Chapter Five
That evening
The Morewoods’ Ball
Phaedra tapped herfoot to the rhythm of the orchestra plucking away at the melody of the quadrille. She stood along the perimeter of gathering wallflowers, having found this to be a sweet spot where rogues dared not tread.
Beyond that border, wolves circled, and from time to time, one would venture dangerously close before a score of hopeful gazes, and Phaedra’s bared teeth, sent him circling back to the pack.
More gentlemen were vying for her hand this evening than ever before, and almost all of them were after her dowry. She had long ago learned to separate the princes from the paupers.
Fortune hunters had a certain gleam in their eyes—a look of thrill and expectancy that entered their gaze when they saw nothing but capital and coin. Like a flash of light, as thoughshewere a mountain of bountiful treasure and the glow of her jewels reflected in their pupils. Though, with some men, it was harder to spot than others. Those were the dangerous ones.
And London’s destitute seemed to have turned into a pack of wolves overnight. With Phaedra as their prey.
Where was Deerhurst?
The earl had promised to meet her here tonight so that they could start the enactment of their play.
The inside of her wrist prickled at the thought of him, as it had been doing all day. Ever since he had sealed their deal with a kiss on that particular spot.
I want to kiss you again.
A jolting charge raced across her skin for the hundredth time at the memory of his admission. She wanted him to kiss her, too. But it was a futile desire. And dangerous. The earl had made it clear he had no plans to be—how had he put it?—leg shackledany time soon.
Phaedra would be wise to direct her focus elsewhere, such as the benefits of their agreement. She didn’t want to scare the man away with any sort of enthusiasm. All she wanted at present was a measure of freedom and peace of mind. She hadn’t quite thought beyond what she would do once she gained a bit of respite, but Phaedra supposed she’d figure that out later.
As for tonight, she had only one objective in mind—to dance with Deerhurst. She’d purposefully kept her dance card empty, claiming a sore ankle, all the while waiting for the earl to stake his make-believe claim.
Luckily, her mother had not questioned her drive with Deerhurst. Of course, the countess had been slightly put out, but she had also been happy that Phaedra had accepted an invitation from a gentleman rather than simply closeting herself away from all callers. After tonight, however, Phaedra would either admit the truth or find a plausible excuse for their continued involvement.
“Lady Phaedra.” Lord Nash appeared before her. He cast a glance at the colorful array of wallflowers. “I never thought I’d witness the day where you forgo a night of dancing.”
A longtime friend, Phaedra offered him a welcoming smile. “Nash, you are a vision in purple.”
He laughed and motioned to the ladies beyond her. “And you’re stealing the spotlight from those poor dears.”
“On the contrary,” Phaedra said. “I’m drawing the spotlight to this corner of the ballroom.”
“Your humor is ever present, I see.” He crossed his arms behind his back, lips twitching. “I know what you are doing.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“My plan seems to be working then.”
“I daresay it is, but your suitors are getting bolder.” Nash motioned to a group of young bucks inching closer to her, their gazes flicking between her and the ladies at her back.
She sighed. “I suppose I shall have to take a seat soon.”
“You are no wallflower.”
True. “But I am hunted, Nash.”
“My offer still stands.”
Phaedra arched an inquisitive brow at him.
