“Did you win at cards?” she asked, taking the chair he’d vacated.
“How did you know I was in the card room?” His mood lifted merely from seeing her.
“I didn’t see you dancing and assumed you were playing at cards.”
Feeling happiness over her searching the dance floor for him was also irrational. He must get ahold of these wayward emotions.
“Lady Fortuna was not with me in the card room,” he confessed.
Miranda tilted her head and observed him. “Are you going to ask me to dance?”
“Yes, of course. Shall we?” He offered his hand, eager now to have her in his arms.
She laughed. “There is a break at present. They’ve given us a few minutes for lemonade or champagne.”
Glancing around, he hadn’t noticed the lull, his focus thoroughly fixed upon her. At that moment, servers were going around holding trays laden with glassware.
“At many balls, they don’t let the beverages come this close to the dance floor,” he informed her.
“I can understand why.” She gestured with a dip of her head.
Turning to look, he noticed Lord Wesley talking, laughing, and spilling all over the polished parquet.
“He might be a tad clumsy,” Philip said, “but at least he didn’t overturn his rowboat.”
Thinking of what came after, with them naked in Northumberland’s house, he wished he hadn’t mentioned it, especially when she blushed so ferociously her aunt asked her if she was well.
“Fine, thank you.”
After that, they sipped their champagne in silence, and Philip was glad when the bell rang to indicate it was time to dance. His fingers itched to take hold of her. He couldn’t recall wanting to dance with anyone as much.
Thankfully, it was a spirited waltz. He would not have to release the bewitching creature that was Miranda Bright, not for several minutes. The musicians played the Sussex Waltz with distinct strains of Mozart, and the violin, piano, and flute presently had them twirling in a lively fashion about the floor.
When it was over, he reluctantly turned her over to Lord Lowry waiting eagerly for the next dance. Philip hoped it was a traditional country-dance but feared it would be another waltz.
Seeing her give him a backward glance as she returned to the parquet, he sent her a smile and then dragged his gaze away, wondering how he would pass the rest of the ball. He had no interest in the other young ladies. He wasn’t supposed to have an interest in Miranda, for that matter. And he wished to God he didn’t. She was a sweet magistrate’s daughter, and he was ...notso sweet.
Philip went outside onto the terrace and considered what he was and who he was. A titled man, an officer, and now a man of business. Many had labeled him a rake, and he knew he had behaved as such. He also knew men who acted differently, courting a woman, falling in love, and then marrying her. And some of those men even stayed true to their wives afterward. His father, for one.
When he’d first entered the Mayfair ballrooms six years earlier, he’d been ready to follow in his father’s footsteps. However, none of the ladies captured his heart. Some wanted more than the title of baroness and left him alone. Some wanted more money and good riddance. Some accepted him, but he found them lacking in one or more aspects.
Meanwhile, his friends were having far more fun. While searching for his true love, Philip had decided to have some fun for himself. And then he’d gone to war. Coming home for short periods of time left him no choice but to continue his disreputable behavior in brothels or with lonely widows, and sometimes, although against his better judgment, with willing young ladies of theton.
It was either that or be a monk, and he loved the female form too much to deny himself until marriage. After all, if someone thrust succulent peaches into his face, it would be rude not to take a bite.
Walking into the small darkened garden, he heard the familiar sounds of men and women enjoying themselves where they could. Smiling, he shook his head. Normally, that would be him, simply because he could and because it was harmless when both parties understood the rules.
Tonight, he was starting to believe it was time to grow up.
Miss Waltham had offered him such an opportunity, but he’d balked. Now he knew why. She was not Miranda Bright.If he chose her, would the magistrate forgive him his sordid reputation?
For certainly, Philip had taken the notion of ‘having fun’ to levels most of his friends had not. Moreover, by not hiding it, he’d allowed the newspapers to thrust every action in front of the public eye.
When he turned back to the house, he spied a couple in one of the rooms upstairs in a tight embrace and sighed.Was that all men and women thought about at these assemblies?Chuckling to himself, he returned to the ballroom with a purpose in mind.
Again, there was no Miranda, only Mrs. Cumbersome tapping her toe to the music. This time, he wasn’t alarmed. He’d helped her to become a sought-after dance partner, and he’d even heard her name on other men’s lips, discussing the rare flower who’d come in their midst this Season.
Now, Philip had a mind to pluck that flower and keep her for himself.Would she want a tarnished soul such as he?
