Philippa attended everything she could, sometimes with her mother, sometimes with Gwyneth and Devlin, a few times withone of her cousins or a newly made friend. She often went for a drive in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour with one of the young men who vied for the privilege of being seen there with her. For she had apparently become all the rage, if that was the correct term. She attracted men about her, Uncle George had commented when he came to dine one evening, as a flower bed attracts bees. Her dance card at balls almost always filled up before the start of the second set, sometimes sooner.
There was even the morning when a gentleman with whom she had danced and conversed several times presented himself at Stratton House, requested a private word with Devlin, and then stammered out a marriage proposal toher.She was taken totally by surprise, since he had given no indication that his interest in her was amorous or that his intentions were serious. She felt quite dreadful as she refused his offer as tactfully as she could and vowed to herself that she would be more careful in the future.
“Careful, Pippa?” Gwyneth said when she reported back to the family. “Can you possibly make yourself less beautiful? Or less sweet and charming? And let me add that I haveneverseen you either flirt or encourage any man to believe that you harbor tender feelings for him.”
Apart from that one rather upsetting incident—for he was a very likable gentleman—Philippa was enjoying herself enormously. She never had to fear being a wallflower at a ball or finding herself standing alone at a party. She had women friends and men friends, some of whom liked to sigh soulfully over her and pay her lavish compliments, but she did not take them seriously—not, at least, until after that painful proposal. There was no one with whom she felt she could fall in love and no one she could imagine herself marrying. She doubted she would ever accept a marriage offer unless she could feel something more than just affection and respect forthe man concerned. Her favorites were Sir Gerald Emmett and Lord Edward Denton, the tall, cheerful, rather gangly fourth son of a duke, to whom her uncle had introduced her at Almack’s on her first visit there. She felt quite sure that neither man was really angling for a wife, but both consistently singled her out for attention, were easy conversationalists, and had a good sense of humor. Perhaps they both enjoyed her company because they sensed that she was not angling for a husband.
She saw the Marquess of Roath quite frequently. How could she not? Though they did not always attend the same entertainments, very often they did. Sometimes they came close enough to each other to exchange pleasantries. But there was never more than that, and Philippa was glad of it. It would become easier as time went on, she told herself, to look upon him with no stronger emotion than she felt for any number of men to whom she had been introduced and with whom she had danced or conversed a time or two. It was not happening yet, but she enjoined patience upon herself.
Her mother, Stephanie, and Gwyneth had all quizzed her on that day of the nonproposal, after she had given them a very vague account of her interview with the marquess. They had all been disappointed and a bit puzzled, for apparently Lord Roath seemed perfect to all of them. With his good looks and charm of manner, of course, that was not really surprising. But after she had told them, with a slight bending of the truth, that she had said a very definite no and that he had seemed disinclined to press the issue, they had said no more. Lady Catherine Emmett and Jenny had also been kind and tactful.
Both had told her they had been very much hoping she and Luc would make a match of it, but neither had belabored the point. Perhaps he had asked them not to?
—
A couple of weeks after the Marquess of Roath’s infamous visit to Stratton House, Philippa went to a garden party in Richmond with her mother. Devlin and Gwyneth were taking Stephanie to Kew Gardens, specifically to see the pagoda there.
It was a beautiful day. The long stretch of lawn between the house and the river Thames had been carefully scythed to look almost like a bowling green. The numerous flower beds were ablaze with color. The water was blue and calm so that all but the most skittish were eager to take a turn rowing or being rowed in one of six small boats. Comfortable chairs were set in groupings out on the grass and along the riverbank for the comfort of those who wished to relax while soaking up the heat of the sun. On the paved terrace outside the house, long tables covered with crisply starched white cloths were laden with a wide variety of savory and sweet foods and beverages both hot and cold. Small tables had been arranged on either end of the terrace for the convenience of those who preferred to sit in the shade as they took refreshments.
Philippa did not remain for long with her mother, who was whisked away by friends to view the flowers. Philippa meanwhile was borne off for an early turn on the river with Lord Edward Denton. She walked through the hothouses with another of her admirers afterward and conversed for a while with a lively group of young people, with all of whom she had an acquaintance. She was beginning to feel, in fact, that she knew almost everyone who frequentedtonevents, even if only by sight. She was starting to find it easier to put names to faces and sometimes given and family names to their accompanying titles. She had a sense of belonging, and she liked it.
She went to talk with Jenny and her sister and aunt. They weresitting on the lawn, alone together for the moment, Viscount Mayberry and Mr.Jamieson, who had been with them a few minutes before, having wandered away together.
“The grass is remarkably smooth underfoot,” Philippa said after greeting the three ladies. “I do not believe the wheels of your chair would get stuck on it, Jenny. Shall we go for a stroll?”
“Perhaps,” Lady Catherine suggested, “we should hail one of the men to push the chair.”
“I believe I can manage,” Philippa assured her. “And there are plenty of men upon whom to call if we should need help.”
“Oh, yes, please, Pippa,” Jenny said eagerly. “I would love to go down by the water’s edge. There is a footpath there. That will be easier for you.”
They walked and talked and stopped to exchange greetings with other guests for all of half an hour before agreeing that they were hungry and thirsty and in need of the shade the terrace offered. But there was no empty table there, alas. There was one with only two occupants, however, an elderly couple, who both raised an arm to attract their attention and point to the empty places.
“Grandmama and Grandpapa,” Jenny said. “They told Aunt Kitty they might come later, but I did not see them arrive. I am amazed that they do not find all the socializing they do a drain upon their energies.”
“I shall wheel you up to the table,” Philippa said, “and then go to—”
“Oh, please do not,” Jenny said, interrupting. “They will be hurt. Though perhaps you—”
“—fetch us some food,” Philippa said, completing her sentence, though not in quite the way she had planned.
She had managed to avoid the Duke and Duchess of Wilby since their grandson called upon her at Stratton House, though shehad glimpsed one or both of them from a distance a few times. She did not know how they felt about her. The duke had arranged a formal marriage offer for his grandson to make her and had almost without a doubt expected that she would accept it. It must have been a severe blow to his pride that she had not. She wondered if the marquess had admitted that he had not even made the offer.
“Lady Philippa,” the duke said, getting gallantly to his feet in order to draw out a chair for her. “Do please give Her Grace and me the pleasure of your company.”
The duchess was patting Jenny’s hand. “Yes, do, Lady Philippa,” she said, indicating the chair.
“I will go and fetch a plate of food for the table before I sit,” she said. “Would you like tea or—”
“You will do no such thing,” the duke said. “That is what we brought Luc for.”
And sure enough, Philippa saw when she turned her head sharply in the direction of the food tables, he was on his way back with a tray bearing plates of food and cups of tea.
She sat. It was too late now to insist upon moving away. Her reason for doing so would be too obvious.
“Lady Philippa?” the Marquess of Roath said by way of greeting. “Jenny? Are you having a good afternoon?”
“I certainly am,” his sister said. “Pippa and I have been down by the river. It is lovely there. Very peaceful despite all the people.”
