“Are you enjoying the evening, my lord?” Delia asked the marquess, having been schooled very well in the social art of small talk. There was a suspiciously starry look in her eyes and Phin hoped the girl was smart enough not to fall in love with the first handsome man she encountered.
The marquess replied stiffly, “Indeed.” Then his attention shifted past them as he muttered with a touch of relief, “Ah, here they are.”
There was a soft swish of silks and satins as two more ladies joined their group, forcing some of the original cluster of ladies to step aside or wander off.
“My cousins,” the marquess noted. “Lady Lydia Balcombe andMiss Bridget Martindale. Although Lady Lydia was presented last year,” the marquess explained, “Miss Martindale is making her debut this year, as well.”
Phineas observed from the side as introductions were made all around. Miss Martindale, a pretty girl with dark hair and warm brown eyes smiled effusively, clearly caught up in the excitement of her first season. The other young lady, however, was decidedly more subdued as she offered a polite smile that didn’t quite disguise the air of boredom in her manner.
He was feeling a moment of empathy for Lord Redington having to be responsible fortwodebutantes when the marquess looked up once again. “And my sister, Lady Eleanor Fairchild.”
Phineas glanced to the woman who’d stepped up beside her brother and was nearly knocked off his feet.
Lady Eleanor was stunning.
She had thick black hair, a warm, golden complexion, and dark eyes that sparkled with depth. Her profile was elegant and strong while her lips were generously curved and tinted a dusky shade of rose that almost perfectly matched her gown.
Phin was certain he’d never seen a woman so astoundingly beautiful in his life. But it was more than her beauty that stopped his breath and caused the rapid racing of his blood. When her gaze flickered to his, he felt intrinsically…altered. He couldn’t attempt to explain it, but there was something in her tentative stare…in her trembling attempt at a smile…and the sweep of her sooty lashes that felt criticallyimportantto him.
The sensation was very reminiscent of the exact, elated moment of some vital discovery occurring at the same time as a deep recollection of intuitive familiarity.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
To conceal his stunned reaction, he immediately offered a respectful bow, but when he straightened, he was surprised to note that thewoman was staring at him with a rather frozen expression. Her eyes were stark and impenetrable and her lips parted just slightly to take a swift breath that seemed to hold with no exhale.
The lady detested him. That, or she was terrified. Neither response made any sense.
He arched a brow in silent question.
Without offering even a mumbled acknowledgment of the introduction, the woman promptly turned away to whisper something to Lady Lydia, who then turned to Lord Redington. “Cousin, we’re going to get some lemonade. We shall be back in a moment.”
The marquess frowned, as though trying to determine if he’d allow it, but Delia spoke first. “A lemonade sounds heavenly, might I join them, Mother?”
“Oh, there’s no need to interrupt your conversation with Lord Redington,” Maggie replied with a wide smile. “Your uncle can escort the young ladies to the refreshment table and fetch you a glass while he’s there.”
Oddly, Phineas wasn’t annoyed by his sister’s tendency to try to manage and maneuver him as she desired. He had no doubt she was privately beaming at the fact that she not only had Redington’s attention on Delia, but she’d also committed Phineas to the company two eligible ladies for the next fifteen minutes at least.
Lady Eleanor’s shoulders tensed sharply at the suggestion. But it was too late. Delia turned to him with a smile nearly as wide as her mother’s. “Would you mind terribly, Uncle Phin?”
“Not at all,” he replied and his ready capitulation caused his sister to eye him suspiciously, which only pleased him more.
Maggie couldn’t know that Lady Eleanor had managed to spark his curiosity. And unfortunately, curiosity was his greatest motivator—and some would say his greatest flaw.
By the time he turned to follow the young women he was tasked with escorting, he was surprised to find they’d already disappearedinto the crowd. If he had to wager, he’d say they’d intentionally tried to lose him. Having traversed far more treacherous territory in his life than a crushing ballroom, Phin was undaunted.
Overcoming insurmountable challenges was one of his favorite pastimes.
Chapter Three
Eleanor could feelLydia’s concerned glance as they made their way to the refreshment room. She was grateful that her astute cousin wouldn’t demand an explanation for Eleanor’s desperately murmured plea for escape. Because if she did, Eleanor would have no response since she herself couldn’t comprehend what had just happened…
Risking a glance over her shoulder, Eleanor saw the Viscount Waring only a few paces behind them despite their swift progression through the ballroom. And instantly, that same sensation washed through her like a tidal wave, closing off her ability to breathe, jolting her heart into a reckless pace.
Up until a moment ago, she’d actually started to believe she might make it through this Season without unduly embarrassing herself. Though the evening had been filled with awkward, painful, tense, and silent moments, she’d survived them. It helped, of course, that many people recalled how unpopular she’d been last year and very few had approached or attempted to engage with her directly. And having Bridget as an enthusiastic distraction was honestly a godsend.
But then…she’d been introduced to Lord Waring. And every bit of self-assurance she’d managed to convince herself of had gone up in a whoosh of icy flames.
The second she’d met the man’s bold, bright, and penetrating stare, a blast of intense awareness claimed her, altering the flow of herblood and heightening the sensitivity of her nerves. More than her usual discomfort at being under someone’s assessing stare, this had been distinctly different…undeniablymore. More acute. More sharply intimate. More panic inducing. For a moment, it had felt as though the man could see straight through the social graces she employed like a sort of armor to the truth at the center of her very soul.
