Page 14 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl

‘Euripides?’

‘One well-read and loyal friend,’ she amended and allowed him to lead her into a practised and graceful swirl. Why did men always have to ruin friendship by imagining more? Why could they not be happy with less? She hoped George mightunderstand that after her refusal to take his offer seriously he should not make it again, though when his hand squeezed her own in a deliberate way she thought she might not be so lucky.

‘Lord Phillip Moreland, the Eighth Earl of Elmsworth.’

The name rang across the room just as the dance ended and the entire salon looked up at the grand staircase to one end. He was alone, dressed in black, a tall, dark-haired man with an air of aristocracy so easily discernible even from this distance.

‘Well, well. The lost Earl is here tonight and we can watch the Society mamas descend on him. It will be fascinating.’ Anna’s words were whispered as she and Freddie rejoined them, but all around the room similar sentiments were being expressed. Willa could only stand still and observe him, her heart beating fast and her teeth tightly clenched together.

If Phillip Moreland heard the gossip he gave an excellent impression of having no care at all for it as he moved forward to be surrounded by people wanting to speak with him.

Here, he was different, his place in Society cemented perhaps by his recent loss and his long absence. He looked in control too, smiling politely at all those who surged to be near him.

The air all around her was colder, the ease of the night sliding into fear. Would he see her? Would he say something or would he ignore her entirely?

He looked like the veritable definition of a high and mighty lord and one with whom she had nothing in common at all.

Reaching out for a fluted glass of champagne from a passing servant, she drank it quickly, needing the fortification to relax her and enable a smile. She would leave as soon as she was able to go without comment, and next time she saw him she would be able to manage a lot better.

Phillip remembered all the things he had hated about London Society as he came down the stairs. The gossip. The expectations. The matrons who eyed him as a prize for their daughters. Gretel had largely protected him from it all when he was here last but with her gone… He was engulfed by the crowd that swelled around him as he reached the bottom step.

The invitation to the Wilsons’ ball had come unexpectedly and he’d felt it was probably time to make some sort of an effort to participate again in the world he’d been born to. Still, this whole journey into London seemed misguided and he wished he’d stayed in Hampshire, away from it all.

Tobias Wilson, the Earl of Hammond, was suddenly there, his sister beside him.

‘It is good to see you again, Elmsworth, though I was sorry to hear the news of your wife.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But we are very honoured that you decided to grace our ball as your first outing back in Society.’

Phillip smiled, not because the thought pleased him but because it was expected. The prodigal son coming home, so to speak, after a long time in the wilderness.

‘And things have changed in your absence, although by all accounts it seems you have returned to an estate that has prospered without you.’

‘My brother’s good choices. The manager Oliver put in place at Elmsworth is more than competent.’

‘A fortunate happenstance, then, for others have not been anywhere near as lucky when they have forsaken all responsibility and ventured elsewhere.’

The sentiment was loud and clear and Phillip remembered why he had never been that fond of Tobias Wilson. He’d been a jealous, difficult youth and had grown into the same sort of man.

His sister, Miss Clementine Wilson, placed her hand on his sleeve.

‘There has been much talk about when you would appear in London for the season, Lord Elmsworth. We all knew you were finally back, of course, but no one had seen you. Are you planning on staying in the city for long?’

‘Just a few days. I have some business with my lawyer to attend to and after that I will return to Hampshire.’

A servant bearing a tray approached them and he took a glass of champagne. He needed fortification in a room such as this and gratefully took a sip.

‘It is French,’ Clementine said. ‘My brother has it brought over especially.’

‘Then he has good taste in fine wines. From memory, the Hammonds had some interests in the vineyards of northwestern France. I am presuming they still have them.’

Tobias had rejoined their conversation and began to laugh. ‘You were always surprising people at school with your recall, Phillip. Do you remember that card game we used to play, the one where you had to match the images, and you always came out on top? Benjamin Harcourt thought you had marked the cards until he got hold of another pack and you beat us all just as convincingly. God, those were the days, were they not, when we were young and free and the world was at our feet, no problems anywhere in sight? Benjamin is here tonight somewhere, though God knows how long he will stay, for he is known for leaving every social event as early as he is able to and creeping back to Richmond.’

Interested, Phillip looked around in an attempt at locating his old friend, and frowned as he saw Mrs Wilhelmina St Claire on the other side of the room, a strange feathered cap on her head and a gown a few shades lighter than the green on the salon walls. The group around her were animated and she wasreaching now for a glass of the same champagne he’d just been commenting on.

When her eyes caught his she looked away first, colour washing into her cheeks, her jaw held tight and her fingers grasping the fluted glass with fervour.