The Rogue and the Rival (31 page)
Read The Rogue and the Rival Online
Authors: Maya Rodale
She thought it might be something about his eyes; they were such a pale blue, and the color reminded her of a sunny yet frigid February day. Bright, with the illusion of warmth. She could not fault his manners or his conversation. Frost was seemingly all that a gentleman ought to be, and all that was proper. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no depth to the man. Or that his behavior was all a carefully constructed act.
And Lady Palmerston couldn’t help but compare Frost to Huntley, as he had been years ago, when he was courting her other niece. Huntley couldn’t act to save his own life. Huntley had always conducted himself as if he were deliberately trying to be loathed, or at the very best, not trying to be liked.
And that was when Lady Palmerston could name the quality she did not care for in Frost: desperation. But whether it was desperation to please, to be liked, or for something else, she did not know. But it was there in the glacial blue of his eyes. She could sense a strain in his words and his actions.
And then Frost uttered the most peculiar thing.
“I saw Lord Huntley departing here as I arrived. Or should I say ‘the evil Lord Hartshorne’? It is he, in your drawing, is it not?” Lady Palmerston pursed her lips. That was certainly odd. Huntley had left a good fifteen minutes before Frost’s arrival. Obviously one of the gents had been skulking on the street outside of her house. She made a mental note to speak to Groves about that.
“I don’t care to say whom I portrayed in that drawing.”
“We needn’t keep secrets from each other. Angela, I . . .” And here Frost glanced over at Lady Palmerston, holding her gaze for a moment. He obviously wished her to leave. He stared at her, issuing a command with his eyes. She merely raised her brow at him, and he looked away with a fleeting expression of annoyance.
Hmmph.
Hmmph.
“I should like to see you again, Angela,” Frost spoke, his gaze upon Angela now. Her niece betrayed nothing in her expression. She either had acting talents previously unknown, or the girl felt nothing.
But permission was granted, and Frost took his leave.
“He is different than I remembered. Or perhaps I am,” Angela remarked thoughtfully.
“I have no basis for comparison,” Lady Palmerston said. But she could compare her niece’s gentleman callers to each other, and oddly enough, she found herself preferring Phillip. Well, as she said, there was a first time for everything.
“Are you wearing my clothes?” Devon asked, eyeing Phillip’s attire. Devon had just arrived in the foyer, and the twins were waiting for Emilia before departing to attend a ball. Phillip had, without Devon or Emilia’s explicit permission, moved into Buckingham House. He had no money for lodgings of his own, or even his own clothes.
“Yes, I am. I can’t thank you enough for lending them to me. I didn’t really take the time to pack before I left.” That was true; it was also irrelevant. Phillip no longer owned a set of evening clothes to pack.
“I don’t think that I—”
“Isn’t it great having a brother? Especially one that has exactly the same measurements. We are so lucky to have each other,” Phillip said, grinning, and affectionately patting Devon on the back.
“Really, Phillip, did you suffer a head injury? You are not acting like the brother I know,” Devon said, looking at him suspiciously. Phillip resisted mentioning that Devon was not the brother he remembered, either. For one thing, his twin hadn’t beaten him again. His twin hadn’t even asked him to leave—although he hadn’t exactly offered to allow Phillip to stay in his home, either.
But something had changed between them. It might have been because Phillip had changed. Perhaps it was because they were no longer vying for their father’s attention. Phillip did not care to examine potential explanations. All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he was glad he had his brother.
“I did hit my head, actually. Hence, the scar,” Phillip replied, gesturing to the scar just above his right eyebrow.
“Stop pointing that out to me,” Devon grumbled through gritted teeth. Phillip would have, if it didn’t so obviously annoy his brother, and if that didn’t amuse him so much. Some things never changed.
“Enjoy the fact that you had it first,” Phillip conceded.
“I shall. Just as I also enjoy the fact that you are in debt to me by, what is it, six hundred pounds now?”
Phillip scowled. His brother had dictated the
worst
terms for the loan: he was to pay it back, without interest, but at the expense of Devon being allowed to nag, needle, tease, and remind him as much as he’d like, and Phillip was not allowed to taunt back. Although: “Five hundred and ninety-four, actually,” Phillip couldn’t resist pointing out. The collection of rent and the sale of some land had gone a long way toward paying off his debt.
worst
terms for the loan: he was to pay it back, without interest, but at the expense of Devon being allowed to nag, needle, tease, and remind him as much as he’d like, and Phillip was not allowed to taunt back. Although: “Five hundred and ninety-four, actually,” Phillip couldn’t resist pointing out. The collection of rent and the sale of some land had gone a long way toward paying off his debt.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Emilia said, finally joining them in the foyer.
“You look beautiful, Em, as always,” Devon said, making eyes at his wife. Phillip looked away.
“Right. Shall we be going then?” Phillip asked.
“You are joining us?” Emilia asked.
“Devon was so gracious as to lend me a suit of evening clothes and to allow me to join you both as a guest,” Phillip lied smoothly. As far as lies went, it was a small one and uttered for the noble purpose of searching for Angela. The fact that he hadn’t an invitation, he assumed, would be overlooked. His mere presence after such a long, unexplained absence would be scandalous, thus giving the ton some gossip with which to amuse themselves. He considered it his gift to them.
Devon opened his mouth to reply to the contrary, but Emilia spoke first.
“Oh, Devon, that is so kind and thoughtful of you!”
Devon merely smiled at his wife. “Shall we be off then?”
Chapter 16
“The
Duke and Duchess of Buckingham,” the butler announced to the crowd at large as they all arrived at the ball. “And . . .” The butler took a second look at Phillip, “And the Marquis of Huntley?”
Duke and Duchess of Buckingham,” the butler announced to the crowd at large as they all arrived at the ball. “And . . .” The butler took a second look at Phillip, “And the Marquis of Huntley?”
At first, only those standing in the vicinity took notice. Heads swiveled in his direction, mouths fell open, eyes widened, eyebrows were raised; all the typical expressions of surprise were present in some variation upon every face that saw him. Then the silence traveled through the ballroom like the plague, infecting one person after the next until even the orchestra ceased to produce a sound. More than one couple engaged in a waltz stopped short, bumping into their partners.
And then there were a few gasps of shock, which turned into whispers, until the room buzzed as if inhabited by a swarm of bees. That escalated into the roar of hundreds of people talking at once. The orchestra resumed playing. The couples returned to their waltz.
“I haven’t lost my touch, it seems,” Phillip joked. “I can still cause a scandal just by walking into a room.”
“And yet the night is still young. I shudder to think what else might transpire this evening,” Devon muttered.
And for a moment, as hundreds of people stood and stared, openly gaped and obviously gossiped about him, Phillip almost lost his nerve. He didn’t feel like the greatest scoundrel of his generation but rather like a boy on the first day of school.
No one will like you. They are all going to laugh at you.
On that first day at Eton, he had stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders, gritting his teeth, and wordlessly daring them to say something to his face. Tonight, he did all of those things, except he added a grin.
Did you miss me?
his smile seemed to say.
Did you miss me?
his smile seemed to say.
One or two people couldn’t help but smile back. But quite a few gasped at his audacity and turned their backs. Quite a few mothers stepped in front of their daughters, as a barrier between them and Phillip. They were safe from him now, for there was only one woman that he wanted.
If Angela was witnessing this, he hoped she at least understood now why he had hesitated so long to make her his wife. He badly wanted her at his side right now, as a source of comfort and strength. But at the same time, he was relieved that she did not endure this as well. And that was when he saw the flaw in his plan. He could not possibly speak to her tonight. He would not approach her. He would, if luck were on his side, catch a glimpse of her. And maybe, just maybe, she would seek him out. But he would not force her to endure his attentions. He could not taint her with his blackened, filthy reputation.
And like that first day of school, he had the backing of a duke, and he was still the heir to a dukedom. Devon stood at his side, still.
“You see now why I stayed away for five years,” his twin murmured.
“The company does leave a bit to be desired.”
And then it became apparent that someone was pushing their way through the crowd toward Phillip. More than one person turned to glare at the figure that so carelessly shoved them aside.
“Phillip! It is you. Good to have you back,” Parkhurst said, grinning widely, once he had managed to survive the crowd. The happiness in his voice was undeniable, and Phillip was at once truly glad to see his friend yet also wary. Parkhurst had always been around, always enjoying the debauchery Phillip had surrounded himself with. What if that were the only basis of their friendship?
“Parkhurst. It’s good to see you again,” Phillip said, and it was the truth.
“We must have a drink to celebrate your return. Thank God you have chosen this ball to attend. I swear I was so bored that I was ready to drown myself in the vat of lemonade.”
“I arrived just in time then,” Phillip said, accepting a brandy from the footman. He looked at it and realized that he did not want it.
“Cheers!” Parkhurst said, raising his glass. Phillip did the same, though he did not imbibe.
“What the devil is that on your finger, Parkhurst?” Had Phillip taken a sip of his drink, he would have choked on it.
“Oh, that,” Parkhurst said, staring at the wedding band on his hand with a mixture of annoyance and awe.
“Got yourself leg shackled, did you?” Phillip said, grinning. Parkhurst. Married. That was unexpected. What was the world coming to?
“Mother wore me down. But Lilly, my wife, she’s sweet. Doesn’t complain overmuch about how much time I spend at the club. She’s around here somewhere tonight, off with her friends.”
“Congratulations,” Phillip said, raising his glass in cheers again but not taking a sip this time, either.
“I would have sent an invitation, but I didn’t know where you were.”
“Of course. You and I are not the letter writing type.”
“No. The good thing about a wife, though—well, one of the good things—is that Lilly takes care of stuff like that.”
“You could have hired a secretary,” Phillip pointed out.
“But that wouldn’t have gotten my mother off my back about getting married, now would it?” Parkhurst responded.
“No,” Phillip agreed.
“Although,” Parkhurst continued, “now she has moved on to to nagging me about providing her with grandchildren.” Parkhurst as a father, Phillip thought. It was almost as unimaginable as Phillip being a father.
“And have you provided one?”
“No, but not for lack of trying. Which, the other day, I pointed out to my mother, and I managed to silence her for an entire thirty-seven seconds.”
Phillip laughed. He could just imagine Parkhurst, stunned at his own minor triumph, counting the ticking of the clock hands above his mother’s head.
“So does she still fill you in on the gossip when she’s done nagging you about something or other?” Like Phillip, Parkhurst never read the papers. But unlike Phillip, Parkhurst had a mother who called thrice a week, without fail, and when she was finished lecturing him on this or that, she filled him in on every little
on-dit.
She had always been their primary source of information, particularly regarding all the wicked things Phillip was alleged to have done or, often enough, had actually done.
on-dit.
She had always been their primary source of information, particularly regarding all the wicked things Phillip was alleged to have done or, often enough, had actually done.
Phillip wondered if his own mother might have done the same. And if he would have complained to his friends about it, while being secretly pleased with the attention.
“Indeed she does,” Parkhurst said, after gulping down a sip of brandy. “I think we both wish that she had had a daughter, who might enjoy hearing her babble on about all that nonsense.”
“Nonsense it may be, I’m curious as to what has transpired in my absence.”
“Where to start? Let me think. Well, Lord Derby over there . . .” Parkhurst began, and then he continued. Phillip only paid the slightest attention to his friend’s gossip, as he looked about the room, searching for Angela.
She was not waltzing. She was not over by the lemonade table. She was not hovering on the periphery of the ballroom like a wallflower, nor, to his relief, was she in the middle of a large group of gents in the far corner.
But she was standing near the large French doors that led to the terrace.
Phillip’s breath caught in his throat. He had imagined her every day and every night since he first met her. And the Angela of his fantasies had been so vivid that he could almost taste her and touch her. But this, this was something else. Because that was the real Angela, and she was closer to him than she had been in nearly a year. And yet she was still so very far away.
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