Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

L ord Endelton left the house when Alex and Aunt Healand returned. After seeing them settled, Phil entered the study. "Grandfather, have you met Lord Endelton before?"

The earl looked up from the letter he was reading. "We met at the club."

"Why did either of you not say so? Once I introduced you, it was obvious you had a secret. I expected you to burst out laughing at any moment." Phil sank into the settee.

"You did the introductions so beautifully, how could I have interrupted?"

"A balm to my foolish soul." Phil sighed.

"Dramatics. Have you been taking lessons from Rose?"

"No. I suppose I am out of sorts. It has been a very odd day."

"Odd? How?"

"There were many more visitors than usual during our at-home hours. Several of them were my age, whereas usually our visitors are Aunt Healand's friends—or Mr. Newcomb, of course. Each one asked about Alex, and upon learning she was out, abruptly left. The last visitor was Lady Endelton and her daughters, and Lord Endelton. He came to warn me that Alex, or Peggy, had become the latest on dit among the ton."

The earl's bushy gray eyebrows rose almost high enough to touch his outdated powdered wig. "Warn you?"

"Lord Endelton said the talk was speculation, but he seemed worried. It does explain the extra visitors this afternoon."

"Only petty women who were jealous that their ankles are not as finely turned as Alexandra's."

Phil laughed in spite of her mood.

"There is my girl. I hate to see you down, especially when you still have a ball this evening."

"I cannot go. Aunt Healand returned with a headache so there is no one to escort me." There would be no coaxing Alex to go even if the day's events hadn't drained her.

Grandfather straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Are you saying I am no one? I am a peer of the realm. Am I not a suitable escort?"

"You would attend with me?"

"Do you see another damsel in want of an escort?"

"No, but Aunt said you didn't care for the festivities of the Season."

"Not in the least, but I do enjoy seeing surprised looks on people's faces. And what bigger surprise could there be than me escorting my granddaughter to a ball?" He laughed. Though he had never been especially stern during her lifetime, Grandfather was more jovial than he had been during visits of her youth.

Phil toyed with her handkerchief. "That would give the ton something to talk about."

Grandfather chuckled.

Awareness dawned. "You sly old fox, you are hoping they forget Alex."

"For tonight they will, providing you are properly turned out. Is there someone who can do your hair?"

"Green is very proficient."

"Then I shall await her handiwork."

Phil chose the last of her unworn gowns. The hem and bodice were embroidered with dozens of forget-me-nots. She'd saved her favorite dress for last, hoping to wear it for some special beau. Unlike some debutantes, she didn't have a new gown for every ball. However, arriving on grandfather's arm demanded she appear in her best.

They arrived in a short line of carriages. As grandfather predicted, there was a collective gasp when he was announced to the room. While the music didn't stop, for the length of a long breath, the talking did. Mr. Simesson couldn't bow deep enough. Phil worried he might tip over completely.

Mr. Newcomb was the first gentleman to approach her. He took her hand and stopped just short of kissing it. "Miss Philippa, you look delightful this evening."

"I see you have returned."

"Only just."

"Grandfather, may I present Mr. Newcomb? My Grandfather, the Earl of Whitstone."

Mr. Newcomb bowed appropriately. "I understand the third set is to start with a waltz. If it is not already claimed, may I have the pleasure?"

"I thought you did not approve of the waltz and never danced it." Phil could not refuse to dance with him, but she much preferred another set, perhaps one of the country dances.

"There are rare times when I feel it is appropriate." The gleam in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

It seemed her suspicions might be correct, and Mr. Newcomb did intend to declare himself soon. "Yes, you may."

As soon as he left, Grandfather snatched up Phil's dance card. "Put me down for the supper dance, will you? I am of the mind to dance once with the prettiest girl in the room."

Phil wrote his name in with her stubby pencil. Before she crossed the room, every dance was full, and Mr. Newcomb was the only man in the group she'd ever danced with before. Not at any ball had her card filled so quickly. Was it Grandfather or further curiosity about Alex? She wouldn't know until the conversations started. Spotting Lady Godderidge and Isabel, Phil angled toward them. Grandfather greeted Lady Godderidge as an old friend. They had not spoken for long when Lord Endelton appeared.

After greeting everyone in the conversational circle, Lord Endelton addressed Phil. "I wonder if you might have a dance I could claim?"

"I am terribly sorry. My card is full." Phil desperately wished she could erase all the names from her list.

Grandfather cleared his throat loudly. "I had claimed the supper dance for myself, however after watching these youthful dancers, I don't know if I could keep up. Would you mind taking my place, Endelton?"

"It would be my honor." Lord Endelton's smile was the largest she'd ever seen.

Phil bobbed the slightest of curtsies. "I look forward to it."

The first set was announced, and Lord Endelton left.

"I think I shall go to the card room. With your dance card full, I dare say there is little trouble you can find." Grandfather squeezed her hand as he left and her dance partner arrived.

The first set was a lively country dance. Her partner wasn't particularly bad, nor was he good. The conversation wasn't stimulating. Then again, she didn't expect it to be with the number of turns and switches. Was she imagining it or were there more whispers than usual as she passed? Grandfather's appearance caused more of a stir than she expected.

Her partner for the second set was no more remarkable than the first. Although he seemed to be trying to step on the toe of her right foot. At first, she thought it a mistake, but his aim was far too precise. Phil sidestepped enough, other dancers looked at her in askance.

There was a short break after the set for the musicians. Phil took the opportunity to drink a cup of punch and listen to Isabel's latest intrigue.

While Phil listened, a hand grasped her upper arm and spun her around. "Ouch!"

Mr. Newcomb did not release his vice-like grip. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Your sister. Does she only have one leg?" He made no effort to temper his voice.

"Let go of me this instant." Phil squirmed, but his grip was too strong.

Conversations around them ceased.

"Is it true?"

"Please. Unhand. Me." She raised her hand to slap him. As her hand reached his face, Mr. Newcomb fell back. Phil caught nothing but air and had to step quickly to keep from falling over.

"Miss Philippa asked you to let her go." Lord Endelton and the Duke of Aylton stood on either side of Mr. Newcomb.

The man shook them off. "It is true. I see it in your eyes. I made an offer to your father last night. I was willing to overlook your paltry dowry, but I won't be shackled to a lying?—"

"What is the meaning of this?" Grandfather's voice boomed.

The onlookers parted, allowing him a clear path. Mr. Simesson followed behind. Isabel gripped Phil's hand giving her strength.

The duke growled, but it was Lord Endelton who spoke. "This man has forgotten his manners. My cousin and I were about to show him out."

Mr. Simesson spoke. "No need, your Grace, my Lords, I will show him out myself."

Mr. Newcomb shrugged off the men holding him. "It is no matter. No self-respecting man would align himself with you or your crippled sister."

The duke growled again. Two footmen appeared. Mr. Newcomb cursed and left.

Heat flooded Phil's cheeks. She looked for some way to escape, but she was hemmed in on all sides.

The duke stepped forward. "Am I mistaken, or did your dance partner abandon you?"

Phil willed her voice not to shake as every inch of her seemed to be. "He has left, your Grace."

The duke whispered something to Mr. Simesson.

"It would be a shame if I didn't dance at least once. Would you do me the honor?" The duke extended his hand.

Phil couldn't run, neither could she refuse, so she set her hand on his arm as an answer. Conversation resumed around them as he led her to the floor. The musicians quickly tuned their instruments. The caller announced the minuet.

The man behind them complained loudly. "I thought it was to be a waltz."

Other voices echoed his sentiment, but no one left the floor.

"Keep your chin high."

"Why?" Phil whispered the word as the dance started. "Why rescue me?"

"Because you have proven yourself these past several weeks. You have integrity. Which is more than I can say for most women."

"But he said I lied." Anything with the intent to deceive was a lie. Mother had taught them that.

"You didn't, did you? Not once did you ever claim your sister was hale and healthy to him."

"No, but we?—"

"Attended functions?"

She waited until the forms of the dance brought them closer together to speak. "Yes."

"To which you were invited?"

"Yes."

"Did anyone ever ask you about your sister's cane?"

"No." They stood face to face, much too close for a dance given out of pity. Phil wished to step away, but she would never embarrass her rescuer.

"If a man offered for your sister, would she have—" the duke didn't finish the question.

"Of course."

"Then you have proven my point. Which means you are worthy of this dance. It will not stop the tongues from wagging. But for tonight, it will keep you from being cut. I only wish I could do more."

"It is more than I ever expected, your Grace." A dance with Duke Aylton would have every person talking. "You asked the dance to be changed, didn't you?"

"Clever girl." His tone carried no hint of condescension.

For the first time, Phil perceived the duke was not as imposing as she had first believed. She dared to answer him back. "Wise man."

The music came to a close. The duke bowed at the end before escorting her back to Lady Godderidge and her grandfather.

"Whitstone, you have lovely granddaughters." Laying particular emphasis on the plural, the duke's pronouncement was loud enough for all nearby to hear. "I am done with dancing. Would you join me in a game of cards?"

The men walked off leaving Phil with Lady Godderidge.

"Oh, Philippa, your mother would be proud of you."

Phil looked at the crowd who all seemed to be studying her and wondered if the Lady could be wrong.

The supper dance was a quadrille, affording almost no conversation with one's partner if one was to follow all of the intricate steps. Michael assumed the hostess had designed it so the dance partners could talk while dining. How much longer would he have to wait to tell Philippa she was his choice? If only Deborah hadn't cautioned him against his usual way of declaring what was on his mind, Michael would have made his feelings known in the park. He wished his sister was in attendance, but she begged off of the festivities at the last moment, claiming she was ill.

All he could do was offer a smile each time he met Philippa after a turn. Thankfully, she returned his smile. The exercise and the lights of the chandelier intensified the sparkle of her eyes. When they married, he would make sure to look at her often under the chandelier in the ballroom of Terrace Hall. Would it be in the budget to have so many candles? Perhaps the chandelier could be converted to gas and burn long and evenly. Preposterous. Gas lights would endanger the entire household. Michael shook his thoughts away as the music ended. At last, he would have a word with her.

"The Simessons hired excellent musicians, don't you agree?"

"Yes." All about him people pressed too close for a private conversation.

"I don't see the duchess, do you think she left with your cousin?"

"His Grace came with me. I believe the duchess is at the theater."

"Will she be annoyed to learn he danced with me? People are saying he hasn't danced with anyone since opening his own ball at the beginning of the Season."

There were still far too many ears listening to them talk. "That would be the duke's affair."

"Yes, yes, of course." Philippa fell silent as they proceeded to the tables remarking on the food as if they hadn't eaten in weeks. Or as if they had never eaten at a ball before. With as many conversations as he could hear, it would be unwise to say something of a personal nature during the meal.

"It was lovely to see Moriah today. Does she often accompany your mother on calls?"

"I couldn't say." When he asked Deborah to call with him on Lady Healand, he'd hardly expected the entire family to join him, making the visit more awkward.

Philippa paused eating, her fork suspended over her plate. "Are you sure all is well?"

"Yes. I should ask you the same."

"If you are referring to the moments leading to my unexpected waltz-turned-minuet partner, I do not know. Such an odd turn of events. Father will not be pleased."

"What will he do?"

"I don't know. The loss of Mr. Newcomb's fortune will be a huge blow."

"Were you going to accept him?"

She kept her voice low. "No. You were right. I couldn't live with the man, no matter how much it would please my Father."

Warmth filled Michael's chest. Perhaps there was a chance for him.

"What about you? Your supper dance was wasted on me. Have you had an opportunity to dance with the woman who enticed you to abandon your list?"

"Yes." He answered truthfully.

"If I was not a very good friend, I'd inquire after your dance partners. I'm afraid I didn't notice your dances at all."

"You didn't?"

"The first set, I was too busy protecting my toes. I'm quite sure he was trying to step on them."

Michael laughed more at her expression than the words.

"The second set, I was far too conscious of people whispering and looking in my direction. The third, which should have included a waltz—I'm grateful your cousin changed it to a minuet—I was much too preoccupied. I assume you danced with her during the third, since you, like every other gentleman, was hoping for a waltz."

"She danced with someone else."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"I am not."

"Well, since it was a minuet, I suppose you were the other person in the room not disappointed. You must thank the duke for me. I had thought him rather austere, but he is very kind. He kept me from receiving the cut direct by everyone in attendance."

"He is the best of cousins. I am sure he is happy he could be of service. I did warn you about Newcomb." Michael finished the last bite of his food.

"I hope the duchess isn't put out. I suppose I'll remain a subject of talk for a few days, but it won't all be Newcomb's rejection."

"The duchess is likely to laugh over it." At Richard's expense. Under the table, Michael clenched his fist. Richard had performed more than one kindness that evening. It was he who overheard Newcomb in the cardroom as the man's fury had grown. If Richard had not followed him to the floor and motioned for Michael to join him, they would not have been in a position to rescue Philippa.

"Thank you also for your part in removing Newcomb."

Michael's gaze fell to her arm, there was a faint purpling above her glove. He traced it with his index finger. She shivered. Michael pulled back his hand. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Not you."

"I want to call him out."

"Don't. Please. There is already enough talk. And it would ruin your chances with whomever she is."

Around them people stood and returned to the ballroom.

Michael stood and assisted Philippa to rise. "I danced the supper dance with her."

Philippa turned to him, eyes wide. "Me?"

A fullness in his throat prevented him from answering, so he nodded his head.

She looked everywhere but at him before whispering, "But you can't."

"Why not?"

"The list, the duke, my father…"

"Gone, approves, doesn't matter."

They walked toward the ballroom where they must separate for the next dance. With only seconds left before someone came to claim her for the next set, the question he'd wanted to ask all night rushed out of his mouth. "May I come call on you tomorrow?" The words, even to his own ears, sounded much more like "May I chew on marrow?"

Philippa blinked a couple of times before smiling. "Of course."

"At two?"

"Please."

The Earl of Whitstone stood near the ballroom door. Philippa stopped to speak with him. Unsure if he should stay or leave, he nodded to the earl and walked on. Minutes later, he noticed the earl leaving the ball with Philippa. Michael cursed himself for not lingering so he could have told her goodbye.