Chapter Four
“And make sure to dance with at least three ladies, Michael,” reeled off his mother with a smile as they alighted from their carriage. “And try not to mention how awful the food is—”
“The food is awful, Mama,” Michael pointed out cheerfully.
The Viscountess Pernrith glared. “I know, Michael. It’s been awful since before you were born, but what do we do?”
“We smile and we eat it.” His younger sister, Gwen, grinned as she dusted down her skirts. “Honestly, Mama, you’re acting as though we’ve never been to Almack’s before!”
It was a visit Michael could honestly have done without.
Discovering that no ships were scheduled to leave for America for a good while was unfortunate to the extreme; not only because it now required him to wait around, still keeping the secret of his immigration from his family, but because he’d been forced to unpack the damned trunk. He’d needed his best boots.
Shame that he needed them for Almack’s, one of Society’s least enjoyable locations.
A slow smile crept across Michael’s face. But then again, staying in England had revealed certain compensations…
“You promised me you’d cry my name, not God’s.”
“So I did. If I climax.”
“You are a worthy opponent, Captain Seaton.”
“Well, I’m at least glad to see that Michael is looking forward to the evening,” his mother said approvingly, cutting into a rather nice memory.
Michael started. “What? No, I—”
“Must we stay long?” Teddy looked around them as they stood on the pavement, shivering slightly despite the heat of the day. “I don’t want to be gawped at.”
“You’re beautiful, Teddy. You must get accustomed to being looked at,” said their mother fondly.
Michael’s sister bit her lip and sighed.
A part of him—a very small part of him, and it had been outvoted—whispered that he should stay in the country until all four of his sisters were married.
Two down, two to go, and he hardly doubted Gwen would have much difficulty in that quarter, now that she was out and being courted by that marquess.
What was his title? The Marquess of Ravenshurst?
But Teddy… She was a shy one. That might be a tad more difficult.
The Viscountess Pernrith was shepherding her children forward. “And to think, your father wanted to leave Town and go to the country!”
“It’s not fair,” murmured his younger sister Teddy. “All I want to do is escape London, and Mama and Papa have already been to Stanphrey Lacey this summer—twice. We barely stayed two days for Cousin Lucy’s wedding.”
She was right; the Chance family estate had been visited by their parents and all their uncles and aunts without any of their offspring a few weeks ago, even before Lucy’s wedding.
Which was strange, now that Michael came to think about it.
They had only gone for about a week, instead of the long summers they usually spent there as a family.
But so many of his cousins were married now, with their own families and routines. The childhood he had known, Michael knew with a sinking feeling, was gone.
“Come on now,” trilled his mother. “The dancing has already begun!”
Michael tried not to groan.
The dancing.
There was always some chit of a girl who was desperate to dance with a Chance.
The Cothrom Chances, the most senior branch of the family, were never approached.
They were far too striking, in the eyes of Society, Michael observed darkly as the Pernrith Chances stepped into Almack’s.
That, and the men in that branch of the family were now all married, so a lady would have been wasting her time hoping for a dance with the young duke and his brothers.
The only unmarried Aylesbury Chance brother was Benjamin, and he was in so much trouble these days that mamas kept their daughters far away from him.
Percy, the heir of the Lindow Chances, had never been one to put himself forward, and somehow, he managed to avoid all the scheming and planning that occurred in the marriage mart. Michael had asked him once how he’d managed it, and his cousin had shrugged and said he had absolutely no idea.
Which left him.
As the only son and heir to the Viscount Pernrith, there were plenty of ladies, Michael noted ominously as his gaze swept across the ballroom as the four of them entered, who would adore one day gaining a title, even if it was a minor one.
It was still a title, after all.
Whispers scattered across the room as his mother stepped forward and greeted a few friends with low, cheerful murmurs.
Even a few of the dancing couples halted in their steps and looked over.
Michael groaned as a pair of older ladies surrounded by younger ones craned their necks and whispered to one another in hushed tones.
Gwen chuckled. “Whom do you think you’ll be forced to dance with first?”
Michael’s jaw tightened. Of all his sisters, Gwen was the one who always poked at him. “I don’t have to dance with anyone.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” said Gwen gleefully. “Tell him, Mama.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” said the viscountess vaguely. “Gwen, Teddy, come here. Let me introduce you to the Duke of Thornfalcone’s younger brother.”
Michael stepped aside to allow his sisters through, and in doing so shifted his view of the room.
There was the card room, cigar smoke billowing out.
There were the trestle tables laden with food that no one wanted to eat.
There were the doors to the balcony, a godsend by about midnight when the crush of the place was liable to make ladies swoon. And there was—
Captain Phylis Seaton.
Michael blinked, his vision hazing. It wasn’t possible. He was hallucinating—dreaming, imagining that wonderful moment so often these last four and twenty hours that his mind was playing tricks on him.
But no matter how many times he blinked, she did not disappear.
He shifted on his feet, moving slightly to look around…and when his gaze returned to the spot where Captain Phylis Seaton had been standing, she was gone.
Michael’s shoulders relaxed. So I was imagining it. Goodness, that had given him a fright. The very idea that the woman he had pleasured so utterly—on the understanding that they would never see each other—could actually have been here at Almack’s…
“Well met, Mr. Chance,” came a voice that was all too familiar just behind him. “I never thought I would see you here.”
Slowly, twisting inch by inch, as though hesitancy could make the disaster go away, Michael turned to see a smiling Captain Phylis Seaton.
A Captain Phylis Seaton in the most resplendent gown he had ever seen. It was white, a white silk that could have looked shiny and almost bridal, but somehow looked elegant and summery. Her sleeves fluttered down to mother-of-pearl buttons at the cuffs, and the bodice—
Michael swallowed. The bodice was incredibly tight, indeed.
“Yes, the weather is particularly fine,” said Captain Seaton, draping a delicate hand across her throat. “For the time of year.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” hissed Michael, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from his family before realizing that he couldn’t go about touching ladies at Almack’s without setting off all sorts of rumors.
He dropped her arm as though it had burned him.
Hell’s bells, but this was a disaster!
What it looked like was that Captain Seaton was having a wonderful time. She was laughing now, a light, nonchalant giggle that said to the world that she was being well entertained by the eldest son of the Viscount Pernrith.
Dear God. If she is here to reveal—
“I thought you were leaving,” Michael said in an undertone, trying to keep his face bright so that no one suspected anything was amiss. “You said that you were leaving!”
“Alas, my ship departed without me again—a small cargo run to Plymouth. She’ll be back before I know it.” Captain Seaton grinned. “Besides, I thought you were leaving. Are you pleased to see me?”
“‘Pleased’?” echoed Michael hollowly.
That was one word for it.
True, it was delightful to have another opportunity to behold the beautiful woman. Her hair looked dazzling against the white silk and in the flickering candlelight, and that waist…
Michael swallowed. It made him want to get on his knees and—
But this was madness! It was embarrassing, that was what it was, to have a woman he had literally brought to climax approach him—approach him!—at Almack’s, of all places.
Much against his better judgment, Michael glanced over his shoulder at his family. There stood his sisters, happily talking to a pair of gentlemen. Well, Gwen was talking happily. Teddy was listening.
At least they wouldn’t ask for an introduction to the woman he was conversing with…but his mother would almost certainly—
“Ah, Michael, there you are,” came the warm, dulcet tones of the viscountess. “Are you going to introduce me?”
Michael’s spirits sank faster than a ship with a mortal leak.
Turning back around, his gut twisted as he saw his mother standing right beside Captain Seaton—who, he had to draw some encouragement from, looked quite startled to be faced with a woman of such elegance and poise.
Michael forced a smile. His mother had been declared the flourishing rose of the season in her day. There was nothing she could not weather.
“Mama,” he said lightly, and he spotted Captain Seaton’s eyes widening, “may I introduce to you Cap—”
“Mrs. Seaton,” the captain interrupted with a slight flush of her cheeks. “How pleasant to meet you, Mrs. Chance.”
Now Michael’s smile was genuine. Aha, he’d caught her there! It was a great imposition to address a member of the nobility incorrectly, and to be sure, she could not have known that—but his mother was a stickler for rules and respect. Surely she would—
“Oh, funnily, enough, it’s Lady Pernrith, actually,” said his mother with a small, upward tilt of her lips as she placed a placatory hand on the captain’s arm. “But please, don’t worry. Sometimes I rather wish I were merely a Mrs.”