Page 26 of Her Infuriating Earl
“No, no,” Phoebe interjected, her cheeks warm with contentment, “your sides ached for weeks because you attempted to keep pace in a country dance with Lord Newbury.”
The room exploded with laughter, for it was nationally acknowledged that Lord Newbury was the most exuberant of dance partners, leaping twice as high as everyone else, jumping like a madman when just a slight hop was required, and forever spinning in circles that left everyone dizzy.
Leah began a round of applause, throwing her head back as she reveled in her friend’s jest. “I wish I could say that was not true!” she wheezed. “But it is!”
It was unfamiliar to Phoebe, to be the center of attention. And as she shyly glanced around the room, glowing as red hot as a poker at the sight of so many enjoying her humor, she wondered if shehadkept the reins too tight on herself all these years. Even Joanna and Ellen were laughing and looked so proud of her that she thought, for a horrifying moment, that she might cry right there in the drawing room.
But then, she saw Daniel, not even a hint of a smile on his face, and felt the knock as she was bumped back into reality. She was not supposed to be the center of attention, she was not supposed to be distracting these fine people. Joanna and Ellen were meant to be shining, not her.
Phoebe jolted as she felt a hand take hers.
“Ignore him,” Amelia said, flashing her a discreet wink. “He has been in one of his moods all week. Do not let him dampen yours, not when I am having such a wondrous time in your company.”
Phoebe smiled. “He does not like me very much.”
“Is that so?” Amelia gave Phoebe’s hand a light squeeze. “No, I do not think that can be true.”
“I promise, it is.”
Amelia nodded slowly. “And why is that? Is it the gowns?”
“You know about those?” Heat rushed once more into Phoebe’s cheeks, worried that Amelia might think her foolish.
Of course, it wasnotabout that, but she also could not explainwhythey were constantly at one another’s throats whenever they met, so her only reasoning would have to be the ruined gowns.
Amelia chuckled. “I do, and I have insisted on him replacing them, though I suspect he has not yet.” She gestured toward Phoebe’s dress. “But I must say, my dear,thatis far more beautiful than anything you see young ladies wearing these days. You can see the quality. Was it your mother’s?”
“It was, and I do hope she will forgive me for altering it,” Phoebe replied.
“Of course, she will.” Amelia’s voice caught. “Wherever she is, she will be glad that it is being worn again. No gown should stay hidden away, never to see the light of day. For one thing, it is morbid. For another, it is a waste of excellent material.”
Phoebe brightened, grateful for Amelia’s generous, soothing demeanor. “How did you know my mother is not with us anymore?”
“Because you have taken up the mantle,” Amelia replied softly. “I can see it in you, and in the way you care for those sisters of yours. A wisdom greater than your years, a tenderness that only a mother possesses, and a fire that is only born of struggle.”
For the second time, Phoebe feared she might burst into tears. With no one to mother her, she had forgotten what it felt like to be seen, to be commended, to be told that she was doing a good job.
Amelia paused. “You do not want my son to marry your sister, do you?”
“Pardon?”
Panic spiked through Phoebe’s chest. Indeed, she had been having such a wonderful time that the fact she was playing cards with Daniel’s mother had escaped her.
Amelia smiled. “I am not going to scold you, child. I am not going to judge you or ask you why, for I know you must have your reasons, and good ones. That is part of what I see in you. That wisdom I spoke of.” She sighed, taking a large sip of her drink. “In truth, I am not fond of the notion either.”
“You are not?” A foolish prickle of offense bristled inside Phoebe.
Amelia must have seen it, for she laughed. “It is no fault of your sister’s. She is very lovely indeed, but I suspect you want a love match for her, as any mother would want for their daughter.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I understand your apprehension, and am agreeing with it, so take heart. It is a simple case of she is not right for him, and he is not right for her.”
Phoebe relaxed. “And if neither of them heed our wishes?”
“They will,” Amelia said, with the confidence of a woman who had seen it all before, several times over. “Once the sheen of novelty dulls, they will see what we see. Besides, I think my son—”
Whatever she had been about to say was drowned out by the loud, brash announcement of, “Ladies and Gentlemen, what have I missed?” that followed a figure through the drawing room door. A very familiar figure. One that Phoebe had last seen standing in the terrace doorway at Bergfield Manor, proclaiming, “I do not chase.”
The Baron of Harburgh had arrived, and one look at Ellen’s swooning face told Phoebe that she now had a much larger problem to contend with: two sisters and two suitors, and the fight of her life to keep them apart.
CHAPTERTWELVE
