Phoebe felt Sophie eyeball her across the room, knowing full well she was thinking about the many different ways in which her behaviour had already given rise to so much gossip. She nodded as sincerely as she could, certain that while Sophie might try to use the dinner to further her acquaintance with Captain Elliot, she was equally as determined to find the quietest corner and remain there.
She had no desire to see either Lady Aurelia or the viscount, or listen to any talk of betrothals, or fuel his impression that she was a disruptive country nobody whom he should have left to moulder at the side of the road. Furthermore, while she was dreading marriage to the earl, she was even less willing to bring her aunt, uncle, or the Fairfax family name into any further disrepute.
All of which left her fully resolved that this night would be the least heroic of her whole miserable existence.
* * *
Damerel Place turned out to be a large family townhouse in the Royal Crescent, and only a stone’s throw from the Assembly Rooms.
‘Trust the viscount’s family to have one of the smartest houses in the row!’ Sophie chattered, shuffling forward in her seat to get a better look at the looming Georgian townhouse, lit by an extravagant number of copper lanterns.
‘Hush now, dear, it’s not de rigueur to speak in such a way. One must merely remark how veryfineit is, and then flick open one’s fan like so, see?’ Aunt Higglestone demonstrated with a twinkle in her eye.
Sophie giggled, while Phoebe remained silent. Somehow, actually seeing the viscount’s townhouse brought back their last meeting as clearly as though it were yesterday. She could still see the derision in his eyes, still hear the contempt in his tone when he handed her into his chaise, and bid his driver deliver her home.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. He was altogether the most obnoxious person of her acquaintance, and while he might have considerable reason to think her touched in the head, she hadn’t invited him to be her hero. She tightened her mask, fixed her smile and followed her aunt and Sophie into the viscount’s home.
The first thing to strike her was that Sophie’s impression was quite accurate. Set over five floors with a cerulean ballroom, Bath-stone stairs and far too many mirrors and pillars to count, the viscount’s townhouse was more accurately a town manor house.
The captain’sprivate dinneralso seemed to be a vast understatement in itself, for there were more than thirty guests, a gaming room, a ladies’ retiring room, a dinner buffet that seemed to replenish itself and an impressive garden lit with a multitude of tiny candles.
‘Of course, a Damerel dinner wouldn’t just be dinner,’ their aunt muttered, wide-eyed as she wandered off in search of a sherry.
‘Oh, look! You’d think we were at an exotic palace!’ Sophie exclaimed as they reached a set of French doors that led out onto a wide, rolling lawn, which boasted crowing peacocks and a miniature maze among other ornamental decorations.
‘The peacocks?’ Phoebe murmured, scanning the garden carefully.
They’d left their aunt at a card table, and their uncle ensconced in a debate about the efficiencies of the new four-course crop-rotation system.
‘No, the pastries…’ Sophie glared. ‘Of course, the peacocks! Have you ever seen peacocks at a dinner party before?’
‘Oh, I’ve seen plenty of peacocks at a dinner party – peahens too, truth be known!’ A masked lady interrupted as she waltzed up to them with all the confidence of a debutante on the verge of notable marital success.
Phoebe scowled harder than she ever had in her life.
Aurelia could wear all the laced masks and violet taffeta she liked; but there was no mistaking her duplicitous china-doll eyes. She swayed as she paused, red wine in hand, and laughed while Phoebe stared, searching for any sign of the girl she’d glimpsed in the theatre box.
There was none.
‘I have nothing left to say to you, Aurelia,’ she said, taking Sophie’s arm.
It was the truth. She’d hidden the poultice inside a well-packed hat box, and dispatched it to Aurelia the following day.
‘Ah, well, yes, with regard to that,’ she smiled. ‘As it turned out, it wasn’t required after all, silly me!’
She paused to clamp a slim, gloved hand across her pretty mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth.
‘I was also curious to discover that you’d elected to leave the theatre early,’ she continued airily. ‘The viscount did seem unusually abrupt when he returned, but then I discovered you’d disclosed your identity and as he really can’t abide dishonourable behaviour of any kind…’
‘I wonder then at his marrying you!’ Sophie blazed protectively.
‘Captain Elliot!’ Phoebe greeted a newcomer forcefully. ‘I would recognise your immaculate uniform anywhere. How are you?’
‘Dearest Captain Elliot,’ Aurelia simpered instantly. ‘If you’ve come to claim my hand for a dance, you’ll be sadly disappointed for my card is full until the quadrille, which you may have I suppose, though I shall have to disappoint others.’
She fluttered her fan with practised ease.
‘There is dancing?’ Sophie exclaimed as the masked captain bent low over Aurelia’s hand. ‘I’m liking this dinner more and more!’
