“It was quite hectic today,” she smirked. “My sister is to debut in the next two years, early for a young lady, and so she has been quite adamant that she needs to accompany me to events. I would personally love that, but our father refuses. He says that she must wait her turn.”
She giggled as she said it, clearly holding a lot of affection for her sister.
“And it is strange,” she continued. “Because I would have thought that our father might have been honest about the matter; we do not have the money for it, but he protected her feelings. I suppose I am grateful for that. I am also grateful for our beloved Winston, our dog, for he adores Elizabeth and is the entire reason she is happy to stay home.”
“Stay home,” he echoed. “That is perhaps what I should have done.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“It is simply that I… well, this used to be the sort of thing that I excelled at, and now I would much rather be home. I never would have thought that I would be like this.”
“People change as they grow,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I, for one, see no harm in preferring to be at home, especially if one has a particularly lovely one.”
“I do, indeed, but it is also the privacy that I long for.”
He wanted to silence himself, but speaking with her was so easy that he could not make himself stop.
“And you are well within your rights to want that. I do not know if you have been told that before.”
“I have not. There is, instead, the expectation for me to perform for the masses, which I used to be good at it, but I cannot bring myself to do it any longer.”
“Then you need not do so. You cannot be forced to do anything, not unless you consent to it, and then that is hardly forced, is it?”
Philip noticed that whatever she had done had worked well; he was far calmer now. As he turned to thank her, he at last took note of what she looked like thanks to a lantern she had brought.
She had lowered her mask to place her hand on his back, revealing blue-black hair that had seemingly been forced into place, striking pale blue eyes, fair skin with many beauty spots on her face and reddish-pink bow-shaped lips. She looked almost doll-like, and with her lips parted and her eyes searching she only emphasized that.
She had perhaps the kindest eyes that he had ever seen, and remarkably she looked exactly like the sort of lady he mighthave danced with to the waltz that he could hear, had their circumstances been different.
He froze. He could hear the musicians, meaning that they were suspiciously close to the ballroom, and therefore the other guests in attendance. Now, when he looked at the young lady, he could not stand her; he knew what she had been trying to do. Everyone knew who he was, with or without the mask, and whether she had helped him or not she must have known what she was doing.
He was angry with her, angry with all women, for how they treated him as if he were his title and nothing more, tempting scandal if it meant the chance of being a duchess. It was too much to bear.
“How dare you?” he thundered. “Is it in your plans to accost a man in a fragile state?”
“What?” The young lady asked, mouth open. “Sir, I can assure you that I would never—”
“I do not care to hear it. All you young ladies are the same. I hope that whatever man you set your cap to next sees your intentions as I have.”
He did not give her a chance to respond, instead snatching the lantern she was using and stumbling away. He wanted to look menacing, or at least strong, and he hoped that he had achievedthat evening through his struggle. He marched to his carriage, boarded it, and immediately set for home, swearing off women entirely, more so than he thought he had.
Even so, he couldn’t help but think of her. She was almost like a sparrow, and she certainly did not appear deceitful. Then again, he had been fooled by a lady’s looks before, and he refused to fall for it again. He would not forget her face for a long time, he knew that much, and he was grateful for that in some respects.
At least he would not fall for any other lady trying the same thing any time soon, and he had that mysterious young lady to thank for that. He also should have thanked her for helping him, he quickly realized, but perhaps if she did not have such questionable motives he might have done so.
He was confused that night, but in spite of it all one thing remained perfectly clear. He would not be seen in society for a very, very long time indeed. It was for the best after all; he did not want to hear the whispers, and he knew that eventually it would all die down. Soon enough, Lady Ophelia would marry another poor soul, and he could declare that he had no intentions to marry and would be left well alone.
Sighing, he slammed a bottle of brandy on his desk. He knew it would never happen; such things never did in London.
Chapter 1
“You will be cordial with the Duke of Creighton, and that is final.”
Lady Jacqueline Winterbourne, daughter of Lord Pemberton, had not told her father about her conversation with the duke all those years prior, but somehow, he seemed to know that she had no interest at all in the man.
Regardless, it did not matter that she was hesitant. What mattered was that she oversaw the packing for the trip; her father would not do it himself, and even if he did it would not be of any use to them.
Besides, Jackie reasoned, it would aid her in her future running of a household, should she ever marry.
