The Escape (Survivor's Club) (47 page)

He actually chuckled, and she laughed with him.

“You had a good time at the picnic?” he asked. “But I do not need to ask, do I? You have a glow in your cheeks and a sparkle in your eyes. Mendelhall, is it? Well, if he chooses to call on me, I shall listen to what he has to say and allow him to pay his addresses to you if I am satisfied with what I hear.”

He continued on his way to the library, and Philippa ran upstairs to dispose of her bonnet and parasol.

She was going to dance tomorrow night
with Julian
.

If only she could waltz with him.

But she must not be greedy.

“Y
ou have been in town scarcely two days, Julian,” Lady Charles Crabbe said to her son at dinner that same evening, “yet you have already conceived a tendre for a young lady making her come-out this year?”

She was looking at him in some surprise, her eyebrows raised, her knife and fork suspended above her plate.

“The tendre was conceived two years ago, Mother,” he confessed. “In Bath. When I stayed for a while with my aunt and uncle, if you remember. Miss Dean is Cousin Barbara’s friend.”

“But how old was she?” his mother asked faintly.

“Sixteen,” he said. “She is eighteen now.”

“Sixteen?” She set down her cutlery very carefully across her plate.

“I have been waiting for her to grow up,” he explained.

She contemplated her plate for a while, a slight frown between her brows.

“I do remember that time,” she said. “You were rusticating in Bath. You were a severe disappointment to
me. I had hoped for a son who was different from his father. And then suddenly you
were
different and have remained different. Is there some connection here, Julian? Was it not the death of your father, after all, that caused the change? Was it this
—girl
?”

“Yes,” he said. “Philippa Dean. A young lady now. I fell in love with her when she was but a girl, and I have remained in love with her.”

“Yet I am now hearing about her for the first time,” she said, transferring her gaze to his face, “even though she has had such a startling and positive influence upon your life.”

“She was too young to be courted,” he explained to her. “But no longer. And she means everything in the world to me.”

She continued to gaze at him in some amazement.

“I am delighted, of course,” she said. “At least, I
believe
I am. I have feared that you were driven and lonely, Julian, that you would neglect your personal need for love and companionship. Well, I would declare myself speechless if I were not sitting here talking. And tomorrow evening I will meet this paragon who has held your heart for two years. And that brings us back to your original question. Yes, I am acquainted with more than one of the patronesses of Almack’s, though none of them are my bosom friends. Lady Jersey is probably the most amiable and the most approachable. I shall see what I can do, Julian. I’ll call on her tomorrow afternoon, though if I find her at home it will be a miracle.”

“Thank you,” he said as she picked up her knife and fork again and resumed her meal. “You will like her, Mother, I promise you.”

“Lady Jersey?” she said. “I do not like her above half, you know, but for your sake …”

He laughed, and her eyes twinkled at him.

“I am predisposed to like your Miss Dean,” she
said, “if she is prepared to rescue you from the loneliness I thought you prey to, Julian. Goodness, I had not the slightest suspicion of any such thing. I daresay, then, that all those letters you have exchanged with Barbara in the past few years have not been entirely due to a strong cousinly affection between the two of you, have they? I need my head examined.”

He laughed again. “I
am
fond of Barbara.”

He was not laughing the following evening. He was feeling quite absurdly nervous, considering the fact that this was by no means
his
first Season. He had attended
ton
balls by the dozen in the past, but usually only to ogle the newest beauties on the marriage mart and to play a few hands in the card room if the stakes were high enough to be worth the effort. He had danced with all the prettiest girls, flirted outrageously with them, and moved on long before he could become entangled in expectations he had no intention of honoring—or else long before the more careful of the papas could discover the precarious state of his finances and his father’s.

Tonight he was here for another purpose entirely. And tonight he was an almost entirely different person from that careless, expensive, rakish fellow he had been. Both Mr. and Mrs. Dean were present with their daughter, he saw immediately and in some surprise. Most fathers left the dreary business of chaperoning their daughters to their wives.

There were a couple of young ladies with Philippa, and they were engaged in conversation with a group of gentlemen. All were laughing merrily as Julian came up to them and made his bow. He felt a million years old.

Philippa introduced him, and he joined in the conversation for a few minutes before directing his attention exclusively to her.

“Miss Dean,” he said, “dare I hope you have a space free on your dancing card for me?”

“Ho,” the red-haired Sir Dudley Foote cried, “not the first, Crabbe. That is already promised to me.”

“I was hoping for the first waltz,” Julian said, smiling, his eyes still on Philippa.

She gazed back at him with wide, wistful eyes.

“Alas, sir,” she said. “I am not yet allowed to dance it.”

“Then perhaps,” he said, “you will allow me to sit it out with you, Miss Dean.”

“Now why did I not think of that?” Michael Forster lamented, smiting his brow with the heel of his hand.

“That would be kind of you,” Philippa said, and he scrawled his name on her card before lifting his eyes to hers.

But the orchestra members were tuning their instruments, and the opening set was being announced, and Foote led her onto the floor while the other gentlemen claimed all the other young ladies except one.

“Miss Hancock,” Julian said, bowing to her, “may I have the honor?”

Her eyes lit up with relief.

“Thank you, sir.” She set a hand on his wrist.

The waltz—one of two—did not come until just before supper. Julian danced every set before it, for he did not want anyone, least of all her parents, to think he was singling out only Philippa for attention. He thought those dances would never end. His mother had indeed found Lady Jersey at home this afternoon, and that grand lady was in attendance this evening and bowing her head graciously to all about her, her plumes nodding above her head.

“Ah, Miss Dean,” she said as Julian took his place beside her before the waltz and prepared to sit on a bench with her if necessary, “you look very fetching this
evening, my dear. Did your dancing master teach you the steps of the waltz in … Bath, is it?”

She made Bath sound as if it were a distant and uncouth province.

“I have learned the steps, my lady,” Philippa said, curtsying low while Mr. and Mrs. Dean closed in on either side of her.

Lady Jersey’s eyes moved to Julian.

“I have seen Mr. Crabbe waltz,” she said, “though it was some time ago. He performs the steps quite creditably, I seem to recall. I believe he is a suitable partner to lead you into your first waltz in public. With your parents’ permission, of course.” Her plumes nodded graciously in their direction.

“I may
waltz
, my lady?” Philippa’s lovely green eyes were wide with wonder.

“You may, my dear,” Lady Jersey said before sweeping onward to favor someone else with her attention.

“Oh, my love,” Mrs. Dean said, smiling with obvious delight.

Mr. Dean looked hard at Julian.

And then they were on the gleaming dance floor together, waiting for the music to start, and Julian set one hand behind her waist while she lifted a hand to his shoulder and set the other hand in his.

Her waist was warm and tiny and supple. She was wearing a sweet and subtle perfume.

“I can
waltz
.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. “Julian? Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Well,” he said, “my mother does happen to know Lady Jersey, and she did happen to call upon her this afternoon.”

“Your mother?”

“The lady in emerald green sitting over by the first window,” he said. “I hope you will allow me to introduce
you to her at supper. This
is
the supper dance, you know.”

She turned her head to look at his mother, who was looking back. Philippa smiled uncertainly, and his mother inclined her head and smiled back.

And then the music began.

If there was magic alive in this world, Julian thought after the first couple of minutes, it was surely present in the waltz danced with someone one loved more than life itself. The ballroom about them suddenly seemed enchanted.

Her face was raised to his, wonder and love naked in her eyes. She danced the steps lightly and correctly for those first minutes until he felt her relax fully, and their steps became more instinctive as he whirled her into the turns and steered her past slower dancers without colliding.

He was aware only of the woman in his arms, and yet there was an unconscious awareness too of their surroundings—candlelight swirling, colored gowns swaying, music lilting, the flowers fragrant and lovely, the sounds of conversation and laughter enclosing them in their own private world of magic and romance.

He supposed, when he thought about it, that his expression must match hers. Certainly he had been making no effort to hide his feelings. He did not care. He would take a few weeks to court her before speaking to her father, and he would show the Deans that he knew how to do it properly, with the proper care for her reputation. But he would make no secret from this moment on of the fact that he
was
courting her. The long wait was over even if a twinge of uncertainty remained.

“Happy?” he asked her.

“This is the happiest night of my life,” she assured him.

Ah, Philippa. Where was the feigned ennui with
which most young girls making their come-out armed themselves so that they would not appear overeager to prospective suitors?

“And of mine,” he told her.

Her smile was so openly happy that he almost stopped to gather her into his arms. Almost. But he was not quite dead to his surroundings.

They waltzed in silence for what remained of their half hour before supper.

For really there was no need for words. Words—written words—had been the only medium of communication between them for two years. Now they were together.

And for the moment, for tonight, that was enough.

J
ulian courted Philippa for six weeks.

She continued attending balls, soirees, concerts, the theater, picnics, and Venetian breakfasts just as if nothing had happened to shift her world. She spent an evening of music and dancing and fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens as a member of a party made up by Mr. Mendelhall’s mother. She walked in Hyde Park with her sisters and their governess, and with Miss Ginty and a few of her other lady friends, their maids trailing behind. She was driven there at the fashionable hour by four different gentlemen. She went shopping with her mother and with her friends.

And three weeks after her return from Gloucestershire, her father received an offer for her hand from Mr. Mendelhall.

It pained Philippa to say no to him, for she liked him exceedingly well, and he had been kind to her. So had his mother.

“I daresay,” he said when she refused him in the book room where her father had summoned her before leaving the two of them together, “it is Crabbe, is it, Miss Dean? And that was an unmannerly question to ask. Do please forgive me. I wish you well, and I hope we may remain friends.”

“I hope so too,” she told him unhappily.

She had indeed danced on several occasions with Julian. She had sat beside him at a private concert, driven
twice in the park with him, conversed with him at various parties and soirees, and met him once by chance on Bond Street when she was with her mother. He had invited them on that occasion to partake of tea and cakes with him at a nearby pastry cook’s. She and her mother called upon Lady Charles Crabbe one afternoon when she was entertaining, and Julian put in an appearance there and conversed with them for a few minutes before moving on to speak with other ladies.

Lady Charles paid particular attention to Philippa during the visit, even taking her hand in her own at one point and keeping it there longer than was necessary while they conversed with someone else.

It seemed an endless six weeks to Philippa. But she honored Julian’s determination to do things correctly at last, for of course their two-year correspondence had been anything but correct. He wanted to win the trust and approval of her parents.

And it seemed to be working.

“He is a pleasant young man,” Philippa’s mother commented after the visit to Lady Charles. “A dutiful son and attentive to all her guests, which I know men find difficult when all those guests are ladies. I believe he favors you, Philippa.”