Wesley grumbled as he took the newspaper from the serpent.
Dearest Reader,
Word has it that Miss Phillipa Willoughby—or is that the Duchess of Chelmsford? It depends on how legitimate you consider her unconsummated marriage to the Duke of Chelmsford—caused quite a commotion when she left her Southampton home to attend our fine Ball. Her mother, who was the most disappointed of all of us that Miss Willoughby refused to participate in the most recent Season, brought signed annulment papers to Her Majesty, to convince Queen Charlotte herself to rescind her demand for Phillipa’s presence at The Monsters Ball. By the time Mrs. Willoughby returned home, Phillipa was gone, presumed to be on her way to the Ball. No one would admit to assisting her transit after they were all expressly forbidden from bringing her to Broadstone Hall.
Rumor has it that Mrs. Willoughby is on her way to Maidenbury, with the plans to retrieve her middle daughter and bring her to the Royal Hospital.
Will she make it in time before Her Majesty blesses the new—or old—couple?
Sip slowly, my friends. Night two of the Ball will not fail to excite.
Lady Grey
Wesley gasped, and the serpent nodded when he looked at him. “There’s been no word of Mrs. Willoughby arriving yet. But I would assume it would take her a bit of time to get her affairs in order and do her best to tamp down the budding scandal.”
“Mine,” Wesley growled.
“That is precisely why I wanted to bring this most unpleasant development to your attention.” Simon folded the newspaper and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Would I be able to keep that?” Wesley asked. “To show Phillipa.”
“Of course. I’m sure this is not the only copy of The High Tea circulating around the hall. So far, we are unaware of a follow-up. I can’t imagine that Her Majesty would respond to such a ludicrous attempt to undermine her excellent selection process. But Phillipa cannot leave this Ball unclaimed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Phillipa
“My lady, you look absolutely radiant.” Sir Oliver, the orc she had danced with last night, bowed in front of Phillipa.
She shook her head slightly, his sudden presence startled her right out of her own head. “Thank you.”
“I dare say I wish I was the one who made you look that way. Compliments to the lucky beast who has.”
Her mouth dropped. “We haven’t done anything scandalous. Just danced.”
“Oh, Miss Willoughby, everyone saw that wicked, scandalous kiss.”
She put her hand over her mouth. There was no way that the other dancers could have missed it. Her cheeks burned as she thought of what it was like to kiss the wolven.
Nothing like it had been to kiss Wesley. His mouth was big, his teeth jagged, and the kiss was as wild as the rest of him. She was thankful that he’d pulled away before she had a chance to get truly lost in him.
“I do not say that to shame you, my lady. Only expressing my envy that it was not me. If you were not so drawn into your wolven, you would see many similar displays happening throughout the Hall. I must confess, I was surprised the wolven seems to be the one who’s won your heart, especially after our conversation last evening.”
“We haven’t made any commitments yet.” Phillipa wished she didn’t have so many doubts about the wolven. She loved the fantasy that he was Wesley, but there was no logical way this could be the case.
The orc’s face brightened. “Oh, that is wonderful news indeed. Does that mean there is room on your dance card for me?”
She hesitated. The answer should have been yes, but her feelings for the wolven were complicated. Her heart wanted to go all in. But her head wasn’t ready to believe him completely yet.
“My lady, I do not intend to kiss you the way the wolven did. Of course, I would not be opposed to the possibility.” He waggled his brows. “I jest. I would do nothing to sully your reputation, although you would have to do a lot worse than kiss two beasts in one night to blacklist yourself here. I merely thought that you would like to follow up on our conversation from last night, in case there is more to your sudden infatuation with the wolven than meets the eye.”
“Infatuation, you say.” She folded her arms playfully in front of her chest.
“You’ve had eyes for no one but the wolven all night long,” the orc said. “Those that are not familiar with the situation are positively smitten with how romantic it is. But I must say, you did not practice the utmost discretion last night when you asked anyone interested in dancing with you the best way to kill such a wolven.”
She laughed. “I would blame the wine.”
“Miss Willoughby, you are a wicked woman. You knew exactly what you were doing then, as much as you do right now. Now, can I count on you for a dance, or will you be committing yourself to the wolven for the rest of the evening?”
“He is aware of my plan.”
The orc’s lips parted. “Maybe the beast has plans of his own.”
Phillipa never thought she’d be relieved to see Martin. But the feeling was fleeting, as the minotaur was as much of a rake as Oliver.
“Please forgive the intrusion, but I do believe Miss Willoughby promised me the next dance,” the baron said.
Oliver nodded. “You have quite an act to follow.”
He bowed, and let the crowd swallow him.
“Lady Phillipa, you’ve had quite the eventful evening.” The minotaur gave her a wicked grin.
“As I’ve been told countless times.” She took a drink off a passing tray.
“Do you still care to dance?”
She could decline and go back to her wolven. But that was dangerous thinking as well. Her wolven. Before she’d spoken to Oliver, she might have done just that. She’d still been reeling from his sweet courtship when the orc planted some serious doubt about his motivation.
She could hardly blame him. For last night, she would have driven the dagger into his heart if she had been given the chance.
And now, he was in possession of the weapon.
“I have been quite looking forward to our dance,” she finally said.
Martin chuckled. “You must not make such poor attempts to flatter me, for many ladies here are willing to do it honestly. And I am always happy to oblige. But I have a feeling you have been looking forward to it for other reasons.”
A cheer rose from the crowd as the pianist began to play the jaunty tune. Phillipa hooked her arm in Martin’s and followed him to the dancefloor. They bowed to each other as the dance began.
“I would like to talk to you,” she said on her first pass.
“You will find that I am an open book, my lady.”
But he was lost in the spin. She was wary of talking to him out in the open like this, but she if things continued to progress with the wolven, she might not get another chance to speak to Martin before it was too late.
“Did you know my husband?” she asked.
His brows shot up. “You’re married?”
“Yes. No. It’s complicated.” She sighed. It was hard to talk about this while she was bouncing around, dancing with the group. “I was. I am. He disappeared.”
“My deepest condolences.”
“Thank you. I am not looking for sympathy. I was just wondering if you had any prior dealing with the Duke of Chelmsford before you arrived at the Ball.”