Chapter Six #2
That was the only thing he did not hide. Perhaps it was so much a part of him he had forgotten about it, an affliction normalised by the length of its existence.
‘You are quiet.’ His eyebrows were raised.
‘I was trying to decide who you are, my lord, underneath the disguise.’
‘Do people have to be something different, Mrs St Claire?’
‘To my knowledge they almost always are. Take Miss Annabelle, for instance. She is beautiful and clever but she is also frightened. Of time perhaps and its passing.’
‘And what of you? What is it that you conceal?’
‘Oh, a thousand things like everybody else probably. My disappointments are no surprise as I have already told you some of those.’
‘Your husband?’
Willa hated the anger that she felt at his question. He could not know just what she had lost. No one ever would.
But a public ball was no place for such private anguish and so with intent she looked about her, finding something else entirely different to say.
‘I had imagined your brother and his wife would have been here tonight celebrating with Esther’s aunt and uncle.’
‘Their eldest son broke his arm and has been sick with an infection, so they have remained at Nettleford Park. He is regaining his health, though, from the latest reports.’
‘Do you visit them there? It is not such a far distance.’
‘I have but…’ He stopped and frowned and then began again. ‘You spoke of different paths in life. Well, Oliver has found his own way and he is happy.’
She knew exactly what he meant.
‘And now you have to have the space to find yours?’
‘People believe you have an uncanny knack of saying just the right thing, Mrs St Claire. It seems you cultivate much respect in a city not known for its empathy towards others.’
‘Oh, that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, Lord Elmsworth.’
‘Then you take it as a truth?’
‘No, I take it as a compliment.’
They were quiet then, feeling the rhythm of their movements, and Willa decided that she had been a little harsh in her criticism of his style of dancing.
Tonight the steps were easier, their bodies moving as one.
She wished they might stay this way forever, in costumes that allowed them some covering from others and from themselves.
He smelt of soap and there was some other scent there that was hard to discern. Camphor perhaps, from the old clothes he wore. She liked that he was not the same as other men she knew who lathered themselves in heavy perfumes and potent girlish creams.
It was strange, for she had known the Earl for such a short time and yet she felt she knew him better than Lionel, whom she’d had to endure for years.
There was sadness, too. If only she had found a man like Phillip Moreland when she was young.
A man she liked to listen to and whom she enjoyed talking with.
An interesting man who obviously read widely and was worldly wise.
Her hand tightened on his and he looked down.
‘Sorry.’ She loosened her grip and he smiled.
‘Usually I hate dancing, but with you it is easier. Did you come to London much during your marriage?’
‘Oh, hardly ever. Though I’ve told you already that I saw you once a long time ago at the Merryweather ball. I saw your wife briefly, too, and she was very beautiful.’
‘Gretel and I married young and sometimes I think that was a…’ He stopped himself but she knew what he was going to say.
A mistake.
Breathing in, she wondered if he might go on but he did not and the gold in his wedding ring on his left hand glinted under the light of the chandeliers.
Shutting her eyes, she banished all introspection.
Just enjoy now, she thought, now in his arms, their fingers entwined, the feel of him against her, strong and tall.
She could not remember a time when she had ever felt so safe.
When the music ended they threaded their way through the crowd.
The Earl of Hammond joined them as they stood to one side of the room, his sister still in tow. Benjamin Harcourt was near by dressed as a Roman god and on seeing Phillip came straight over, his face swathed in a smile.
‘It is so good to have you back in England, Phillip.’ He looked next at Wilhelmina and tipped his head. ‘Mrs St Claire, it is lovely to see you, too. Phillip and I were friends at Eton and in the holidays he often came back to my family estate in Richmond to stay.’
‘And some of those holidays were the best times of my life, Ben. How are your parents?’
Ben’s smile faded. ‘Both dead, I am afraid. Papa of a heart attack and mama from sadness a few months later.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘No, don’t be. It is better that way as they are together.’ He pointed to the ceiling. ‘Up there, I imagine, and still laughing.’
‘And your sister?’
‘Married a laird from outside Glasgow and now has four rambunctious red-haired children whom we see often.’
‘A good life, then.’ Phillip had always enjoyed the dynamics of the Harcourt family with humour evident and love paramount. So unlike his own life.
‘You must visit us in Richmond. I am married now and we have two small children.’
Life had moved on for everyone, not just for Oliver.
‘Perhaps you could come as well, Mrs St Claire. Sarah, my wife, has often spoken of you, though she was unable to be here tonight.’
‘Sarah Harcourt?’ Wilhelmina sounded intrigued. ‘Oh, I would like that, for your wife has visited my house a few times to join in the discussions and she was always interesting.’
‘She does have a mind of her own but I’ve encouraged that.’
Phillip saw Wilhelmina beaming at Benjamin, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve without any hesitation.
Why had he lost touch? he thought next, and knew the answer as soon as he had finished thinking it.
Because Gretel had liked neither Benjamin nor his wife, finding them too outspoken and Bohemian.
She preferred people like her, quiet and refined, which had narrowed down their social outings dramatically.
Towards the end there’d hardly been any at all.
‘If you would like to it would be our pleasure to host you both at Summerley. The gardens are very beautiful at this time of the year.’
When Wilhelmina nodded, Benjamin looked more than happy, and Phillip was grateful for the invitation.
Others joined them now and they formed a large group on the side of the ballroom, many of the disguises lifted away to reveal the identity of the person beneath.
Lord and Lady Duggan were a part of it, an interesting couple who were gracious and welcoming.
Phillip couldn’t remember being in Society ever being this simple before, and as Wilhelmina stayed in place beside him he decided a large part of the ease was because of her.
After two o’clock he escorted her to her carriage on the circular driveway before the imposing Duggan town house. He had removed his mask completely now and she had too in readiness to say goodbye.
But an awkwardness settled between them which had not been there at all in the evening. He wondered what she might think if he took the back of her hand and kissed it but she had both hands deeply embedded in the large pockets of her cloak, so he did not step forward.
Seeing the footman waiting a few yards away to help her in, he bowed his head and moved back.
‘Goodnight.’ She smiled and moved away as he watched her alight the small steps and disappear into the carriage.
Her face through the glass was momentarily caught in the light and then she was gone. Phillip did not return to the ball but made his way to his own carriage further down the street.
He’d been in London for nearly two whole weeks and was not desperate to be back in Hampshire. That thought amazed him.