Chapter Seven #3
Phoebe folded her arms. “She can try to force me into marriage, but I won’t do it unless I’m sure of three things.
Firstly that I’m not being married for my money, secondly that he loves me, and thirdly that I love him.
Or maybe the last two the other way around.
” It came to her in a sudden rush of realization that she would marry Gabriel even if he didn’t love her.
Did that mean she was in love? With the Mayfair Highwayman himself?
If Mattie even suspected this she would be astonished.
She pressed her lips together for fear she might be tempted to reveal all.
Mattie shrugged. “In an ideal world.”
Still thinking of Gabriel, Phoebe scowled. “Since when did you become such a cynic? I believe in true love, even if you don’t.”
Mattie scowled back. “Of course I believe in true love. And I want the same as you, but suppose one never finds a gentleman to love? Should we take second best? A man who loves us but whom we don’t love?
I worry about that, you know. And I do think about the merits of marrying for a prestigious title and a large estate and a huge house in Town.
Those sorts of things can be very alluring and might well make up for a certain lack of love.
” Her face had taken on a pensive expression as if she were thinking of someone in particular who fulfilled these requirements.
Phoebe’s curiosity was aroused. “Did none of the gentlemen you danced with last night stir anything in your heart?” She was thinking of Gabriel again, of course, who certainly seemed to have stirred something in her.
She felt as though he’d invaded her every thought.
Not that she was going to tell Mattie. However, he more than likely came under the heading of gentlemen interested in her for her money.
If the remote possibility of him liking her still existed after what she’d done to him.
So, probably not. Last night’s adventure, or should it be this morning’s, had already retreated into the realms of a confused dream.
Perhaps she’d better leave it there and resign herself to never seeing Gabriel again other than across a dance floor.
Mattie, who clearly had been paying scant attention to Phoebe’s mix of expressions, had herself taken on a thoughtful look, her hand to her chin and her gaze faraway.
“Well…there were one or two who were quite handsome…” Her voice trailed off and she uttered a little sigh.
“And one in particular who is both rich and important.”
“So someone did stir your heart?”
Mattie shook her head. “None of them did that. What they stirred was my desire to have them dance attendance on me and make the other young ladies, and their ambitious mamas, jealous of me. I know I’m the prettiest girl of the Season.
More than one of my dance partners told me that, and I’m bound to be very popular.
So nothing would please me more than to be the belle of every ball we attend.
That would be what I call fun. I certainly don’t intend to settle for the first gentleman who offers for me.
” She paused. “Not unless he’s at least a duke… ”
Had there been a duke who’d asked her to dance last night? Phoebe’s curiosity deepened.
However, she was well used to her cousin’s lack of modesty, so this statement bothered her little.
And besides which, it was quite true. Mattie was far and away the most beautiful debutante of the Season, and yes, gentlemen would flock to her like bees around a scented flower. They certainly had done last night.
Mattie returned from her reverie to the present and fixed mildly accusing eyes on Phoebe.
“But what about you? Was there not someone that brought color to your cheeks by his words? Who made your heart skip a beat? I know you’re not the sort of young lady men will run after, but I should tell you that I spied a certain gentleman watching you as you danced with each unfortunate. He seemed very taken with you.”
Phoebe’s heart skipped an unruly beat. Could it be? Might he have feelings for her after all? Although that must have been before she hit him with the cricket bat, of course. Which might well have changed his mind.
Her face might have given something away, because Mattie crowed with delight. “So you do have a fancy for a particular gentleman! I knew it. You are such a fibber, Phoebe Nicholson. Do you want to know who it was gazing at you like that? Do you?”
Heat suffusing her cheeks, Phoebe nodded. She hardly dared to breathe.
Her face wreathed in triumph, Mattie cleared her throat. “It was Viscount Evesham, the Earl of Mandeville’s only son. He would be a triumph indeed for you to snare.”
What?
Phoebe had not forgotten this gentleman’s cold dark eyes and the calculating way in which he’d looked at her. He might be handsome and the heir to an earldom, but he held no attraction whatsoever for her.
Mattie, most likely misinterpreting Phoebe’s stunned silence, chuckled with satisfaction.
“Marrying him would make you a countess one day. Because his father is an earl, just like Grandpapa was and Uncle Robert is now. A countess, no less. That would be a splendid match.” She paused. “Nearly as good as becoming a duchess.”
The heat had ebbed from Phoebe’s cheeks and she could feel her lower lip wobbling. She must not cry. That would be such a silly thing to do. Instead, she mustered a false smile. “My goodness. A countess. Who would have thought?”