Chapter 20

Twenty

D ry clothing. Phil breathed in the lavender scent Green added when laundering their clothes. Ever so much nicer than the essence-of-wine sauce she'd worn all evening. The sauce had been delightful, but smelling it for hours caused her to consider how a roast pig might feel.

Alex sat on the bed, rubbing lotion onto her stump. "I was surprised to see you return to the party with Lord Endelton. How did that come about?"

Phil was glad her sister had waited until they were alone to inquire about her entrance into the parlor. "I'm not entirely sure. He was leaving when I came down the stairs after trying to clean my dress. We had a conversation, and he stayed."

"I noticed he talked to you more than to any other lady there."

"How could you have noticed anything? Anytime I looked over, you were in conversation with somebody, usually Sir Rothy."

"He was rather attentive, wasn't he?"

"What is your first opinion of him?"

"He is rather desperate for a wife. I don't know. It entirely put him off when he noticed my cane. We shall have to see if he calls tomorrow. Now, about you and Lord Endelton."

"There's so little to discuss. I hoped he would be a good match for you. But he is determined neither of us will suit simply because of Father. Our friendship has only grown, which is creating difficulties as he doesn't understand it is not possible to cultivate friendships with the opposite sex at our age and still court others."

"Your feelings are deepening for him."

"I wish he would stay away. I tell myself it is only because he reminds me of William. But as much as I try to see him?—"

"Lord Endelton is not our brother. "

"However, it is the only kind of relationship I can have with him."

"He asked about you at dinner."

Phil spun on her sister. "You are not helping matters. Tales of forbidden love never work out well, anyway."

"Romeo and Juliet?"

"Is a tragedy, not a romance. And it is not like he is forbidden to me. I am not good enough to be on his list."

"You could change his mind."

Tears stung Phil's eyes. She blinked them back. "The subject is closed, Alex. Even if I find him to be one of the most kind and fascinating men I've ever met, it will do me no good. The less time I spend in his presence, the better."

"You said the same after we went to the theater. Which is why I was so surprised you came in with him."

"Please, enough."

"Then what of Mr. Newcomb? You didn't tell me about your ride this afternoon."

Phil always wanted what she couldn't have. When she was younger, she wished to wear trousers like the gardeners. Then she wished to finish her education. And now she wanted for her sister to have a good match as well as her. What she was going to get was Mr. Newcomb.

Alex tugged on Phil's sleeve. She waited for an answer.

Phil searched her mind for something of interest other than their near-collision with Lord Endelton.

"Mr. Newcomb asked if Father was coming to town."

"When did this happen?"

Phil sank onto the bed. "As we returned home. Do you think it is better I send him to Father or ask Father to come to town?"

"Do you mean to accept him, then?"

"I don't see as if I have a choice. He has to be better than whoever Father chooses." Lord Endelton had been correct when he called the man supercilious. Phil did not look forward to long nights in the parlor hearing Mr. Newcomb expound on anything and everything scriptural. He'd missed his calling; he should have been a vicar. Fortunately, most wives could spend most of the day far from their husbands. And after children came, she would spend as much time with them as possible.

"You won't be happy with him. I saw you before you left today. You wore the same look you do whenever you had to haggle with the butcher and Father has yet to pay the bill."

"I will have a roof over my head and more pin money than I know what to do with. I shall be able to travel and see you. Mr. Newcomb has been clear on that point. I can visit you whenever I want."

"May I visit you?" asked Alex.

"Mr. Newcomb said he wasn't fond of visitors. But he didn't forbid them."

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Come in," called Alex.

Their aunt entered the room. "My father arrived. I can't imagine what brought him at this hour. He asked to see both of you in the morning. I trust you will be up for breakfast at an appropriate hour?"

"Of course." They answered in unison.

"Good night." Aunt Healand nodded as if distracted and left the room.

Alex pushed a cork back into the bottle of lotion. "They must have moved up a vote. I didn't think Grandfather intended to come until nearer the end of the session."

"I wonder what brought him to town." Phil had the uncomfortable feeling Grandfather's arrival had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with them.

After the Godderidge's party, Michael didn't go directly home. His mind was working too fast to rest. He walked several turns around the small park in the center of Grosvenor Square. Deborah whispered in his ear before he left, saying Miss Burke would not be a good choice. Michael had been grateful for a collaborative opinion for something he felt, but wasn't sure about. After all, Miss Burke seemed much like all the other debutantes. None of which had seemed right. The only enjoyable moments of the evening had been those spent with Miss Philippa. Had Richard struck her from his list in too much haste? Her father couldn't damage his reputation that much, could he?

That was the puzzle. Sir Lightwood didn't wield any political power and there were other men whose reputations equaled Philippa's father's, yet they moved about society with ease. Richard's father had been among them. The former duke went so far as to recognize his mistresses' son, Mr. Kenworth, as his own in the weeks before his death. The duchess' father forced Richard to marry, largely because of his father's reputation. One which Richard didn't follow in the least.

Picking up his pace, Michael contemplated other men of the peerage whose reputations were far from stellar. One only had to look as far as the Prince Regent for an example of someone who still held political power despite his own affairs. The only thing keeping him in his place was his birth and title. A viscount was nothing like a prince, but wouldn't his own reputation and title do more for him than the reputation of a father-in-law could hurt?

Turning off of the square, he continued his walk, passing others who were returning home from entertainments. Soon, he found himself at Russell Square across from Lady Healand's home. Lights still lit the upper windows.

A crested carriage was parked in front of her door. Michael drew closer until he could make out the letters and crest. Whitstone. Richard claimed the old earl rarely came to debate in the House of Lords and there wasn't a vote for at least another fortnight.

A few houses down, a door opened, and several people exited—among them, Miss Simesson and her mother. Michael stepped out of the lamplight. He didn't have a suitable answer for what brought him to this area of London and didn't wish to be quizzed. He waited for the carriages to leave before retracing his steps to his own home.

Sleep didn't come easy as every time he closed his eyes, he saw Philippa's. One of his last thoughts was to remind himself he had no right to drop the ‘Miss' when referring to her, even in his dreams.