The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell(26)
Her eyes widened, and he watched in fascination as she tried to erect her wall of coldness. He decided to topple it before she succeeded.
“I am twenty-eight,” he declared. “And I, too, must lack noble sensibilities since I don’t subscribe to the stilted nature of British society, either. I’ve had three mistresses, and several lovers of whom I have not, and will not, speak, as I hold the utmost respect for all women.”
Phillipa spluttered at this bold confession, staring at him aghast. “I—”
He grinned back at her. “Hmm. I didn’t think you capable of being shocked. Didn’t you say you like living on the edge?”
Her eyes narrowed. Then a rueful smile curved her lips. “You are incorrigible, my lord.”
“I decided I must inform you of my own licentiousness before you would tell me about whatever happened in Boston to darken your eyes so. Now that you know all my secrets, I am waiting to hear yours.”
Her laughter tinkled, and she shook her head, dismissing him. “I believe I have no secrets from you, Anthony.”
He was intrigued more by the naked need he saw on her face than anything else. No, her body kept no secrets from him. But it was her soft laugh that truly stirred him—fresh, crisp, and utterly captivating.
He wanted to give her everything she desired, and more. The compulsion burned deeply and powerfully.
He would have her. And soon.
…
Phillipa had to admit that Anthony was an amazing dancer, his movements embodying raw masculine power and beauty. He swung her, and she swiveled, and the heat of his hands on her lower back, burned through her gown. Just being held in his arms was sinfully delicious.
The next waltz started, and she was thrilled when he did not relinquish her. He was dancing with me twice?
She felt the eyes of assembled guests upon them, and for this moment in time, she cared not one jot what they thought.
She tried to ignore his questioning that hinted she might have a truly disgraceful past, but he was having none of it. So she relented, and gave him a half-truth.
“I distressed my family by attending women’s rights conventions and meetings. I think they feared my wild ways would have led to my disastrous downfall. My aunt recommended dancing to soothe my excessive passion—or so she told my father.”
“You chose to focus your passion on dancing. Pity.”
She probed his features to ascertain his meaning. “I adore dancing, and I find it to be the only thrilling thing offered to women by society. The restrictions heaped on young ladies are frightful,” she declared.
Her curiosity about him drummed at her, but she reined in the questions that buzzed insistently in her head. He had several secret lovers of whom he didn’t speak, so their scandalous actions in the garden were safe from the gossips?
“Restrictions do not exist in Boston?”
“I daresay they do.” Rueful laughter spilt from her lips. “However, the pretense is more subdued. I could have wed a banker or a lawyer back home, and I would have brought my family esteem. Here, my aunt is appalled at the mere notion. There, I could attend a picnic without the need for a chaperone. Here, to visit my dear friend Lady Elisabeth, my aunt insists I travel with a ladies’ maid and a footman at all times. The most ridiculous thing is, it is not for my protection, but because it is appalling for a young lady to be seen walking alone. Well, a virtuous female, at any rate.” She could not prevent the incredulity that rang in her tone.
He pursed his lips. “And this is what you seek to be free from?”
“False propriety, yes. It all seems incredibly pretentious, don’t you agree?” Phillipa smiled at the surprise that etched his features. “I had already felt suffocated in Boston, and now in London, I am truly fit for Bedlam. It is a daunting task to understand what is acceptable by the haute monde and what isn’t.”
Her inquisitiveness drummed even louder. He had not reacted to her sweeping statements like Hoyt and Elisabeth. Perhaps there was hope for a kindred soul, after all.
“Worse, there is nothing here to dazzle the senses,” Phillipa ventured cautiously, watching Anthony’s expression.
“I am sure there must be other pleasures that rouse your interest.” He returned the intensity of her gaze.
“I find London society exceedingly dull,” she assured him.
He seemed to deeply consider her. “And what is it that will lift this banality for you?”
There was no hesitation in her response. “Freedom.”
A frown creased his forehead. “Are you not free? Where are your shackles?”
“The shackles of society are invisible, but they are there, as surely as irons.”