The Offer (Baron 2)

“How delightful that you could come,” Sabrina said, nodding pleasantly to both Miss Elliott and her brother.

Teresa inclined her head, her eyes on the viscount’s profile.

“Phillip,” Sabrina said, tugging slightly on his sleeve. “Miss Elliott and her brother, Wilfred.”

Phillip turned from a brief conversation with Lord William Ramsey. His hazel eyes instantly lost their compelling warmth.

“I was just telling Wilfred, my lord, that you were so naughty to wed Miss Eversleigh so very quickly. None of us scarce had time to get to know her.”

Phillip gave Sabrina a lazy smile, then said easily, “I would rather say, Teresa, that if I hadn’t finally managed to convince her to wed me so quickly, I might have lost the most beautiful lady in London to another gentleman. We Merceraults have always been noted for our brains, you know. Wilfred, I trust your studies are continuing?”

“Oh yes, my lord.”

Phillip watched the brother and sister go into the ballroom. “This could afford me some amusement. If she tries anything unpleasant with you, Sabrina, you have my permission to hurl a plate or a glass at her. Then, if she doesn’t subside, you can kick her.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I’ll even stick close to her in hopes that she will insult me. May I really kick her?”

“Yes, but try not to let too many of our guests see you.”

Another couple claimed her attention and it was some ten more minutes before Phillip turned again to Sabrina. “Waltz with me, Sabrina. I think we have finally greeted every guest.”

“And not one of them your ‘surprise,’ Phillip.”

“I assume that he decided he didn’t wish to come,” he said as he took her arm.

Within minutes, Sabrina was laughing, her eyes alight with pleasure. “You see, Phillip, not everyone is unkind in London.”

“You’re jesting with me. Even you can’t be that thick.”

“Very well, but I can so easily forget when we’re waltzing. Oh, I very much like the Earl and Countess of March. They’re charming.”

Phillip remembered the earl’s words to him several days before at Gentleman Jackson’s. He said more to himself than to her, “Julien certainly follows his own advice. Never have I seen a young lady less broken to bridle.”

“Breaking to bridle? What’s this about?”

A space cleared on the dance floor and Phillip suddenly whirled her around in smooth, wide circles. When he drew her back into a more sedate pace, she was panting and laughing at the same time. “Oh, that was wonderful.”

He dropped a kiss on the fat braid on top of her head. A rose ribbon was threaded through the braids. It was an excellent style on her. She moved closer to him. He frowned. He hadn’t meant to do that, he hadn’t.

“I believe,” he said as the music came to an end, “that our surprise guest has arrived. If I’m not mistaken, he wishes to dance with you.”

Sabrina turned to face Richard Clarendon. She cocked her head to one side. There’d been just a hint of chill in Phillip’s voice. How odd.

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sp; “Richard,” she said, and swept him a curtsy.

Richard Clarendon gazed down at the slender, vibrant girl before him and for a moment forgot all his gallant banter, compliments so much a part of him that he could speak them while continuing his own thoughts. “You’re well, Sabrina?”

“Yes, Richard, I’m very well.”

“I’m delighted you could come, Richard,” Phillip said. “My wife dearly loves to waltz. Perhaps you would like to indulge her?”

She forgot their last meeting at Moreland when she’d been flat on her back, sicker than she’d care to admit, and he’d tried to bend her to his will. She looked up at him, seeing an extraordinarily handsome man who looked altogether dark and dangerous. “Perhaps Richard doesn’t want to dance, Phillip.”

Richard Clarendon merely nodded to Phillip and took Sabrina’s arm. She smiled up at him, craning her neck, for he was some inches taller even than Phillip. He whirled her away into the throng.

“Good God, Phillip, what the devil are you doing? Have you lost your good sense?”