Chapter Two #3
Color surged up to her cheeks. Had no one ever called her pretty before?
He began to feel a strong liking for this strange little thing, and tried to chide himself for it, unsuccessfully.
He was usually so good at not allowing his feelings to engage, but somehow, when their eyes had met across the room, he’d sensed a fellow feeling.
Did she consider herself an outsider here, just as he did?
They parted and she went off to tread on some other gentlemen’s feet for a short while.
When they came back together he bestowed on her his most charming of smiles, determined, now, to draw her out of herself.
“You should not hide yourself away behind your Amazonian cousin and her mother, you know. A girl as pretty as you should be full of confidence and out on the dance floor with all the young gentlemen.”
She raised her eyes and for a moment that intense ferocity was back. “Pray do not tease me so, sir. I know you do not speak the truth.” And with the ferocity came a flash of fire that seared through her, making her just for that instant into the most beautiful girl in the ballroom.
For a moment, Gabriel was speechless. Not from her accusation that he was lying, but from the way it had transformed her. And just as quickly she was back to being a mouse.
The dance moved on, leaving him more than puzzled by the conundrum he’d asked to dance.
He tried again. It wasn’t like him to be lost for words, but something about this odd mix of shyness and ferocity had him intrigued.
“I know your cousin, Toby Hughenden, well, as we were at school together, although he’s four years my junior.
I don’t, however, have the pleasure of having been introduced to your other cousin, Miss Matilda Nicholson. ”
Phoebe pursed her lips as she moved away from him in the dance and he had to wait until she returned. “My cousin Matilda is my greatest friend and my dear cousin.”
How odd that was. A somewhat defensive declaration, and yet, he wasn’t sure she was telling him the truth. It sounded more as though she were reciting a catechism learned off by heart. Or perhaps her cousin was her only friend. That seemed more likely.
“How pleasant, then, for you to be able to attend balls with Miss Nicholson.”
She nodded. “It is most convenient.” But again, he had the impression this wasn’t quite true.
Perhaps she’d rather attend all by herself.
After all, the statuesque and beautiful Miss Nicholson would not be someone he’d advise any young lady to stand beside for fear of unfavorable comparison.
Not that he himself was stirred by young ladies of Miss Nicholson’s dimensions, despite his own height.
He frowned, puzzled for a moment before realization dawned, and with it the uncomfortable sensation that he was being obtuse tonight when he couldn’t afford to be.
Of course, it was Lady Phoebe, but her cousin was only a miss because her father had died before he could inherit the earldom.
He’d only ever gone by the courtesy title of Viscount Brockwood.
Whereas Phoebe’s father, although also deceased, had been earl for, what was it?
Fifteen years. And on top of that she had a sizeable inheritance to come to her—presumably on her marriage.
Might Lady Brockwood, and her overly tall daughter, possibly be a little jealous of Phoebe’s title and inheritance? And might Phoebe be aware of it?
He favored her with another of his most charming smiles, something more than a few women had told him he possessed. “And do you like it in Town? Is it how you expected it to be?”
She pursed her lips again before answering. “It is indeed much as I expected to find it.” She managed to sound unimpressed. No doubt she’d not had high hopes of London.
He’d ask her anyway. “But do you like the balls?”
But now they danced away from one another, and he had to wait for her reply.
When they were back together again, she looked him in the eye, a challenge in her own.
“No, I do not like them, and nor do I care for London itself.” She kept her voice lower, no doubt not wishing to be overheard by the other dancers, but there was determination in it.
At least she was being honest. Quite refreshing to find a young lady who could be.
And more than that, someone who might just feel the same way about the social whirl of the Season as he did.
However… “Most young ladies very much look forward to their debut and attending all the social events of the Season.”
“Not this one.” Just for an instant a touch of irony tinged her tone. “You must, after all, have noticed that I cannot dance. That I was, in fact, born with the proverbial two left feet.”
He smiled. “It would be ungentlemanly of me to agree with you.”
“Just as it is unladylike to trample on the feet of the gentleman who partners one.”
“Shall we dispense with that formality? And I shall say I don’t mind being trampled on, but rather that I find your honesty refreshing?”
The becoming blush was back. “And now you are back to teasing me.”
He smiled again. “But I’m not. I find you a most interesting dance partner, Lady Phoebe. And now, as the dance is ending, perhaps you would care to promenade about the room on my arm. I feel my feet could stand up to that.”
And there it was. A twitch of her lips that might, if it were allowed to blossom, become a smile. “That is most kind of you, my lord.” She met his gaze with what looked like a challenge. Yes, there was a lot more to this young lady than met the eye.