Page 43 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl
When the cake and tea came the talk became more general but Willa missed the sharp and clever conversation from before.
Willa did consider not going altogether. She could still send an apology saying that she was ill or indisposed and yet here she was about to be dressed in the most beautiful gown she owned because tonight she had to appear as the sort of woman Phillip Moreland, the eighth Earl of Elmsworth, might genuinely choose to spend a dance or two with.
To run would lead to questions on his behalf and would incite more conjecture about her motives and so she bathed in lavender water and her maid fashioned her long hair into a soft style of tumbling curls. The dark blue dress she had donned was both sensual and classical and the small matching hat was cleverly fashioned.
She wore rings on her fingers and a necklace of diamonds at her throat and she allowed her maid to colour her lips and apply light blush to her cheeks.
‘You look the most beautiful I have ever seen you appear, miss,’ her lady’s maid said when they both took in her image in the full-length mirror. And in all honesty Wilhelmina was inclined to agree. Her own taste was far more eclectic and out of step with the modern style. This gown, hairstyle and jewellery fitted in exactly, right down to the pale kid leather slippers on her feet.
She looked perfect. Money helped. Under the chandeliers her diamond necklace would sparkle and the material in both her gown and hat was of the finest Belgium lace.
Like the knights of old bedecked in their armour she was ready to do battle, though the small niggle of why worried her. Phillip Moreland was not one to be trifled with and yet he was the first man she had ever felt drawn towards. This feeling was inexplicable and foolish, given his reaction to their kiss, but it was none the less the truth. Taking in a breath, she made herself smile.
When she arrived at the Kellands’ town house she saw the Earl exiting his carriage right behind her, surprise in his eyes as he took in her appearance, a message of appreciation darkening the blue. His own clothing was of an understated finery, a black jacket and trousers of thin wool and a white shirt with a necktie that was neither foppish nor insubstantial. The wounds on his face were remarkably recovered in the five days since she had seen him, the stitches removed from his cheek and his eyes much less swollen.
In his hand he held out a small bouquet of flowers, the fat, creamy buds nestled within the shiny green of a few leaves.
‘The perfume you use is made up of gardenias and I thought you would enjoy these.’
‘Thank you.’ Such a genuine gift almost put the stamp of authenticity on their outing and she had to remind herself tonight this was just a ploy and a way to beat the Ton at their own game while simultaneously protecting the ancient title of Elmsworth.
Tucking the floral tribute into the top fold of her small bag, she allowed him to lead her inside.
Like a fairy tale.
Like Cinderella finally going to her ball.
Except she did not wear glass slippers and her Prince Charming wanted very little to do with her.
Phillip understood the Ton as Wilhelmina did not. He knew of Society members’ propensity to cut each other down in order to elevate themselves and he knew that his past arrogance would also count against him. On the surface there would be politeness but underneath a darker tone would linger. He hoped Wilhelmina might understand the reality of things, too.
She was beautiful, and that was a point in their favour. She was also very clever, which might not be so helpful, for the kingpins of Society had no wish to bow down to the intelligence of a woman who had neither elevated lineage nor family history on her side.
Mrs St Claire was a jigsaw puzzle and a far more formidable opponent than anybody here may have yet realised. It would be an interesting night ahead but she was right in her summation of his want to quit Society on his own terms, and although he had no love for the theatrics of the Ton he did not wish to be shoved off without choice either.
He liked the way she laid her hand on his arm as if she needed to be ready.
‘This won’t be easy.’ He said this softly.
‘Oh, I think we have both been through far worse.’
Joseph Kelland was the first to meet them. ‘Elmsworth,’ he said with an inflection of question. ‘It seems you have been in the wars in more ways than one.’ His glance then rested on Wilhelmina. ‘Mrs St Claire.’
‘Your house looks very beautiful tonight, my lord.’
A sincere compliment which made Kelland smile as he brought his wife forward. ‘Mrs St Claire was just saying how lovely the house appeared, my dear, and as it is mostly your doing I thought you should be the one to hear it first.’
‘You are more than kind.’
As she went on to describe to Wilhelmina the details of getting everything ready Joseph Kelland pulled him aside.
‘I did not think you would make an appearance tonight, Elmsworth. There are whispers all over Society about your poor behaviour and those of good sense and conservative values are not pleased.’
‘Which is why I am here to state my side of things.’
‘Indeed, and you are right to come and stand your ground but I am warning you because some might not be eager to listen.’
‘I shall be careful. I hope my presence here will not cause problems for you.’