Chapter 15

Fifteen

I t is entirely possible to be lonely in a crowded room. The truthfulness of the thought struck Phil as she kept up with her aunt in the crush of Almack's. Unlike the duke's ball, Aunt Healand seemed determined to introduce Phil to every eligible bachelor in the room. The only explanation was her father had written to her aunt about the threatened marriage offer.

Already she'd been introduced to four men, one of which had asked her to dance the second set. The others had been polite. Phil pictured herself as a carrot being dragged around by its green top from buyer to buyer. A giggle welled up inside, and she quickly hid behind her fan.

At last, Aunt Healand stopped at a group of women, each old enough to be chaperoning their own children. Phil recognized the last name of the first woman she was introduced to from the list in Lord Endelton's book. The next lady also shared a name with the list. As the women talked, they revealed their daughters were dancing the current set. If nothing else, Phil could keep her promise to Lord Endelton and learn something from the women. Sadly, the conversation centered on silks, ribbons, and the difficulty of getting a good maid.

Phil bit her lip. Running her father's house for the last several years taught her most servants, when paid reasonably and treated kindly, were more than adequate for the job, and most even excellent. It couldn't be so different in the city, could it? Aunt Healand's staff was superior, as far as Phil could tell. A fact which her aunt related to the other women, effectively ending the discussion.

The woman with the most elaborate turban spoke. "Lady Healand, I thought you had two nieces with you for the Season."

Aunt dipped her fan. "Yes, I do. Miss Alexandra was unable to attend this evening."

"I heard she required a cane. Could she not get a voucher because of it?" asked the mother of the first woman on the list. Her condescending tone grated on Phil's nerves.

Aunt made a show of looking around the room, knowing that because of her leg, Alex hadn't applied for a voucher. "I see several people with canes, and they seem to enjoy the evening. Obviously the matrons don't give a fig about canes."

"But they are men."

"What of the Dowager Duchess Aylton?" asked Aunt Healand.

The woman's fan moved faster. "Entirely different. She is not here to find a husband."

"Says whom? She has been widowed nearly as long as I have. And I have never closed my mind to the possibility of finding love again."

Phil raised her fan to cover the smile. Oh, to be as free as her aunt in stating her mind.

The large turbaned woman was not to be dissuaded. "The duchess only uses a cane for show, not because she is missing a limb."

Two of the other women's eyes grew wide and one's jaw dropped. Most scrambled for their fans.

Aunt Healand tilted her head. "Listening to gossip again?"

"It isn't gossip. My Christina saw your nieces when they left the Duke of Aylton's ball." The woman lifted her chin.

Phil wondered where Lady Christina could have been. She'd seen no one in the garden. There were places someone could have concealed themselves. But why would one hide in a garden alone?

Aunt Healand raised her brow and turned to Phil. "I thought you said you left through the garden. You didn't happen to meet Lady Christina, did you?"

Surprised her aunt confirmed they left the ball, Phil answered as quickly as she could. "I've never had the pleasure."

Lady Christina's mother grasped the implication and stepped back. "Perhaps my daughter was mistaken. It was dark, and how could she see from such a distance?"

The set ended, and the dancers came to join those on the edge. There was a moment of introductions. The woman who Lord Endelton returned was the infamous Lady Christina. Phil met Miss Brand, another woman on the list. She was shorter than the rest, and her enormous eyes made her look younger than the average debutante.

After a moment of brief, meaningless conversation about the excellence of the musicians, the next set was called, disrupting the conversation.

A man in a bright orange vest with what appeared to be golden threads claimed his dance with Lady Christina. Lord Endelton escorted Miss Brand to the floor. One of the men Phil had been introduced to when they first entered appeared at her side. She allowed him to escort her to the floor while she tried to place his name.

"Do you know Lady Christina well?" he asked.

"No, I only met her this evening." Their conversation ended by necessity as they took their places for the country dance. Much to Phil's dismay, Lady Christina took the place at Phil's left. From the smile on her partner's face, his good fortune did not disappoint him.

Lady Christina hadn't said a word to Phil beyond the required ‘pleased to meet you' and Phil was already decided against her. The daughter might not be as terrible as the mother. The music started, and they wove their way through the steps. Her partner didn't talk when given the chance, not even to ask innocuous questions about her favorite dance or the weather. He missed more than one step while paying more attention to the other women in the set, in particular, to Lady Christina. By the time the set ended, Phil counted herself fortunate her toes had only been trod upon twice.

A Mr. Newcomb claimed her next dance. The colors of his clothing were not as bright as some of the men's, but they were of the finest quality. Unlike her other partners, he did talk of the weather and of the dancers before getting to more personal questions. "Lady Healand is your aunt correct?"

"Yes."

"She is the Earl of Whitstone's daughter?"

"Yes."

This time he didn't respond, other than with a tight smile. Obviously, the carrot's pedigree mattered. Her next turn brought her beside a redheaded man. A carrot top looking for a carrot. Phil was suddenly glad her dark blond hair didn't boast a bit of auburn.

Mr. Newcomb rejoined her in the next step. "When at home, do you attend church?"

"Of course." What an odd question. Everyone went to church.

"And do you read the Bible daily?"

Phil owned a small prayer book and a New Testament, but she rarely opened them to read for pleasure. "Not as often as I should."

Mr. Newcomb's eyebrows lowered at her response, but he made no comment as the set ended.

She found her aunt with another group of chaperones. Christina's mother wasn't among them.

"There you are Philippa. Have you met my friend Dowager Duchess Aylton?"

Phil curtsied. "We were introduced at the ball."

"Oh yes, you were with your sister. Do pass on my wishes for her speedy recovery."

"Yes, your Grace."

"You know my nephew, Lord Endelton?"

"We are acquainted."

The women scrutinized her from the toes of the slipper peeking out from under her hem to the little flowers Green had woven around her coiffure. "Are you pursuing him?"

Phil looked the duchess in the eye when she answered. "No."

The duchess stared back until Phil blinked. "That is what my son said. Pardon me for not believing him."

As happened with all awkward conversations, the person discussed appeared.

Lord Endelton greeted all the women by rank, starting with his aunt and ending with Phil. She couldn't help but smile at his stiff correctness.

"Miss Philippa, has someone claimed this set?"

"No."

"Will you do me the honor?"

"Of course." Phil laid her hand on his arm and allowed Lord Endelton to lead her to the floor. Several women glared icily at her.

Phil waited until they took their positions at the bottom of the line to speak. "It seems your dancing with me is cause for speculation."

"I didn't realize. My apologies." Michael didn't understand exactly what he was apologizing for. Only Deborah had told him it was safest to apologize to a woman if she ever thought he was in the wrong.

Miss Philippa gave the slightest shake to her head. "There is naught to do about it now. I considered twisting my ankle, however rumors about my sister are already filtering through the ton. If you carried me from the dance floor, it would go no better for either of us."

"Rumors? I hope you don't think I started them."

"No. You didn't."

At last, it was their turn to enter the floor. He led her through a promenade step and reminded himself this dance was about gaining information. "The gentleman you danced with two sets prior to this is desperate for funds."

"That explains his lack of attention, then. My dowery isn't large enough to tempt him." Her laugh blended with the music.

"Have you found anything out about my list?"

"I met two of the women this evening so briefly, I could not sketch their characters with any certainty." She looked away for part of her delivery.

"You hesitated."

"I met Lady Christina's mother long enough to hope to never be subject to her again."

"Like mother, like daughter?"

"Not necessarily." A crease appeared on Miss Philippa's brow. He wished to smooth it away. "For me, being like my mother would be the highest of all compliments, yet I don't think I measure up. I have part of my father in me too, although I hope it's not the worst part."

"I have seen nothing of your father in you."

"Have you ever met him?"

Michael took a moment to reflect. "I've seen him, but I don't think I've ever been introduced. What I know is solely based on his reputation, and you are nothing like I would expect based on that knowledge."

"Then it would be wrong of me to set you against Lady Christina based on my interaction with her mother."

Michael nodded, and they danced the next few steps in silence. "As for my end of the bargain, I am also at a loss. It seems most men are something of a scoundrel or they are boorish. I can't see you married to anyone as supercilious as Mr. Newcomb. Although I can find no other faults."

"Please do not make me laugh, too. There are too many eyes on us."

"I didn't mean to make you laugh. I am not sure why you find the lack of integrous men humorous."

"I don't know how to explain."

Michael wished she could. There was nothing in his peers' conduct he could see to laugh about. How his sisters found such good matches was surprising. Richard always placed the blame on conniving women, but had he taken an honest look at his own peers?

They stepped closer together.

"You are frowning. Is something wrong?"

Endeavoring to smile, Michael answered, "Nothing really."

"Then pretend to not be upset."

He needed to change the subject. "I haven't received your reply to the invitation to the theater."

Those gray eyes widened. "We have received no invitation."

"You did not? I thought I—" Michael tried to recall asking his mother to send the invitation and could not. "Oh, I may have neglected—a week from yesterday. I know I was going to ask Mother?—"

"As far as I know, our schedule is open. Is your mother here?"

"No. But Deborah and Edward were going to attend, although I haven't seen them tonight either. If you could ask Deborah—" Michael lost his thoughts when she looked up at him. "That is terribly wrong of me, isn't it?"

"It is very perplexing." Her face didn't show any anger, but he couldn't be sure.

What a muddle he'd made. Dancing the wrong dance, forgetting the invitation. And according to Edward, Deborah, and Richard, his agreement with Miss Philippa was daft. The music ended, saving him from any more faux pas for the evening. Michael returned her to her aunt and made his escape. He must find his sister before he forgot about the theater again.