life’s path. “John, I want you to kiss me.”

His reaction was immediate. “Kiss you? Even after…?”

“Yes,” Eliza replied, keeping her voice steady. “Just be gentle, John.”

“I shall,” he murmured, enfolding her in his arms and leaning down to kiss her. It was gentle and slow, just as she’d requested, but Eliza felt nothing. After her experiences with Phillip, she knew that she would never be happy with John. A few moments later, John lifted his head, released her, and stepped back.

“Was that more satisfactory, my dear?”

Eliza smiled at him gently. “Yes, John, it was. Nevertheless, I must be honest with you. I do not think we shall suit.” His expression changed slightly, but she continued on, “I care about you very much, but I know that nothing will come from our relationship other than friendship, and I yearn for love.”

John said nothing for a few moments, Eliza scrutinizing each and every emotion that flickered over his features. He took a deep breath.

“Eliza,” he replied, taking her hand. “I must be honest. I am vastly relieved to hear you say those words.”

“You are?” Eliza’s surprise was obvious.

“Indeed, my dear, for I, too, long for love. I thought that I had found it with you, but these last days have shown me that my heart belongs to another. As things stood between us, I felt compelled to remain by your side.”

"John," Eliza replied, shaking her head at him in mock dismay. "You mean to say that we would have become engaged, and even married, if I had not said anything?"

"Of course, my dear," he answered. "My manners never fail me—most of the time." He gave her a rueful smile as she let out a sigh of relief, glad that their familiarity would not end in bad feeling. "Now I am free to pursue the one my heart is calling for," he finished.

“Oh, John,” Eliza breathed, as suddenly everything fell into place. “Do you mean to tell me that your heart belongs to my sister?”

She remembered the passing looks between them, the way John had used her sister’s given name with such a familiarity, Sophie’s blushes as she indicated it was not the earl’s attention she wanted to catch.

He nodded, almost crying with relief. “It is, it is, my dear Eliza, and she feels the same for me, I know she does.” He took her hand. “There has been nothing said between us, nothing of any affectionate nature, such was my loyalty to you. Oh, Eliza, you do not hate me?”

Eliza shook her head, marveling at the wonder of the situation. "Not at all, John. I think you will make my sister very happy. May I suggest you go and find her to give her this wonderful news? I shall be along momentarily."

John bowed over her hand before taking his leave, a lightness in his step that she had never seen before. Thinking hard, Eliza leaned against the wall, alone in the dim light. Propriety meant that John would have married her, regardless of his feelings for her sister. A marriage such as that would have been bound for disaster, no matter how much they respected one another. Propriety be damned!

She thought of Phillip, and how his kisses made her feel more than she ever thought possible—and she made her decision. She would pursue something, anything, with Phillip, regardless of what society thought. They were on the path to love; she was sure of it. Hugging herself with happiness, she began to make her way slowly back to the ballroom, thinking she'd barely sleep a wink that night.

Anthony slammed the door to his study so hard, it rattled on its hinges. He'd been walking along the hallway, only to see Eliza and John embracing in a corner. It had been like a knife to his heart. He'd given her so much of himself, believing himself half in love with her already, when she was playing him for a fool.

Perhaps it had all been a charade, a chance to practice the art of love before ensnaring Lord Stockton. The stories of Lord Penn, the sobbing, the crying—it had all been a show, enticing a humble gardener who would be all too willing to comfort a lady of quality. Throwing back a glass of whiskey, Anthony relished the feel of the sudden warmth in his belly, the fire burning his throat. He suddenly could not wait for tomorrow's ball. He'd show Eliza who he really was and see the chagrin and shock on her face as she realized she'd thrown away the chance to be a Countess. He'd relish the moment, enjoy her shame, and then turn away, never to see her again. A grim smile crossed his face as he poured himself another glass. She'd never see him coming.