Page 46 of Sinfully Wed
“So, I’ve been told by the Duke of Ware.”
“Oh.” Miss Maplehurst clasped a hand to her throat. “His Grace has decided to attend this evening. How lovely for you to become acquainted given you have much in common. I thought Ware would be in the gardens plucking moths out of young lady’s coiffures. The ladies in question usually pretend great offense until they find him to be a duke. And unwed.”
“Ware?” Tamsin swallowed. “He’s here?”
“Oh, not the one whose nose you broke, dear.” Miss Maplehurst waved a hand. “Don’t scowl, everyone in London knows the tale. The youngest brother inherited. You can’t miss him. Oversized in the extreme. Broad. A little soft around the middle. His brothers are all…gone. Sadly.”
Tamsin paled slightly. “Gone.”
“A story for another time, perhaps.” A sad smile crossed Miss Maplehurst’s lips. “We must concentrate on you.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Maplehurst, there is a matter of some urgency I must see to.” Jordan bowed. “May I leave Lady Tamsin in your care?”
“Yes, be quick, my lord. And Lady Tamsin and I will do quite well.” She patted Tamsin’s arm once more. “I’ve so many interesting tidbits to relay to your sister. Useful things.” Her kind eyes held a shard of something brittle. “I’ll start with Lady Longwood, shall I?”
Chapter Eighteen
Odessa edged alongthe wall of Lady Curchon’s drawing room, popping up on her toes every so often to survey those around her. No sign of Captain Phillips. She wandered through each of the interconnecting rooms, some barren of furniture, the rugs rolled back for dancing, positive that Phillips had said he would be here tonight. The musicians were busy setting up behind a screen on the balcony, the sound of their instruments echoing above her. Turning back in the direction she’d come, Odessa caught sight of her aunt against the furthest wall, laughing uproariously.
A strikingly beautiful young woman stood at Aunt Lottie’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.
Her aunt had to cover her mouth to stifle the sounds of amusement.
Odessa didn’t recognize the girl, but that was no great surprise. She didn’t have any friends in society.
Next, Odessa wandered about the refreshment table. The small group of gentlemen who’d been here earlier had since dispersed. She glanced out the terrace doors, half afraid she’d see Phillips with another young lady, but his tall, lean form was not there either. Making her way back down the hall, Odessa stopped in her tracks. She composed herself. Smoothed her skirts. Snuck a look in the mirror hanging next to her on the wall.
Finally. Captain Phillips.
Phillips looked exceptionally dashing this evening, the red of his uniform standing out among the more sedate formalwear of the other gentlemen in attendance. He was tall. Lithe. Danced gracefully. She assumed his hands to be properly callused.
Best of all, Phillips was not the choice of Angus Whitehall.
Odessa stopped short, taking a moment to admire the man she meant to coax into possibly compromising her. Ruination might be the only way to secure a future not of her father’s making. She’d been so surprised to see him the other day outside the apothecary shop Odessa hadn’t properly taken his measure. A frown tugged at her lips as she took in the handsome captain.
Hadn’t Phillips been broader across the chest? She distinctly recalled his shoulders being…more muscular in nature. And his backside, as glanced from beneath Odessa’s lashes, wasn’t nearly as spectacular as she recalled.
Not at all as glorious as that of Emerson.
Odessa’s lips pursed into a tight, irritated rosette. She pushed aside all thoughts of Emerson and his magnificence. It didn’t signify. Tilting back her head, Odessa straightened her spine, so that her bosom jutted out in a fetching manner. Keeping her eyes focused as if intent on greeting someone on the other side of the room, she sauntered leisurely past Captain Phillips, making sure to show a bit of ankle.
“Miss Whitehall.”
Turning, Odessa pressed a hand to her mouth as if unduly surprised. “Why, Captain Phillips.” She tilted her chin, studying the close-cropped sandy hair, the too straight nose. He was in the military; surely, he’d brawled a time or two. Her glance fell to his hands. Gloved, of course.
Drat.
“Miss Whitehall, is aught amiss?” Captain Phillips bestowed a charming smile.
Flutter, she demanded of her heart which continued to beat at its normal pace, entirely unimpressed with Captain Phillips.
“Not at all. I was looking for my aunt.” She held out her hand. “How lovely to see you.”
His fingers curled around hers, squeezing gently.
Not so much as tingle.This was intolerable.
“You are a vision, Miss Whitehall. I confess, I didn’t expect to see you this evening.”
