“Promise me that you will have fun at the dinner party tonight, and at the ball tomorrow,” Phoebe replied, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.
Joanna gasped. “Are you unwell, Sister?” She reached up to touch Phoebe’s brow. “You do not feel feverish.”
“I am not unwell, I just… want you to enjoy yourselves.” Phoebe chuckled, taking one of her sisters’ hands in hers, and squeezing them gently. “Within reason, of course.”
Joanna rolled her eyes playfully. “No, I was wrong, you are clearly quite well.”
“Come on,” Phoebe urged, pulling them up the steps. “Let us make our grand entrance before I change my mind.”
* * *
Phoebe kept waiting for Daniel’s presence to grate on her or dampen her mood, for some mischievous soul had decided to put them beside one another at the dinner table. It was a reasonable group of twenty or so—guests from further afield who would be staying until after the ball the following evening—but sitting so close to Daniel made the room and the assemblage of guests feel rather tiny, indeed. Yet, thus far, he had been the very example of courtesy and politeness.
“What did you make of the pigeon, Miss Wilson?” he asked as she dabbed a wayward drop of rich red wine sauce from her lips.
She set her napkin back across her lap and gestured to her empty plate. “Utterly horrid, as you can see. I could not bear to eat more than a mouthful.”
His eyes widened for a moment, a surprised smile brightening his unfairly handsome face. “Was that a jest, Miss Wilson?”
“A very small one,” she replied, her mood still soaring. “The pigeon was delicious. It has all been delicious, though I would expect nothing less from your mother’s choice of menu. She has exemplary taste.”
He laughed softly. “Yes, I daresay she does.”
“But, if I may, could I ask who prepared the seating arrangements?” Phoebe decided to tease him a little more, keeping to her promise of having some fun that evening.
He laughed again, more boldly this time. “You think someone is trying to play a trick on us, to force us to get along?”
“It does seem rather like interference,” Phoebe agreed, smiling.
He took a sip of his wine. “Actually, I made the seating arrangements.”
“Pardon?” She blinked in disbelief.
“Iwas the one who thought we should get along,” he replied. “I hope it has not been too uncomfortable.”
She reached for her own glass, taking a big gulp that very nearly brought on a choking fit. “No, it has not. I… imagine that I am as surprised as you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, choosing to maintain that air of playfulness. “Very sneaky, My Lord.”
“You are not angry?”
She shrugged. “I understand why you would think that is my natural state—a creature of endless fury, born with my fists curled in readiness for a fight—but, no, I am not angry. I am… enjoying myself.”
“Simply because you want to?” he pressed, making her stomach feel strange, as if the pigeon had not quite agreed with her.
She took another sip of wine. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“I inspired you?” The dark pools of his eyes drew her in until they were all she could see, the rest of the dining room fading into nothing.
“Actually, Anna did,” she hurried to say, looking away.
The room whirled back into being, the chatter of the other guests suddenly too loud. Anna herself was not there, for she was arriving with Matilda the following day, and Olivia and Leah were too far up the table to notice that Phoebe was panicking. Although, she did not knowwhyshe was panicking. Daniel did not scare her.
I must remember not to look too deeply into those eyes,she told herself, certain they were dangerous, indeed.
Daniel seemed disappointed. “How did Anna inspire you?”
“She told me to loosen the reins,” Phoebe explained, taking a moment to check on her sisters. They were sitting together on the opposite side, laughing and joking with one another, as ever.
Indeed, Ellen appeared to be performing a puppet show with her napkin to amuse Joanna, and while that ordinarily would have demanded an under-the-breath scolding or a sharp look at least, Phoebe swallowed the impulse.
