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Wedding Wagers(8)

By:Donna Hatch


He laughed softly and nodded to encourage her to continue.

"To the dismay of both husband and wife, they were obliged to wish them  off, thus making the third wish and at once ending his brilliant  expectations."

He grinned. "So, the moral of the story is don't waste your wishes?"

"Or avoid hypocrisy."

He nodded. "An ever more powerful moral."

They conversed more easily after that. Far too soon, dinner ended, and  the ladies left for the drawing room so the gentlemen might have their  time alone. Phillip waited with growing impatience until they could join  the ladies. Normally, he enjoyed the male-only after-dinner discussion,  but each minute seemed designed to keep him from the young lady who had  captured his attention and even a small part of his heart. Perhaps not  so small.

Once the men rejoined the ladies, Phillip went immediately to her. She  sat between her aunt and her cousin. Voices and laughter provided the  perfect screen to their conversation.

He held out an arm to her. "Miss Brown, would you do me the honor of taking a turn about the room with me?"

Her guarded expression returned, a foil against her aunt's delight and  her cousin's cautiously happy expression. At least he seemed to have won  over her family.

He lowered his voice and all but whispered, "Please."

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the nearest  wall. Skirting the edges of the room, they passed behind Miss Harris  sitting next to Mr. Morton, the same gentleman who had escorted Miss  Harris to Vauxhall. Miss Harris chewed her lip as Mr. Morton leaned  forward as if trying to convince her to do something.

Miss Brown gestured to the couple. "Do you know the gentleman conversing with Miss Harris?"

"Mr. Morton? Not well. He seems a decent sort. He's distantly related to the Earl of Averston."         

     



 

"Is he a libertine?"

"Hardly. He is rather awkward around the ladies, in fact."

"Is he impoverished?"

He gave her a quizzical look. Why the sudden interest in him? From what  Phillip knew of ladies and their taste of men, Mr. Morton was not the  type to turn heads. "I do not believe so, but as a younger son of a  younger son, he probably needs to marry well."

"What do you know about Miss Harris?"

"She's related to the St. Cyrs somehow. Sweet. A bit shy."

"Is she in possession of a large dowry?"

He had to search his memory. "I am not well informed as to the state of  everyone's incomes and dowries, but I do not recall hearing anything  remarkable about hers." Was it possible she had an interest in Mr.  Morton and viewed Miss Harris as competition? But Mr. Morton was all  wrong for Miss Brown. Surely she could see that. Finally, he ventured,  "Why do you ask?"

"I am looking for possible motives as to his interest in her."

"You do not think she is attractive enough to garner a gentleman's interest unless he is a fortune hunter?"

"I think she is young and innocent-the type of young lady such men are  most likely to target. She may not know their true motives until too  late." A bitterness touched her voice.

What had happened to Miss Brown? "Do you think I have a hidden motive?"

Her glance revealed her vulnerability. "I am mystified as to why you openly seek me out."

"I wish to become better acquainted."

"I cannot imagine why. I am nobody."

With a reckless courage spurred by his sudden determination to win her heart, he asked, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

She looked away. "No. Not anymore."

Phillip almost demanded who had broken her heart so he might find and  thrash the scoundrel. Instead, he opted for a more playful tone, "How  about love at second sight?"

With a small, sad smile, she shook her head.

With the kind of confidence he once wore so easily, he quipped, "I'm  willing to let you look at me long enough to change that." He affected a  dramatic pose.

A true smile broke through as she met his gaze. Truly, she was beautiful  when she smiled. He nearly fell on his knees and begged her to marry  him.

Sobering, she tilted her head. "Why, really, are you giving me the time of day?"

"Because you are a remarkable person."

She looked down. "We've met only twice before, and briefly at that."

"They were telling encounters."

She looked at him again, her mouth curving more on one side in an expression that seemed doubtful yet amused. "How so?"

"At the river, you retrieved Miss Harris's bonnet when no one else did,  not even the gentleman courting her. This tells me you are thoughtful  and caring and aren't overly concerned with society's opinion. Then you  gave a coin to an urchin. That tells me you are generous and aware of  others in need. But you didn't approach the alley, which suggests you're  intelligent enough to stay away from danger."

That day, she'd worn such a gentle, compassionate expression that  Phillip had been unable to look away. At the moment, however, her mien  retained that wariness he feared had become deeply ingrained. Somehow,  he would prove to her he was not of the same ilk as the unworthy man who  had hurt her.

He continued to expound on her admirable qualities. "And when Miss  Harris grew frightened, you told her a story to keep her distracted, so  you're clearly imaginative and quick thinking."

That day, she had been so animated in her role of storyteller that  Phillip had wanted to put his head in her lap and listen to her for  hours. He'd do it now, if she'd let him.

Now she watched him, carefully, as if seeking reassurance of his truthfulness.

Emboldened by her fixed attention, he said, "When you laughed instead of  getting angry or weepy about falling into the Thames, I knew your  character is strong and you are capable of finding humor even in  mishaps." Wryly, he added, "And you forgave me for causing you to fall  in, which speaks volumes about your heart. I prize these qualities."

They continued their slow stroll around the perimeter of the room. "I  thank you for your kind interpretation of my actions, but this does not  discount the fact that we are not social equals."

Phillip winced. If she were the daughter of a poor country vicar, or a  gentleman farmer, their differences in rank would be easier to overcome.  Could he convince Suttenberg and Mother to give their blessing?

"Regardless, I wish to become better acquainted with you. And to enjoy your companionship."         

     



 

Her hand tightened. "If you are looking for a mistress, I am not of that inclination."

He choked. "No, certainly not. I assure you, that is not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?"

With the courage that had spurred him to tackle every new challenge he'd  ever thought beyond him, he admitted, quietly, "To determine if you are  the one my soul seeks."

She stopped walking and looked into his eyes, all the hard edges in her  expression softening until she looked sweet and vulnerable. Had he  gotten through to her at all?

Her wariness returned. "Pretty words, but I have learned not to believe such things. Thank you for the turn about the room."

She withdrew her hand and left him standing in the middle of the floor. Alone.





Meredith tried and failed all evening to keep her focus on the game of  whist at the Daubreys' party. Mr. Partridge continued to invade her  thoughts. Each time she weakened enough to look at him, he met her gaze  with puzzled hurt. Her conscience gave her a sharp prod. Yet how could  she trust him when he might be no better than the cads who'd lied to her  in the past?

When the game ended and the guests stood or sat in groups talking and  laughing, Aunt Paulette leaned close and whispered, "He's fascinated  with you."

"He should know better," Meredith snapped.

"He's the very best ton, niece. Not only does he come from good family,  but he has a reputation for being a very decent gentleman."

"All the more reason for him not to be seen with me."

"Meredith," Aunt Paulette chided gently.

"Why on earth should I reach so high as the son of a duke? Not just any  ducal family-the Duke of Suttenberg. No one could bear the scrutiny of  being aligned with them."

Aunt Paulette nodded sadly. "You would fall under the all-seeing magnifying glass of London's worst social critics."

"If my father's profession didn't bring condemnation on my head, my past would. Sooner or later, it would be revealed."

"At least enjoy his company while you can. If you are seen with the  brother of the Duke of Suttenberg, others will assume you are worthy of  notice. This could be used to your advantage."

"I will not use him, just as I will not be used by him-or any man." Speaking of being used by a man, how did Miss Harris fare?

Meredith found her in a circle speaking with other young ladies her age.  Mr. Morton approached and tapped Miss Harris's shoulder. They spoke,  and he gestured to the balcony. Meredith straightened. Was he trying to  lure her outside and take advantage of her?