Page 45 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl

‘The Lord of the Underworld seemed an appropriate disguise, Lady Duggan. My father’s ceramic mask obviously did not fool you.’

‘You have the old Earl’s height and your mother’s beauty. It was easy for me to see the man beneath.’

Astonished, Phillip kept silent. He could not remember that about his mother but this small truth was welcomed.

‘Oliver has it, too. The same fineness. Miranda was a friend of mine at school and she would have been proud of you both had she been here today.’

He bit down on a reply, given all that had happened between him and his mother, but Lady Duggan was not yet finished.

‘Second chances are not for the faint of heart, though I have always been of the mind everyone deserves to fashion their own course in life.’

Willa had said as much to him. And Gretel on her deathbed had made him promise that he would go home to England and be happy. Could such a choice be possible? Even with his questionable reputation he felt hopeful, an emotion so unfamiliar it stunned him.

‘Thank you, Lady Duggan.’

‘You are welcome.’

Wilhelmina was next to him now. She had been prickly with him all evening but at least she had stuck to her word and helped him navigate the rumours.

‘Tonight is turning out just as we hoped it would.’ He said this softly to her and meant it.

‘Bearding the lion in its lair has its advantages, and the sooner you do so the less the rumours escalate.’ She looked directly at him.

‘Are you speaking from experience?’

‘I am. When I first arrived in London there were many tales that were not exactly favourable about me. But I learnt that hiding makes everything so much worse because imagination is limitless.’

‘I cannot imagine you hiding from anything, Wilhelmina.’

He felt her shock and saw the rush of questions.

She was breathless, here in the room full of others, here with him before her with his cut face and bruised eyes. Despite their differences she wanted to touch those wounds, to simply reach out and wipe away all of his hurt, to feel his warmth against her fingers, and to see him smile.

She could not believe the strength of such a want either, after his insults of the other day and their distance ever since.

‘Will you dance with me?’

She was unsure if she should, her body like a tuning fork vibrating to his words. Surely if he touched her he would feel it too? But she could not refuse without looking churlish.

She was thankful for her gloves as she laid her fingers against his arm and he led her to the floor, past those who watched them, past the gossip. She knew she was not a young girl of the first water, her age and looks counting against her, but tonightshe felt beautiful, in her deep blue dress and partnered by a man who was unmatched in all of London’s Society.

Her moment. Here and now. She would not diminish it and when the music began she faced him in the waltz.

He held her close, his movements small and careful, as if he were counting the steps so that he made no mistake.

‘I seldom came to balls,’ he confessed after a moment or so. ‘Gretel never liked them and I was such a poor dancer I was pleased that she didn’t.’

‘I think you are doing well.’

He smiled. ‘Now I know that you lie.’

‘Well, a competent dance partner was never at the top of any list of mine.’

‘What was at the top of your list?’

‘Kindness. Strength. Honesty. Delight.’

‘A varied menu?’