“If you will excuse me, ladies.” The Duke took a step forward and gently shook off their grips. “I know I just joined your party, and some might say it is abominably rude for me to offer to be your escort, then disappear like this, but I am needed…elsewhere.”
The Duke doffed his top hat at them, then spun abruptly on his heel and marched away so fast that Phoebe could not track him once he entered the most crowded part of the house.
She stared after his figure for perhaps a beat too long. When she finally acknowledged that he was gone and it was clear he would not be returning any time soon, Phoebe ignored the knowinglook Genevieve was trying to give her, and she pushed aside her wonderings of what the Duke would perform.
“Well…” Phoebe said slowly as she allowed her eyes to float over the rest of the guests. “What should we do now?”
On one side of the room, there was a collection of instruments. A pianoforte featured most prominently toward the front and center of the room. The staff had obviously polished the instrument earlier in the day because both the white and black keys glimmered in the candlelight. To the right of the pianoforte, there stood a glorious harp.
Phoebe knew little of the instrument, but she often thought the sounds it produced were soothing and lovely. On the other side of the piano, Phoebe spotted what looked like a harpsichord, but again, possessing no musical talent of her own, she could not be entirely sure of that fact.
As she glanced around the room, a quartet entered. Each person carried with them an instrument of their choice. She saw a pair of violins, a cello, and a viola. The musicians sat upon spindly legged chairs and set to work on tuning their instruments. Immediately, the soft strains of discord filled the air, causing Phoebe to step closer to her cousin so she might hear her response.
“We could help ourselves to some punch.” Genevieve swept her hand wide and indicated the refreshment table that was tucked neatly into one corner of the room. “Or…oh! Over there I seeLady Macintosh. Let us go and join Charlotte. I have not spoken to her in an age and?—”
Genevieve grabbed ahold of Phoebe’s hand and started tugging her toward the front of the room where Lady Charlotte Macintosh was perched on a chair.
The Viscountess had made her debut years before when both Phoebe and Genevieve had first entered Society, but since then, she and her husband had spent their time at their country estate.
Yes, occasionally it was rumored that the couple turned up in London because the Viscount could not neglect his duties in the House of Lords, but when they were not required to be in town, they dwelt elsewhere.
Phoebe felt a special kinship with Lady Macintosh because until recently, she too had lived in the countryside and only lately rejoined Society.
“Lady Genevieve,” Lady Macintosh said sweetly as they approached her.
The Viscountess said primly on the edge of her seat. Her fair hair was swept up into an intricate design that featured a swirl of braids and curls. Unfortunately, most of her coiffure was covered by an elaborate turban that was made of fine iridescent silk.
“Is that you, dearest?”
“Oh, Charlotte!” Genevieve, as unreserved as ever, let go of Phoebe’s hands so that she could take hold of Lady Macintosh’s. “I was worried that I might never see you again. You do not know how I have agonized over that fact.”
Lady Macintosh gave Genevieve a soft smile as she gently patted her hands. “I see that even though years have separated us, you still use hyperbole quite liberally in your little speeches.”
“But you have been gone for so long, Charlotte,” Genevieve protested. “And the last letter I sent you was unanswered.”
“Ah…yes…” Lady Macintosh released Genevieve’s hand and touched a small swell in the bodice of her amethyst gown. “I have been distracted lately and not feeling my very best so…”
“Are you…” Genevieve squeaked joyfully. “Will there soon be a little Lord or Lady Macintosh?”
Charlotte grinned. “I am expecting a child, dear friend, that much is true. So please, forgive me for being a lackadaisical correspondent.”
“Nonsense,” Genevieve replied as she dropped into the chair next to her friend. “There is no need to beg my forgiveness. Now that we are reunited, I shall take every opportunity of pumping you for information.”
Lady Macintosh giggled then looked up and met Phoebe’s eyes. “And you, Lady Phoebe?” she asked quietly, in a sincere, sweettone. “It has been even longer since our paths crossed. How have you been?”
“I am well,” Phoebe answered as she slid into the seat next to her cousin.
Genevieve scoffed loudly. “Do not let her fool you, Lady Macintosh. Our little Phoebe here has been quite busy since we danced at your wedding. She has become engaged to a Marquess and is having quite a scandalous flirtation with a Duke.”
Lady Macintosh’s gentle smile vanished and was immediately replaced by a look of utter astonishment. “Really?” Charlotte twisted her neck and leaned slightly forward in her seat. Her eyes bored into Phoebe’s before flicking towards Genevieve’s. “I have not heard anything about these misadventures.”
“Then, let me enlighten you,” Genevieve insisted.
“No,” Phoebe groaned. “There is nothing to say, Charlotte. Honestly.”
“Oh, yes there is,” Genevieve refuted.
Charlotte blinked twice, then fixed her eyes on Phoebe. “Are you truly engaged to be married?”
