CHAPTER6
It occurred to Philip, as he sat down at the dinner table later that night beside Anna Walford, that George may have been trying to match him with one of his cousins, after all. If not Alicia, it seemed he would content himself with Anna—who, from the little Philip had gleaned of her, was very different from her singer cousin.
Nothing more easily set up a romance than errant looks over a candlelit table, arms brushing by accident, and of course, forced conversation.
And it was not as though George was being subtle about it. After having been introduced into the drawing room with the other guests, Philip had mingled with a few familiar faces.
No sooner had a genuinely interesting conversation begun at last than George appeared at his side with a pre-dinner glass of Negus. Likely trying to get him in an agreeable mood.
“Have you had a chance to speak with Anna yet?” George had asked, with about as much tact as Philip had come to expect from him. “She was asking about you before you arrived. Seemed genuinely interested in hearing war stories from you.”
“You and I both know that there is not a woman in the whole world who genuinely wants to listen to a man drone on about his service.” Philip sighed and took the glass from George, walking a little distance away from his group. They settled in a quiet corner of the drawing room. “But no, we haven’t spoken since our introduction. I can’t see why you would want me to seek her out. We have nothing in common.”
Except for the secret we share—which will remain a secret until I understand why she was so terrified of being seen last night.
“You could both use a friend,” George argued, shrugging his shoulders as if that was a usual remark.
“Are men and women in the business of being friends now? Before I left England, they kept a respectable distance from one another.” Philip smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Except when they didn’t.”
It was George’s turn to sigh. “You’re as bad as Simon—but at least you agreed to come tonight.”
Unlike hopelessly romantic George, Simon was a cosmopolitan to the core. He worshipped London, and now that he was a viscount, he was all too happy to continue living life as a successful singleton. Philip also planned to remain a bachelor, but he did not consider himself a rake like Simon, who wore the title like a badge of honor.
“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to attend the party and rub shoulders with your family,” Philip said. “You make for such a gracious, if Machiavellian, host.”
“Can a man not genuinely want to help his loved ones form connections that could make them happy?” George’s expression dropped. “We could all use happy connections at the moment. And it would make me happy to see you happy, and… I’m saying happy too much, aren’t I?”
“A few synonyms would not go amiss,” Philip suggested.
Of course, he knewwhyGeorge was so concerned with happiness.
George’s father had passed from consumption two years ago, and his mother had followed him to the grave shortly after. With his parents now dead, it stood to reason that he had leaned on his family for support and wanted the best for all of them—even though his new patriarch, Anna’s tyrannous father, had questionable morals.
George looked up again, his lips curling into a smile. “Fine. Perhaps you could not become friends with Anna. But that doesn’t mean you could not talk to her. She is like you in many ways. A bit of an outcast.”
“You seem to forget that I am an outcast by choice,” Philip corrected.
He had spent his fair share of nights, in his youth, dancing and socializing with thecrème de la crèmeof the English ton. And he had discovered that he did not like it.
It had been different at war, where friendships were necessary to stop oneself from going completely mad. In the cantonment, at night, he had welcomed the company of his fellow soldiers. But in England, back in reality, he had his three friends—now two friends—and that had been enough for him. By all accounts, London needed him more than he needed London.
“And so is she—a wallflower because she wants to be one.” George turned away from him, scanning the room, likely in search of Anna. “Which is why I thought you would get on swimmingly. She likes to keep to herself, to read. And frankly—if we must speak frankly—I think her parents would give her an easier time if she was seen socializing with someone of your rank.”
Philip bit his tongue, not mentioning that George had made the same comparisons and arguments in Alicia’s favor the night prior. Surely the two women weren’t that interchangeable.
“From what little I have seen of Lady Anna, she seems like a perfectly respectable young woman.” Philip took a sip of his drink, then clapped George on the shoulder. “I am not a respectable man. You are welcome to think what you will, but her parents would not look kindly on me taking her under my wing, no matter the grandeur of my title. Which is precisely why I shall keep my distance from her.”
Until the distance could not be kept, because George had seated them beside one another at the dinner table later that evening.
Philip arrived in the room first, thumbing his place card before looking over at hers. Her name, the one he had forgotten, was scrawled in an elegant hand on the place card beside his own. They stared up at him from the large mahogany table with an almost teasing air.
The dining room may havelookedlovely, with its wooden fixtures and deep purple wallpaper, but it was no better than a prison of George’s making. And Philip and Anna were his prisoners.
Those few minutes before dinner stretched on, and when Anna did appear beside him, he felt more than heard her. She came in with another woman and smiled at her friend as she went to her seat. When she glanced down, seeing their place cards, then looked up athim, all the color drained from her face.
“Lady Anna,” Philip said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “We meet again. Chance, it seems, would not see us apart for long.”
“Your Grace,” she just about managed, before the bang of the gong instructed them to take their seats.
