Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) (11 page)

Eloise grasped her hand, ‘Please no, don’t. I couldn’t bear it if he refused. It seems my whole life is ended.’

‘Never, come, I shall ring for some brandy, for you sorely need it.’

Pulling the chord for the maid, she paced the room her thoughts fast and furious. Hearing Mary knock, she immediately went to the door, not allowing her to see Eloise’s distress. ‘Mary bring us some brandy, port wine and six glasses please, oh and some biscuits. Cover it all with a cloth as I do not wish anyone to see them.’

On Mary’s return, Phillipa took the tray at the door and bade her leave.  Placing it and the contents on the table, she removed the cloth and immediately poured Eloise a tot of brandy. ‘Now drink this, it will soothe you. I would lief put you to bed with some laudanum, but we need to save your future life here.’ She did not say that Alleyne was leaving with Damien in the morning.

Eloise coughed and spluttered, as she drank the brandy, but almost immediately, Phillip saw the pale cheeks flush a healthy pink. ‘That’s better. Now Eloise, we must sort this out immediately, there is no time to lose.’

‘But what of the ball?’

‘The ball? It does not start until ten of the clock. We have plenty of time.’

Summoning Mary once more, she bade the maid bring both Damien and Alleyne to her boudoir. Not questioning the purpose, the maid scurried away. 

‘Oh Phillipa, how can I face him? A despoiler of women, a traitor to chivalry?’

‘You are stronger than you think Eloise. Come. I am with you; I will never leave you to the fray.’

Eloise flinched, as they heard the male voices, and then the knock on the door. Going over, Phillipa opened it and stood before them, her face grim, her eyes dark with anger.

‘Come in sirs.  Please take a seat.’

Damien raised his eyebrows, what had happened to affront her so? Why he’d left her in good spirits and to his delight procured a promise of two dances this evening, maybe more if there is a scarcity of men.

Phillipa waved to the occasional chairs. ‘Please be seated.’

Damien saw the brandy and the port wine along with half a dozen glasses and frowned. It was not seemly for young ladies to have such potent liqueurs in their boudoir. Phillipa refused a second glass of champagne, and yet here she was with brandy and port wine no less. What was she up to? Eloise sat with her head down, not meeting their eyes; she appeared disconsolate, what was the matter?

Phillipa cleared her throat.  ‘Gentleman, it is with great reluctance that I am obliged to broach a very delicate matter.’

Alleyne’s eyes narrowed, but he refrained from speech.

‘Miss Templeton came to me in great distress.’

Damien frowned; she had gone back to using formal address; something was terribly wrong.

‘To my consternation….’ Phillipa paused, glaring at Alleyne, ‘I repeat, to my consternation, Miss Templeton informs me of your outrageous behaviour sir.’

Alleyne started back, his face reddening, his mouth dropping. ‘How so madam?’ he said feigning innocence.  ‘Of what am I accused?’ He turned to Eloise, ‘Please Miss Templeton tell me how I have angered you?’

Eloise raised her eyes brimming with tears. ‘You know full well sir.’

Alleyne had the grace to look down. 

‘So you have nothing to say sir?’ Phillipa asked in icy tones.

‘Zeus, lost my head. Didn’t mean to—’

‘What in hells name did you do Alleyne?’ Damien asked, his black brows beetling together.

Alleyne thumped his knee with his fist. ‘Need I explain?’

Damien rose from his chair, and paced the floor, ‘I have a good mind to call you out you blackguard.’

Phillipa’s lips thinned, as she realized she may well have suffered the same fate if she had not been so strong willed. Damien’s kisses and caresses almost overpowered her, yet she knew she was of a far stronger nature than the gentle Eloise. ‘I don’t see how you can take him to task sir when you …. you….’

‘What? ‘Alleyne stuttered. ‘Damn you Damien, you would call me out when you were ready to despoil—’

‘Enough Alleyne, I would not have ruined Phillipa. Zeus I wanted to, but I would not harm her.’  He swung round to Phillipa, ‘And well you know it young lady.’

‘I seem to remember remonstrating with you sir. And, you were shall we say, anatomically prepared to—’

‘Prepared anatomically?’ He glowered at her, only to feel his mouth twitching. She was such an innocent and yet as feisty as hell. And as for her quaint nicety of expression, he nearly laughed out loud.  She was incorrigible.

Alleyne with a determined expression on his handsome face, now in turn rose from his chair, chair, and went over to Eloise. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it, saying lightly, ‘I suppose I’ll have to marry you.’

‘No - never you are being forced into marriage and would forever hold it against me. I would rather throw myself in the river.’

‘Then I would jump in after you, and we could drown together as the star-crossed lovers we are.’

‘So now you would be Romeo to her Juliet? You quote Shakespeare badly sir.’ Phillipa said

‘Well dear lady what is a man to do? I am a gammon when it comes to verse. But I mean it.’ He swung round to Eloise. ‘Come, look what you would be throwing away, a handsome man with a fortune.’

‘And a black heart.’ Eloise rejoined with some asperity.

‘Insult me all ye may, but I swear I am in love with you Eloise, please marry me.’

Startled, Eloise’s hand went to her mouth. She could not reproach him, for his voice rang out in sincere tones. She had some feelings for him, but it was all too soon.

Phillipa’s eyes widened and she promptly went to the tray, ‘Now sirs, what would you like to drink, brandy, port wine?’

‘Brandy for me,’ Damien muttered, whilst Alleyne now on bended knee before Eloise, asked for a port.

Phillipa poured a small measure for herself and a tot for Eloise. Damien downed his in one swallow, muttering, ‘Damned if I didn’t need that.’ Going over to the tray, he poured himself another and held a glass out to Eloise, now looking down demurely at Alleyne. ‘Do I wish you happy madam?’

Alleyne lifted his head, answering for her. ‘Of course you damn well do; she has consented to be my Countess.’

’Countess?’ Eloise’s face paled, ‘Sir, you jest?’

‘No not at all, the Count de Montfort. It’s about time I produced an heir for the blood line. Soon we go into battle, and I am delighted I may experience the joys of marriage before I face the kiss of steel.’

Phillipa knew well the fate that awaited these young men. She had read of the atrocities on the battle field, of the great loss of life, of limbs amputated in sheds, of men left to bleed to death. No wonder he wished to experience a young wife, to be loved and held in her arms before facing the cannons.

Seeing Eloise’s pallor, Phillipa swiftly bade her finish her brandy.  Alleyne, restored to his affable spirits, laughed, ‘Just think, my mother will be delighted when I present such a beauty.’

Phillipa countered, ‘But you leave in the morning sir.’

‘Not now, I shall get a special licence and marry here, if that is alright with you my lady.’

‘We’d better ask the dowager; I am not yet the Baroness.’ 

‘Of course, in fact, we could have a double wedding, what?'

Damien raised his glass and quaffing it down, murmured, ‘Lucky bastard; I shall leave in the morning, without my love.’ He looked squarely at Phillipa.

‘We shall have to inform your mama and papa Eloise.’ Phillipa said.

The girl now glowing jumped up, ‘Of course.’ But then her face reddened, ‘I cannot let them know why we marry in such haste.’

Damien said in dulcet tones, ‘Then let it be a case of love at first sight, that you cannot bear to be apart, that you will travel with him to Brussels, for the lance of war could slay your lover only too soon.’

Phillipa nodded. ‘Yes tis a sound idea. I think anyone’s heart would melt at that.’

‘It was love at first sight,’ Alleyne spluttered, ‘Well second sight then.’

‘Even so,’ Eloise murmured, ‘I fear my papa may be outraged that you did not first approach him for permission to offer for my hand.’

‘Hmm’ Alleyne pursed his lips, ‘I can say that in such times, I had no leave, but to take desperate measures and beg for his permission for the marriage.’

‘Yes, you must appeal to their hearts, let love overcome formality. I am sure your mama and papa will be so proud of the match, marriage to a Count no less.’ Phillipa said earnestly.

Alleyne took Eloise’s hand, ‘And again, I insist; it is for love, for you have stolen my heart.’

Phillipa clasped her hands together, quite overcome with the romance of it all. Perhaps he was now a reformed man, leaving behind his rakish ways for this beautiful young woman.

After standing in line to greet the individual guests, Phillipa put her hand on Hector’s arm and moved to the head of the marble stairs, where the master of ceremonies announced them to the ensemble. On descending, to the vast ballroom, Phillipa admired the hundreds of candles flaming from three enormous chandeliers, whilst yet more flickered from brass sconces on the walls. The lights flashed and sparkled on crystal glasses and ornaments, the jewels adorning the ladies' necks and hair, right down to the gems and sequins of their dancing slippers. At the far end of the room, a small orchestra welcomed them with restrained music. For the first time in her life, Phillipa felt her body tremble and her mouth run dry with the magnificence of it all. Except for her last three seasons, where she was one of a number of young women, seeking a marriage partner, she was unused to being on show. She tried to swallow, tried to stop her hand shaking on Hector’s arm, but to no avail.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she desisted from searching for a glimpse of Damien. To her dismay, she found she could not quell her feelings for him.  Her heart sank when Alleyne said he was whisking Eloise and her family off to his country estate, so they could marry surrounded with family and friends. She was sure Damien would accompany him. They were after all in the same regiment and going to Brussels together. However, as they left her boudoir, he’d turned to her, and begged her for a third dance at the ball. She should have sent him away, but she could not bring herself to be rude, for that was what it would take for him to leave. She knew she should not pursue this disloyal dalliance, but Hector in all his magnanimous goodwill unwittingly pushed them together; why he even arranged the boating picnic.  She could not really shift the blame to him; for all her excuses, she was strong enough to end this now, despite Damien’s equally formidable character; however, a streak of passion over-rode her misgivings.

Already she knew she was falling in love with him; this was not just passion and lust, for it went deeper. She knew now she missed him so much if he were not near, that the day was endless without his dear face before her, his arms around her, his kisses on her lips.  Yes, this could only be true love, but heartbreak awaited her if she persisted in seeing him.  If she yielded to her love, then she faced the misery of her family’s shattered  dreams, her brothers denied an education, her sister a London season. Tomorrow, her family would arrive, and the last thing she wanted was to break their hearts.

‘Phillipa, you look gorgeous.’ She swung around to see the twins smiling at her, visions of loveliness in their ball gowns.  Amelia wore a cream sarsnet under an overskirt of gossamer tulle, and Lily; white satin embellished with three tiers of rosebuds on the puffed sleeves and hem; their lustrous red hair fashioned into curls and ringlets and decorated with tiny seed pearls. ‘We are to form a group with you for the first minuet, with Hector and mama, you and Demetrius and us with our partners.’

‘You may find it exciting Lily, but I find the minuet quite boring. Tis without all passion, so solemn. Only the old farts in Bath keep it in vogue.  I would far prefer a country dance or the quadrille or the waltz.’

‘Why Amelia, watch your language in front of our dear Phillipa as well. Really, if mama could hear you.’

‘Hmm methinks our little sister over strides herself,’ Hector murmured, with an indulgent smile. 

With a trill of laughter, the dowager joined them, ‘I heard that Amelia, so watch your tongue miss. Although, I think I must agree with our naughty girl, the minuet is a dance of perfection, but as she says, so solemn. The Prince Regent opens and ends every ball with it, but I actually adore the waltz.’

‘La, mama.’ Amelia giggled, ‘I did not think you would entertain such a risqué dance? It is quite de trop for a matron.’

‘Watch your tongue you little minx, I can still cut a figure on the dance floor; I'll have you know.’

‘I have a passion for the country dances,’ Phillipa remarked. ‘I do not admit to being much of a dancer; it is not my forte, but at least they are simple with two long straight lines and  few steps, so I only have to remember the shapes and patterns we have to form.’

The dowager flicked open a beautiful fan with an ivory handle and embossed Chinese figures. ‘Not for me,’ she said, fanning her face. ‘I never liked the leaps and hops and as for those jetes, why one must have the lightness of a ballerina.’

Phillipa smiled, ‘True, but I love the energy and gaiety.’

‘Well you won’t have me rising up on my toes.’ The dowager laughed. ‘I adore them, as it gives us chance to talk and flirt,’ Amelia said artfully, a mischievous smile on her pretty lips.

‘Amelia – please,’ Lily remonstrated with her twin.

‘And why not,’ the dowager said. It always intrigued her how different the twins were in their views and personality. ‘I used to love the chance to speak with a handsome partner, especially having to wait so long for the dancers up the line to finish. Why a country dance can last an hour, even longer.’

‘Some people are rude enough to go and sit down between the waits.’ Phillipa said.

‘Hmm, tis not fair play, truly anti-social, why tis a prime opportunity for people to get to know each other.’ The dowager replied, her fan fluttering faster, a sign of her disapproval.

‘There you see.’ Amelia retorted to Lily. ‘Don’t be so prudish sister, you will find yourself an old maid wearing a lace cap, if you carry on so.’

‘I think not,’ Demetrius interrupted, ‘our sister is far too lovely for that.’ 

‘Why brother,’ Lily simpered, ‘you fair put me to the blush.’

Phillipa grimaced; he could be a charming cove when he wished; it was only to her, he showed his true colours.

‘But come, the orchestra has struck up the minuet. Let us take our places,’ the dowager commanded, closing her fan and hanging it on a tiny loop on her dress.’

As Phillipa grudgingly took Demetrius’s arm, she glanced up at the massive chandelier above her head; she hoped she escaped the drips of hot wax from the candles.  It was a new gown, part of her trousseau, and she did not want it ruined with burn marks.

An hour went by and Phillipa sat fanning herself, breathless and quite hot, after a particularly fast ‘Paddy O’Rafferty’ reel. A glass of Ratafia appeared under her nose. ‘I think you could do with this.’ he said.

Her heart leapt – Damien.