“Yes, dinner will be announced soon. You have Warminster’s guests to entertain.”
Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t remind me. I will be relieved when this week is over and we get Moreton Hall to ourselves again.”
“I’ll see you at dinner then.” Selwood bowed extravagantly.
Disconcerted to have a naked man bow so elegantly to her, Phoebe rushed from the room to get ready for the evening.
While she bathed and dressed, Phoebe considered what Lord Selwood had said. He intended for Warminster to learn of their liaison, that they were lovers. Warminster would not be happy about that at all. He would make her life even more difficult.
Phoebe entered the drawing room with considerable trepidation to mingle with her stepson’s guests. Although by rights she should have acted as Warminster’s hostess, his prickly disposition made it impossible to do so. So far, the most he’d allowed was letting her order the tea to be served in the drawing room.
“I see Lord Selwood has joined our party,” Lady Clifford purred loudly in her ear. “Such a handsome, virile man. What we wouldn’t give to be ten years younger, eh?”
Phoebe gasped. Given that Lady Clifford’s age was greater than her own, she couldn’t possibly hope to appeal to a younger man. Mind you, Phoebe thought that of herself less than twenty-four hours ago. “Yes, I suppose so.”
When she glanced across the room she spotted Lord Selwood chatting with Warminster. The odd pairing—one draped in claret silk, the other clothed in blue superfine —seemed as cozy as usual. That would end.
Lady Clifford tapped her arm. “I’m certain he’s headed for marriage. See there—” the lady pointed across the room—“he’s already got a likely candidate lined up for a wife. A pity for him that my daughter favors Lord Warminster at the present moment. But still, Selwood won’t have trouble finding an experienced playmate to ease his disappointment. He’s still sensible enough to cast his eye abou
t for a willing bed partner while he bides his time. Young men are insatiable.”
Aghast at the conversation, Phoebe fanned herself. Of course Selwood would marry, and possibly soon, but could he be after the insipid Lady Jocelyn too? She looked up in time to see Lady Jocelyn insinuate herself in the men’s conversation. There was no mistaking the calf’s eyes she made as Lord Selwood’s gaze fell on her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
But she did.
Lady Jocelyn had her sights set on both Warminster and Selwood. They were evenly matched in both title and fortune, and the chit could have them at each other’s throats before the house party was over. What a mess.
“I’ve always considered him a crafty one, but there’s no point pretending. There’ll be an agreement reached before the house party ends.” Lady Clifford glanced around, smiling in anticipation.
Phoebe’s stomach churned at the image of Selwood in bed with Lady Jocelyn. She wouldn’t glance in that direction again.
“Oh, thank heavens. Excuse us, Lady Clifford.” Lizzy Oliver clutched at her arm and dragged Phoebe toward a blessedly empty corner. “I feared you’d never arrive. Where have you been all afternoon?”
Coming apart at her brother’s command. She couldn’t very well say that out loud. “Oh, I had a, um, headache,” Phoebe improvised.
“Oh, you poor dear. Then a lie down was just the right tonic. You are positively radiant this evening.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe stammered. Lord Selwood – a tonic to restore a woman’s vitality? How about the very thing to destroy a lady’s peace? Just a glimpse of him set her pulse racing. She wasn’t sure how she’d get through the evening knowing he’d be under Lady Jocelyn’s thumb soon.
“So, what am I to do about Warminster?”
Phoebe blinked. “What about Warminster?”
“Oh, bother. Can the blathering fool not go away?”
Phoebe turned and spotted Warminster and Selwood making their way toward their quiet corner. Lord Selwood drew closer, handsome in his dark evening coat, and Phoebe’s pulse beat as loud as any parade ground drum. At sixteen, Selwood hadn’t seemed comfortable around her. Their friendship had taken time to develop. Now that they were lovers, Phoebe was the one to be discomforted by him.
Lord Selwood reached them first. “Ladies, why are you both hiding in the corner?” Phoebe searched his face, looking for some hint of what he was thinking, but couldn’t detect one flicker of emotion that might give away his feelings.
“Attempting a private conversation,” Lizzy hissed. “Go smile at Lady Jocelyn, Selwood. She is eager to capture your attention.”
Selwood shuddered. “Perhaps later. I’m more than pleased with my present location.”
Although Phoebe tried to hide her relief, Selwood must have noticed her sudden relaxation at his comment. His brow quirked upwards, questioning her reaction without words. Phoebe offered a brief smile.
“Ah, Miss Elizabeth.” Warminster held out his arm. “Shall we go in to dine?”
Lizzy glanced over Phoebe’s stepson and she shuddered. If only Warminster would take note of his friend’s style of dress and consider forgoing claret satin in his evening attire. It hurt Phoebe’s eyes to look at her stepson too closely.