‘Oh, I’ve never felt better.’ She giggled again, leaning into the viscount who straightened instantly. ‘And I’m sure Alexander will escort me for some air in a moment. We’ve set our wedding date, have you heard?’
Phoebe shot a glance at the viscount’s heavily veiled eyes and, while she knew it to be inevitable, an unexpected dart buried itself somewhere between her corset and bones.
‘My congratulations to you both, I’m sure you will complement each other exceptionally well,’ she managed, before executing the briefest of curtsies. ‘Do excuse me.’
It turned out that negus was excellent at taking the edge off everything, which was just as well as the earl chose to claim her hand for the next two dances. He was already alarmingly purple, and just when she thought several of his gold filigree, waistcoat buttons must forcibly eject themselves from his straining person, a voice intervened with all the timing of a real hero.
‘Excuse me, sir, but I do believe Miss Fairfax promised the waltz to me. I humbly beg your pardon for depriving you of such a fair partner, but if rumours are correct you will have a great many dances to look forward to, while I shall likely die alone in my barracks, with only the rats for company.’
‘Poppycock!’ the earl huffed, before passing Phoebe’s hand over, and making for the nearest tray of brandy.
The captain executed one of his most flamboyant bows, while Phoebe smiled with gratitude. He really was the most amiable, ridiculous gentleman, and she hoped her nerves weren’t as visible as they felt.
‘Good evening, Miss Fairfax,’ Captain Elliot murmured, raising her hand to his lips. ‘Might I be so bold as to venture that you look quite enchanting tonight – I do believe I may be forced to elope with you.’
His last words were uttered so faintly that only Phoebe could hear them as he led her through the lilting music. She swallowed, a faint flush spilling across her cheeks.
‘Appearances can be quite deceptive, sir,’ she murmured, ‘you might learn to regret such a rash action.’
‘And yet my instincts tell me otherwise,’ he returned, raising his eyebrows in a way that reminded her only of the viscount.
She caught her breath, just as she became aware of Sophie’s stare across the floor. It was a look that reached into her bones, and silently she berated herself, willing the musicians to finish. It was enough that she was stealing away with the captain at dawn, the last thing she wanted was to create any memories that rubbed salt in the wound.
As they waltzed through the steps, Phoebe thought briefly of the letters she’d written and entrusted to Josephine’s care earlier, begging her confidence until the appointed hour the following day. Thomas, her aunt and uncle, Sophie, Matilda, and even the earl had one. Each charted a very swift love affair with Captain Elliot that had proven impossible to resist, despite her approaching nuptials. Each entreated the recipient to forgive her, and to know she’d acted as rationally as love had allowed. They were the only words she could find to explain what she already knew to be inexplicable, and in the end there was only one person remaining.
Papa.
She could tell herself there was honour in saving the captain and Dr Kapoor, even that her sisters would understand in time, but there was no escaping the damage to Papa’s memory. A debt was a matter of honour, and a debt unpaid was a scandal that could affect them all.
Yet the captain hadn’t exaggerated about the growing rumours, either. She’d already noticed the stares and whispers of a particular group of society mamas. They were the patrons and rule makers, the matrons who could make or break a debutante in a breath, while their husbands ran the banks, the army, and the courts. There would be little mercy for someone like the captain, despite his family name, and Phoebe was sure Aurelia had helped stir suspicions.
‘Oh, the captain is certainly a flatterer! A flatterer and a jester, are you not, sweet Captain Elliot, no matter what idle gossipers might say.’
It would be just like Aurelia to think she could get rid of family members she disliked, particularly if they knew too much about her own misdoings.
Phoebe inhaled deeply, the captain’s only hope was to convince the gossips that theirs was a true love match, while hers was that they would be forgiven – in the end.
Finally, the waltz slowed, and the room hushed as the king got to his feet.
‘Much as I dislike to interrupt merriment of any kind.’ He paused to acknowledge some polite laughter. ‘It falls to me to share somecelebratorynews with you all.’
Phoebe glanced up at the captain, whose face shuttered as he bowed and offered his arm. She took it, and let him escort her back to Thomas, with dread coiling in the pit of her stomach.
‘It pleases me greatly to announce there is to be a wedding – at last – in the House of Cumberland!’ King George continued.
He paused to raise his glass, as the earl rose from his seat.
‘It is not every day that such anold’—he paused for laughter—‘and distinguished house chooses to venture into the state of matrimony – and while it has taken you far too long, Clarence, I’m sure everyone here will join me in wishing you great joy and many offspring!’
The room erupted into a blur of spontaneous clapping, while Phoebe accepted the felicitations of those nearest with a dazed nod.
Clarence? Why, above all things, was she surprised that this was how she’d hear the earl’s first name? And why wasn’t she surprised that it suited his purple face so very well?
‘Where was your name?’ Sophie demanded, in thinly veiled annoyance.
Her words echoed as Phoebe glimpsed her entire life reflected in the sea of jubilant faces surrounding her. Had it really all been leading to this? A wedding announcement that didn’t even include her name? It was laughable – almost.
The earl raised his glass, not even looking in her direction, as those nearest him clustered around, eager to be the first to offer their congratulations.
