Chapter Three
The next morning
Phaedra poked herhead through the door of the pink drawing room and peeked down the hall to where a light buzzing sound came to the fore and rippled throughout the lower level of the house. There were two drawing rooms on the lower level, one where they received guests—the purple drawing room—and the other where the family lazed about reading, playing piano, and embroidering. The room embodied comfort. Papers were strewn over the table, books were piled up on the floor, and a quilt was carelessly flung over the back of one of the sofas.
A haven.
Unlike the other room.
A shiver ran down her spine.
That buzzing sound was the drone of sixteen men in conversation.
Fortune-hunters.
How did she know this? Well, of course, the Sharp women made it their business to be informed about every fortune-seeking fellow in London.
And the men in the receiving room refused to leave. Phaedra was in no mood for shallow compliments and syrupy falsehoods. She could chase out one or two at a time, but sixteen? She hadn’t mastered the art yet.
Still, something about this congregation did not sit right with her. Never had there been so many suitors calling on her at the same time. The most she had endured had been eight, perhaps nine, callers.
Something must have happened. Something they hadn’t been made aware of yet.
She glanced over to Millie, her maid, and gave her a panicked look. “What is going on? Why do I have half the gold-digging scoundrels in London at my door?”
“I cannot say, my lady. The gentlemen started arriving about an hour ago. Some have left.”
“There weremore?”
Millie nodded.
“Certainly Mama cannot expect me to greet all of them at once?”
But she could, which was why Phaedra was hiding in the pink drawing room.
And it would be impolite not to receive them, no matter their reason for calling. Downright rude. And a lady ought never to be rude. She snorted. What would be the point of entertaining a mob of gentlemen she had no intention of wedding? No, Phaedra didn’t care how ill-mannered she seemed today. She would do just about anything to avoid her duties.
Her mother’s laughter rang through the hall.
Phaedra squirmed at the notes of impatience coiling beneath the whimsical sound. She felt only a pinch of guilt at leaving her mother to the mercy of their callers. Their presence, quite frankly, alarmed her. She had recognized some of their voices as well. Suitors of old, ones she had thought had given up their quest for her dowry months ago.
What had reawakened their interest?
“You cannot hide from her ladyship forever,” Millie whispered, as though anything louder would give away their presence.
No, but Phaedra could certainly try.
A soft tapping sound at the window startled them. Phaedra glanced over her shoulder and promptly frowned at the man on the other side of the glass.
“Deerhurst?” Phaedra asked in astonishment.
What madness was this now?
An instant rush of awareness flooded her, spreading down to her belly and then her toes. Her lips tingled, and Phaedra had to resist the urge to scrub the sensation away with her fingers. Those sharp eyes would certainly notice the action.
And just what was he doing sneaking about her home?
He motioned her over.
