Chapter 17

Seventeen

D espite her best efforts, the tiny sniffle Phil awoke with refused to turn into a full-blown cold. She would have to attend the theater tonight. If she were very lucky, Lord Endelton would find a reason not to be there. She didn't want to converse with him, knowing he would inquire about Mr. Newcomb, and she would have to concede his correctness in the man's assessment. Not only was Mr. Newcomb supercilious, but he was also terribly boring, as she discovered on their first ride through Hyde Park. However, Mr. Newcomb seemed interested in her. And even without a title, his money should be more than enough to make Father happy.

Green finished with Alex's hair. The new arrangement was quite becoming.

Phil waited to take her turn in front of the mirror. "If I was not your sister, I would be quite jealous. You are truly one of the most beautiful women of the Season."

"Oh Phil, you exaggerate far too much. By the time Green is finished with your hair, there will be very little competition. But I am glad you think I look well; I've been quite nervous about sitting in the Duke of Aylton's box."

"Why? I doubt the duke will be there."

"Just being in his box will get us noticed. Everyone will look at us."

Phil hadn't thought about everyone looking at them. She'd been so busy figuring out how to avoid Lord Endelton she hadn't thought about the other repercussions of the evening. Drat it all. Alex was correct. "Being seen sitting in one of the most distinguished boxes in the theater will have people at least curious and could benefit our social standing. If our father's reputation irrevocably damaged us, the duke would've never allowed us near his box."

"True. It is a great service Lord Endelton has provided. I hope you can lay aside your anger towards him to thank him properly."

Phil wasn't exactly angry with him. He'd jumped to conclusions as fast as a rabbit leaping away from the gardener. Though she should have told him about Lady Christina's rumor about Peggy's existence. "Why don't you thank him?"

"Because both of us should. It isn't his fault your helping each other didn't work out. It was doomed from the start. Surely you saw that."

"Of course I did, but what was I to say? I'd discovered I'd been labeled as persona non grata , and you were also struck from the list. I couldn't very well tell him he was an idiot."

"Did you think he was an idiot at the time? I thought you thought he was being kind."

Phil thought back to the moments in the library. He had been in earnest, and he clearly hadn't meant to hurt her. In fact, he'd seemed completely unaware her unsuitability as a potential wife was anything but a well-known fact. There had been a genuine sincerity behind his offer. She'd known it was folly and told him as much, but as her host, she had hardly been able to argue. "You know how much he reminded me of our William? I am more upset at myself than him. I should've never been alone in the library with him in the first place."

Green tugged on Phil's hair harder than necessary. "That is why young ladies are to have chaperones. They keep you out of all sorts of trouble."

A knock on the door stopped the conversation. Aunt Healand walked in without waiting for them to answer. "Good, you're almost ready. Lord Endelton's carriage will be here any minute."

Phil turned from side to side to study the maid's handiwork. "Green, how come you never dressed our hair like this at home? I had no idea you had such a talent for it."

"At home, there is no one to see you. Would you have me style it thus for an errand to one of the tenant cottages or to help Miss Georgiana in the garden?"

Green's reply sent Alex into a fit of laughter.

Phil studied her sister. "Are you in pain tonight?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You've been laughing quite a bit. And I know the more you laugh, the more you're using it to hide your pain."

Alex threw up her hands. "With a sister like you, who needs a doctor? My hip hurts a bit. But it's nothing bad. The image of you working around the house with curls and pearl pins in your hair struck me as funny. Imagine what hair styles Rose would demand."

Green narrowed her eyes at Alex. "There isn't time for any of my tea, miss. I will have it ready for your return."

"Thank you, Green. You are far too good to me." Alex tugged on her long gloves.

"Come girls. We do not wish to keep Lord Endelton waiting." Aunt Healand rushed them out of the house.

The theater was as grand as Phil expected, and more so. At her elbow, Moriah could barely contain her raptures. They wound through the crowd, greeting people, and making and receiving introductions. The grand staircase had wide, even steps. Alex had no trouble navigating them, barely leaning on Phil's arm at all. The box itself was as Phil dreaded. The amazing view of the stage placed them in the perfect spot to be seen by absolutely everyone.

Moriah pointed to a seat near the front of the box. Phil followed, with Alex a step behind. Though lit, the area around their feet was still dim. A familiar and unwelcome thump sounded in the large box. Phil schooled her face to not wince for her sister. Peggy must have connected with one of the chair legs. There was nothing to be done for now but to pretend nothing happened.

Reflections of single-lens opera glasses flashed as Phil took her seat. Apparently, the popular accessory was used for more than watching the play. Aunt Healand had loaned a pair to each of them. Phil was overcome with a desire to pull hers out and peer back at the audience members in the other boxes.

Alex's hand atop hers stopped her. "You have time to look later. Ignore them for now."

Phil turned her attention to Moriah. "What do you think?"

"Isn't it splendid? So many fashionable people. Do you think the Prince will attend?"

"This isn't an opening night. He has most likely seen the play."

Moriah's face fell for a moment. She turned to look behind her. "Cousin Richard came with his wife."

As had Lieutenant Godderidge and his wife Deborah. The addition brought their number to ten, making the box quite full. The duchess moved to the front seats and signaled Moriah to join her. The duke stayed near the back, talking with Lord Endelton.

Alex leaned closer. "I'm afraid Peggy is damaged."

"Can you walk?"

"I think so, but she seems to be cracked on the shin." Alex tugged at her skirt above her right knee.

"Are you hurt?"

The crowd quieted as the curtain rose.

"No," whispered her sister.

Antonio entered the stage with his companions. "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad." And The Merchant of Venice began.

Phil was glad to be acquainted with the play. Aunt Healand told them of sitting through an entire German opera having no idea what the plot was about.

During the second act, Phil surreptitiously looked at the other audience members. Only a few seemed to be intent upon the box in which she sat; among them were Lady Christina and her mother, and Miss Simesson and her mother. It was difficult to see the expressions on their faces, yet something in them caused Phil to lower her opera glasses and wish to scoot back into the shadows.

Intermission came all too soon. Michael blinked at his surroundings. He should come to the theater more often. It was a most enjoyable pastime.

Beside him, Richard grumbled. "I detest intermission."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Moriah joined them and spontaneously hugged Richard. "Thank you, cousin. This is the most remarkable evening of my life."

Richard's expression softened. "What has been your favorite part?"

"I like the actor who plays Shylock. Although the duchess says he is not nearly as fun at parties as his understudy. Does the duchess always talk so much in the theater? I can see for myself who is wearing the finest silks."

"Perhaps for the last half, you should move next to the Lightwood sisters or your mother and Lady Healand; they seem to enjoy the play much more." Richard's answer didn't satisfy the question. Meaning it was a polite thing people often said.

The first of several guests arrived at the door of the box. The first two men seemed surprised to see the duke and left quickly. Michael wished he could say the same for Mr. Newcomb, who took up a spot next to Miss Philippa and gave his own monologue critique of the play. For her part, Miss Philippa appeared not to mind at all.

Michael glanced again at Mr. Newcomb. He thought he understood his cousin's dislike of intermission. The last two acts passed without Michael's notice. He couldn't figure out why it should bother him Miss Philippa had found a suitor.

Another man entered the box speaking to no one in particular. "I intend to speak to my duchess."

The man stepped into the light. Mr. Duncan Kenworth possessed more gall than brains to appear in his half-brother's box when said half-brother was in attendance.

Richard's glower grew and his hands balled into fists. "Endelton, you had best distract me."

"Can you not tell him to leave?"

"He wants a fight," Richard spoke through a clenched jaw. "I will not give it in such a public place."

Edward joined them standing between Richard and his base-born half-brother. "My wife is enjoying herself immensely. Thank you for including us."

They chatted until the signal was given to end intermission. Mr. Newcomb left the box with a nod of his head to Michael. Mr. Kenworth left with a sneer.

Michael sat through the rest of the play, regretting they contained intermissions.

On the ride home, Moriah kept them all entertained recounting the evening, hardly allowing anyone else to speak. Miss Philippa encouraged his sister by asking questions, the answers of which she must have known.

"Are you courting Mr. Newcomb?"

"Moriah!" Michael's response matched his mother's.

Miss Philippa smiled good-naturedly. "I've only known him for a fortnight."

His sister continued, heedless of her impertinence. "But he came to see you in the box and mentioned he took you to Hyde Park. Men only take women for a drive to tell other men they are claiming someone as their own."

This time Miss Lightwood laughed. "I've never heard of it that way."

Mother had a firm grip on Moriah's arm, but his sister shook her off. "Everyone knows men do it to warn the competition."

"In my case, he has had no contenders to warn." Miss Philippa's admonition wasn't in her usual voice. Michael wished the carriage was better lit so he could see if she was frowning. There should be lines of men calling upon her. She was the nicest woman he'd met, and those eyes…

"Moriah, that is quite enough." The frustration in mother's voice was easier to discern.

Silence filled the coach.

They turned into Russell Square and stopped in front of Lady Healand's. Michael climbed down first and assisted the women.

First, Lady Healand. "Thank you for the wonderful evening."

Miss Lightwood handed Michael her cane before stepping down. Miss Philippa hovered behind as usual. Michael helped Miss Lightwood to the door. Surprisingly, Miss Philippa waited for him before descending.

"I see you've learned to wait."

"Falling on my face in the street doesn't make a good impression on people I meet." She smiled, but in the light of the streetlamp, he thought he saw a tear on her cheek.

"Are you alright?" Michael reached for the tear. It came off on his gloved finger.

Miss Philippa shook her head and hurried to the townhouse.

Michael waited until the butler closed the door before climbing back into the carriage and sitting across from his mother and Moriah who had traded seats to the front facing ones. His sister sat as far into the corner as she could on the seat with her arms crossed. Mother wore the exasperated expression she'd worn all too often when he was younger.

The ride home was painfully silent. As soon as they were in the door, Mother ordered tea and retired to her room.

Moriah hung back and followed Michael to his study. "Mum says I need to apologize to Miss Philippa."

Michael gestured to a seat. "Even I know better than to ask if someone is being courted in front of others."

"But you are her friend and have no intention of courting her."

"That doesn't signify."

"Yes, it does. Talk among friends is always different from in public."

All the rules his mother and older sisters drilled into him needed to be taught to Moriah, but he wasn't the one to educate her. "Friends also don't injure friends."

"I didn't hurt her."

He debated a moment before speaking. "Miss Philippa was crying when I helped her out of the carriage."

"Is that why you touched her cheek?"

Michael buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Should I go up to bed?" Moriah's voice was tiny.

Michael dropped his arms and stepped closer to his sister. "Mori-ha-ha," he used her childhood name. "You are the best little sister. I love you." He held her for a long moment. He hadn't hugged her in ages. A funny lump formed in his throat, and he stepped back. "Now go to bed. And write an apology to Miss Philippa."