They were nearly down the line of couples, which meant their time together would soon end. Given the way other gentlemen had been watching Phoebe as he promenaded her along, he would not get more than a moment or two to escort her from the floor before there was a clamor for introductions.
Which meant it was time for his apology.
Griffin sobered. “Miss Kimball, though this is not ideal timing, I fear I will not have the ability to offer you a sincere apology if I do not make it now.”
She blinked at him, and then her expression clouded over. She turned away, walking beneath the joined hands of another couple, then returned to him. “I do not know what you mean, Mr. Fenwick.”
“The other day, upon your doorstep, I misspoke. I only wish to tell you that I am sorry for speaking like a bumbling fool. I would never wish to offer you insult. I rather like conversing with you, and I wish to be friends.”
Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink, and he felt his chest warm in response.
Phoebe took hold of her skirt, preparing to curtsy, and he clenched his fists at his side waiting for her acceptance of his apology. “Mr. Fenwick, of course you are forgiven. Thank you.”
Relieved, he offered up his final bow, and then held his hand out to her. Her fingers slipped into his palm, and despite the material of their gloves between them he would have sworn in that moment there was a very real physical connection. His heart leapt, and his grip tightened upon her.
No fewer than four gentlemen converged upon them, as he had known they would, and the moment was lost. Given the brightness of her greeting to each of the men, Griffin doubted he would be granted another opportunity to engage her hand.
The disappointment he felt upon watching her walk away on the arm of another ought to have surprised him.
“Griffin.”
He jolted and looked down at Caroline Kimball.
“Oh. Good evening, Caroline.” He realized his greeting lacked warmth and smiled rather hastily to make up for it.
She laughed and took his arm. “Do not sound so happy to see me, sir, or my husband may get jealous.”
He relaxed, then looked again to where Phoebe smiled at her new partner. “I would not wish to stir such an emotion in one who loves you, Caroline.”
“No. I imagine not.” Why did she sound so sly as she spoke?
Griffin looked down at her again, but something told him he ought to change the subject quickly. “I hope you are enjoying your evening.”
“Very much, thank you.” Caroline peered at him most thoughtfully, then turned her attention to her sister-in-law. “Thank you for displaying Phoebe’s dancing skills so well, and introducing her to so many. I am afraid I have not been an ideal sponsor this Season.”
“I am certain you are doing quite well,” he said at once, purposefully guiding her to walk away from the dancers. “Though I had wondered why it is you are here and not the senior Mrs. Kimball.”
“Oh, did you not know?” Caroline’s expression turned serious, her eyebrows drawn down along with the corners of her mouth. “Dear me. The family does not mean to keep it a secret, of course, though I suppose we have not discussed it much outside of our own home and friends.” She looked to the wall of chairs, where her husband conversed with other married men.
“If you do not think you should tell me,” Griffin said, though his curiosity rose, “then please do not. I would not like you to betray any confidences.”
Caroline shook her head. “It is not a secret, as I said.” Then she sighed. “Last autumn, my mother-in-law was struck rather suddenly. Apoplexy, her doctor said. She has improved a great deal, though she could not even speak for a time. I am afraid she is not able to move about as freely as she once did, and she thought her presence in London would hurt Phoebe’s ability to focus on the task at hand.”
The task at hand, of course, was to find a husband. Griffin relaxed and looked out to where Phoebe danced, immediately finding her among the throng. His eyes were drawn to her rather like a magnet to metal. “I imagine someone of such a kind nature as Miss Kimball would be more concerned with her mother’s well-being than her own.”
“That is precisely true of Phoebe.” Caroline’s smile appeared almost sorrowful. “Last Season, Phoebe kept apologizing for entertaining that scoundrel of a suitor. She takes things very much to heart. My sweet sister-in-law puts burdens upon her shoulders when they are not hers to bear.”
Griffin added that to what he knew of Phoebe, unsurprised, and his heart softened toward her still more. He ought to have been alarmed. Yet Griffin had known the moment he saw her that evening, all pretty uncertainty at the foot of the stairs, that his feelings toward the idea of marriage were shifting.
The list of suitors he had begun to compose for her, as her anonymous friend, needed one more name added to it.
His own.
Chapter 7
A Calculated Risk
To My Friend,
You are bold, sir, to ask such a personal question. But given that the nature of our correspondence has been most personal, I will answer your inquiry. This will be my last Season in London because I am rather exhausted. Constantly putting myself on display has worn at my confidence, my mind, and my heart. Rather than carry on as some do, I will retire to my family’s home. It feels more dignified than putting myself upon the marriage market for a fourth year.
Perhaps you already know, my dear friend, but I enjoyed myself at the Countess Vailmoore’s ball last evening. I met many gentlemen. Have you already learned their names? Are you prepared to tell me which of them is suitable and which I ought to avoid?
I confess to looking forward to your notes. Though I do not know who you are, I appreciate the kindness you have shown in your words and advice. I wonder if you look forward to my letters at all? Regardless, I hope this note finds you in good health and happiness. I remain
Your Friend,
P.K.
Phoebe sat at her desk, reading again what she had written. It was a dangerous game to play, writing a complete stranger. Yet she could not bring herself to tear the note to pieces, to throw it away. And her anonymous friend’s letters she kept bundled in her desk, a red ribbon matching the rampant lion seal and her bracelet holding them together in a tidy packet.
If her friends learned of her exchanging letters with an unknown gentleman, what might they say?
Marah would doubtless disapprove. As kind as she was, she was one to follow rules. Usually. Lavinia would worry. She did tend to mother the girls when they were together at school. Isabel’s reaction was not one she could be certain of. But Daphne—Daphne listened. Daphne was also in Town this Season.
A stab of guilt made Phoebe wince. It was her fault that they had not seen each other more often. Phoebe had kept herself far too busy of late. And their family’s social circles did not overlap enough for accidental meetings.
Phoebe determined to write her friend at once. She took out a clean sheet of paper and tapped her pen to her lips as she thought.
To Miss Windham,
My dearest Daphne, I have missed you so.
She wrote a full paragraph on her doings, which parties she had attended and those observations on Society surest to make Daphne smile. Practical she may be, but that only made the impractical things of Society more laughable to her.