Chapter Three #2
“Wycliff,” the young man said, his eyes running over Phoebe by Gabriel’s side and now hanging on tightly to his arm. Determined to appear confident, she stiffened her spine and looked the newcomer in the eye. Which was hard as he appeared to be looking down the front of her gown.
“Evesham,” Gabriel returned. “Miss Hollingshead. How very lovely you look this evening.”
Phoebe chanced a glance at Gabriel. He clearly knew these two.
Not that she herself knew anyone at all.
Who was this sinister young man? Only now he was smiling he looked much improved.
His smile rather reminded her of Gabriel’s, only she had the feeling this one was nowhere near as sincere.
He did not possess Gabriel’s relaxed and rather devil-may-care attitude.
This thought rather pleased her as she’d already decided she didn’t like this Evesham.
“You have the advantage of me,” Evesham said, keeping his eyes on Phoebe. “You know my partner, but I don’t know yours.”
Phoebe felt Gabriel stiffen beside her. So perhaps he wasn’t quite as relaxed as she thought. “Lady Phoebe Nicholson, may I introduce you to Viscount Evesham. And Miss Hollingshead.”
Phoebe bobbed an awkward curtsy as Evesham bowed and Miss Hollingshead returned the curtsy. Was she mistaken or did Gabriel not like this young man? Her curiosity aroused, she looked from one man’s face to the other.
Evesham spoke first. “Might I trouble you, Lady Phoebe, to write my name on your dance card? I should be most delighted if you would consent to dance the cotillion with me. It’s quite one of my favorites.”
It wasn’t going to be after she’d trampled on his toes.
She didn’t say that, of course, but bowed her head in submission and fetched out her dance card and pencil, wishing the ground would swallow her up right now.
At least she’d wanted to dance with Lord Gabriel because she’d seen him as her ideal man.
But the newcomer in front of her sent nervous shivers down her back.
She most certainly did not want to dance with him but short of being rude she was going to have to.
Evesham took the pencil, his fingers brushing hers as he did so, and wrote his name on the card with a flourish. “I shall look forward to that, Lady Phoebe.” He bowed again. “Wycliff.” And he and Miss Hollingshead moved on.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Phoebe looked up at Gabriel. “Who was that?”
He raised his eyebrows, back to his relaxed self. “Evesham? Oh, a friend of my brother’s. They were at Eton and Oxford together.”
“I realize that is his name,” Phoebe said, a little annoyed. “What I mean is, who is he? If I have to dance with him, then I think I need to know. And you now know that I do not like to dance at all. Not with anyone.”
She was thinking that she might like to dance with Gabriel again though, especially if it were just the two of them. But that was never going to happen.
He gave an eloquent shrug. “His father is the Earl of Mandeville.” His blue eyes twinkled.
“I suppose I should warn you that Evesham is a terrible rake, loves to gamble, and drinks like the proverbial fish. So do not go off into any shadowy corners with him as he is not to be trusted. He’s also on the lookout for a rich heiress to marry to support his gambling, so I would suggest that you might meet with that requirement.
Another thing to beware of. Do not allow him to compromise you and force you into marriage. ”
Her eyes widened. “Good heavens. I hadn’t thought of any of that. I don’t think I want to dance with him at all. When is the cotillion? I shall go and hide somewhere he can’t find me.”
Gabriel burst out laughing. “You will be quite safe during the cotillion. But if he tries to promenade you, as I have done, keep to the light. Do not let him take you out onto the terrace. That would be disaster.”
She frowned. “Are you teasing me?”
He shook his head. “Not at all, but you’re new to the Season, and quite an ingenue. I feel a little advice might be worthwhile.”
She managed a smile. “I thank you for it.”
They were now approaching Aunt Fanny, who was standing with Cousin Mattie.
Engaged in conversation with her was a tall and stately woman in a splendid violet gown, not unlike Aunt Fanny in imposing build and appearance.
By her side stood a plump young lady whose honey-blonde hair rivaled Mattie’s, although her figure did not.
Phoebe suppressed a sigh of envy. Why was everyone so much taller than she was, and always so pretty and blonde?
If only her own hair were the same attractive shade.
Might it be possible to dye it? Miss Hailsham had once told her that only disreputable women did that, but Phoebe hadn’t been convinced.
If she’d had the knowledge she would have tried it, only knowing her luck it would have gone horribly wrong and she would have ended up with green or blue hair.
Lord Gabriel, ignorant of the thoughts flashing through her mind, made a flamboyant bow as though he were pleased to see the matrons.
“Lady Brockwood, I return your precious responsibility to you. And Lady Mandeville, how lovely to see you again, and with the delightful Lady Julia, no less. Lady Phoebe and I have just been speaking with your brother. Your servant, milady. And this must be the lovely Miss Matilda Nicholson. Lady Phoebe has been telling me so much about you.”
Phoebe frowned. Why was he lying? The last thing she’d wanted to do was to talk about the beautiful Mattie with a gentleman she was beginning to like, even though she was very fond of her cousin.
The thought that he might prefer Mattie made her uncomfortable and brought more heat to her cheeks.
Somehow, she didn’t want to relinquish her hold on his arm.
It felt quite proprietorial, as though she’d staked her claim on him already.
Aunt Fanny, who seemed a little flustered, caught Phoebe’s hand and ushered her forwards.
“This is the sadly orphaned niece I was telling you about, Lady Mandeville. Lady Phoebe Nicholson. She’s my late brother-in-law’s only child and,” she dropped her voice, but not quite far enough, “I should point out, heir to a sizeable fortune through her late mother.”
As if Lady Mandeville didn’t already know that.
Phoebe could tell by the look on this lady’s face that she was already counting her value as a prospective daughter-in-law.
Being shy and awkward in company had not turned Phoebe into an idiot.
She knew a conniving mama when she saw one.
The worst thing was, though, that this one would be conniving on the part of her dreadful son.
However, suppressing her annoyance at her aunt’s blatant boasting about her fortune, Phoebe executed her best curtsy, which was a mistake, as in trying to excel for once, she ended up almost falling over. Only Lord Gabriel reaching a hand out to steady her saved her from that ignominy.
Lady Mandeville returned a mere nod, whilst managing to frown at Gabriel’s supporting hand.
“I already am well acquainted with you and your brother, Lord Gabriel.” The dryness of her tone suggested that this was not to his credit, although she was most likely referring to Ambrose, who was as fond of gambling and women as Lord Evesham.
Her Ladyship’s alarmingly sharp eyebrows snapped. “I spotted Lord Buckland earlier and was most surprised at his presence as I gather the birth of an heir to the dukedom is imminent—in Dorset.”
Phoebe bit her lip in an effort not to giggle at Her Ladyship’s sarcastic tone.
She was feeling a little giddy partly due to the presence of Gabriel and partly due to her own resurfacing nervous fears about the evening.
Obviously, if one’s wife was about to give birth, a husband was expected to be dancing attendance.
At least in Her Ladyship’s opinion. Phoebe wondered if the Earl of Mandeville was under his wife’s heavy thumb. He hadn’t looked as if he was.
Her Ladyship swept on without giving Lord Gabriel the chance to refute this criticism of his brother, if, indeed, he could have. His brother being here while his wife was in the advanced stages of pregnancy did seem to be an irrefutable fact.
“Now, my dear,” she said, leaning closer to Phoebe, “my daughter Julia has been asking to meet you, and I am sure you can be good friends. Perhaps you would like to accompany us for some refreshments…and to meet my son again. I trust he has written his name on your dance card. Do come along.”