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Story: A Season of Romance

“I think you must accept, don’t you? It seems a particular honor. You heard and saw that woman. Becoming a member of the Phoenix Club is important to one’s standing.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. There are those who say it’s beneath them, that to have a club that accepts both men and women, even if they are mostly separated, is beyond the pale.”

Fiona nearly snorted. She could think of many things that were beyond the pale, and this was not one of them. “Well, I can’t become a member because I am unwed. I would argue that is beyond something, if not the pale.”

“My brother hasn’t been invited, and he’s the heir. Isn’t that strange?”

“I’m not sure it is. It seems they invite very specific people—or not—and one must assume they have a good reason.” She slowed. “Is it a they? Or does Lord Lucien make all the decisions?”

“From my understanding, there is a committee.” He lowered his voice. “The Star Chamber.”

Fiona briefly pressed her hand to her lips and met his gaze. “They don’t really call themselves that.”

He shook his head. “That’s what others call them.”

“Those who aren’t invited, I’d wager.” The Star Chamber was not exactly a favorable term. It also inferred secrecy. “Who is on this committee?”

“No one knows for sure, but Lord Lucien is obviously a member since he owns the club. Or one would assume anyway.”

“I think that’s a fair assumption. The rest are secret?”

“The ladies’ side has four patronesses, and it is also presumed they are on the committee.”

“Who are these patronesses?” Fiona wondered if they could be petitioned to somehow allow her and Cassandra entry to a ball. Perhaps one of them would be willing to act as a sponsor. She had no idea if any of that was even possible, but why not try?

“Mrs. Renshaw is one of them. She oversees the ladies’ side in much the way Lord Lucien manages the gentlemen’s. Lord Lucien explained that much to me last evening.”

Mrs. Renshaw. Fiona would speak with Cassandra about her as soon as possible.

“I think you should feel flattered that you’ve been invited,” Fiona said.

He didn’t immediately respond. She looked at his profile, his long, dark blond lashes sweeping down as he blinked.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I suppose I do.

I am not, ah, typically at the top of anyone’s list when it comes to social opportunities.

” A faint shade of pink briefly swathed his upper cheekbones.

“I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to you. ”

“Nonsense, I’m glad you did. I can wholeheartedly understand your position. I may be the ward of an earl, but I’m from a small village in Shropshire, and I’ve never been anywhere before. Then yesterday I was presented to the queen.”

“That’s quite an advancement.” He grinned at her, and she acknowledged he was rather handsome. “This is really my first Season too. I’ve spent the last several years teaching at Christ Church College at Oxford.”

“How fascinating. What did you teach?”

“Religious studies. I’m intending to become a vicar, though my father hopes I’ll be a bishop one day.”

“Do you want that?”

The pink returned to his cheeks. “Honestly? Yes.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I admitted that to you. It’s rather immodest, isn’t it?”

She laughed. “No, it is not. Ambition isn’t bad, even for a man of God.”

“God might disagree,” he said drily.

“Except I’m sure your ambition is entwined with your desire to advance the word of God.”

“The Phoenix Club is a distant second to you when it comes to flattery, Miss Wingate.” He sent her a slightly sardonic look. “Perhaps I’m the type of religious man who only wants to find a living so that I may reap the benefits and will employ a curate who does all the work.”

“Well, that sounds like the vicar in Bitterley.” Fiona thought of poor young Tom Keeble, the curate.

The vicar didn’t do a thing beyond sermonizing, and he only did that once a month, leaving the rest to Tom.

“I realize we just met, but I can’t see you doing that.

And if you did, you certainly wouldn’t admit it.

Nor would you think twice about accepting membership in London’s most exclusive club. ”

He laughed. “You are a most logical young lady, Miss Wingate.”

“Why thank you, my lord.”

Fiona’s gaze connected with a familiar pair of pewter eyes. Lord Overton stood to her left, his attention focused wholly on her. His expression was inscrutable, but something about his stance made her catch her breath.

Why?

Recovering her wits, she smiled at him and lifted her hand, not quite waving.

“See someone you know?” Lord Gregory asked.

“My guardian, Lord Overton. Are you acquainted with him?”

Lord Gregory shook his head. “I am not, but being relatively new to town, there are many people I haven’t yet met.”

“If you accept the invitation to the Phoenix Club, you will undoubtedly get to know him there. He’s a member, and a close friend of Lord Lucien’s.” She looked over at him. “Are you going to accept?”

“I think I might, owing to your counsel.”

“I don’t think you’ll regret it.” Fiona noted the musicians were preparing to start the next set.

“I think it’s time we made our way to the dance floor,” Lord Gregory noted.

She hesitated, casting him an apologetic glance. “I should warn you that I’m not very good.”

He didn’t appear concerned in the least. “I’m sure you’re more than accomplished.”

“Aside from only recently learning most of these dances, I am apparently clumsy, a trait I hadn’t noticed before coming to London.”

He led her onto the dancefloor. “Surely you’re mistaken. Or exaggerating.”

She let go of his arm and faced him. Arching her brow, she looked him square in the eye. “I fell down yesterday while curtseying to the queen.”

His eyes rounded with horror. “That was you?”

Of course, he’d heard the story. Fiona had noticed people staring at her tonight.

“It was indeed.”

“And here you are tonight without a shred of embarrassment. You are a most astonishing young woman, Miss Wingate.”

Smiling, she inclined her head. “I hope you still think so at the end of the set.”

It was the best she’d ever danced. She looked graceful and confident, and, most importantly, like she was having a grand time. So did her partner. Tobias diverted his attention from her and made his way to Lucien, who was standing with Miss Lancaster.

“Not dancing this set?” Lucien asked. “I expected you to have a full dance card.”

“Allow me to just get it out and show you,” Tobias said sarcastically. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Lucien let out a laugh. “I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that. Why are you in a mood?”

Was he? Tobias stroked his hand down his jawline. “I see you introduced Lord Gregory to Miss Wingate.”

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?” Lucien stared at him as if he’d gone daft.

Tobias glanced toward Miss Lancaster, who would likely repeat anything she overheard to Miss Wingate. Smiling, he begged her to excuse them before motioning to Lucien to walk with him.

“What’s going on with you?” Lucien asked as they left Miss Lancaster.

“I don’t want to discuss Miss Wingate in front of her companion.

I assumed that would be obvious.” Tobias waved his hand.

“There’s been a change in plan. I’m not pushing my ward into marriage.

As you so helpfully suggested the other night, I’m giving her a break from this sudden turmoil in her life. ”

“Is this because she fell down in the queen’s drawing room yesterday?”

Tobias heard the humor in his voice and sent him a glower. “That was very traumatic.” Except she was laughing about it now, so perhaps it wasn’t. “But no, it’s not because of that. Not specifically.” He brushed his fingertips across his forehead.

“You’ve come to like Miss Wingate very much,” Lucien remarked softly. “That’s very kind of you to give her a reprieve—just the opposite of what your father would do, in case you hadn’t already noted that.”

“I hadn’t, but that does endorse the change in tactic, doesn’t it?” Tobias came to a stop and pivoted to face the dance floor where dozens of dancers were moving in concert, including Miss Wingate. “For now, it’s best that I focus on my own marriage goals instead of Miss Wingate’s.”

“Your time is dwindling, isn’t it?”

Tobias shot him another dark stare. “Thank you for pointing that out.” He scanned the ballroom and found Miss Goodfellow lingering in the corner with her mother.

Good, he’d ask her to dance when he finished with Lucien.

Looking to his friend, he asked, “What was the name of the widow you suggested to me?”

“Lady Alford, but she’s already accepted a proposal. Lord Pettiford got there first, I’m afraid.”

“That was bloody fast.”

“Perhaps you should consult with Lord Pettiford for advice on how to move more quickly.”

Annoyed, Tobias stared at Lucien. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t haul you into the garden and plant you a facer.”

“Because I’ll give you one right back, and then you’ll be horribly unattractive to your prospective brides.” Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying needling Tobias about his wife hunt.

With a low grunt, Tobias started to turn. “Your company has been most helpful this evening. I’m off to speed up my endeavors.”

Lucien snagged his sleeve. “Wait just a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Exhaling, Tobias gave him his full attention.

“Cassandra has asked me to invite our aunt to the Phoenix Club so that she may act as sponsor for Cassandra to attend a ball. And for Miss Wingate, since Lady Pickering has never responded to our invitation.” He spoke in a near whisper, and Tobias moved closer so no one would overhear their conversation.

“Should we be discussing this in a ballroom?” Tobias asked softly. Who was and wasn’t invited to the Phoenix Club was a topic of great debate and inquiry. Anyone overhearing even a snippet of this conversation would most certainly crow about it.

Lucien lowered his voice even more. “No, but it’s an urgent matter.”

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