gossip as much as anyone else, and Phillip was ripe for the picking. Everyone appeared to be curious about him, as if he was some new species just discovered. He half-expected someone to start drawing his portrait with as many glances he received.
It was due in large part to his appearance. Being clean shaven and dressed in finery, as well as not breathing fire on grandmothers and the blind, must have done his reputation some good. But, in all of Almack’s, there still was no woman who gained his attention.
Well, it was not completely true, but the one woman who managed to gain his favor also had the attention of every other male—even some of the married ones. And although he wouldn’t mind dancing with the girl, it was his job to protect her, so he watched as closely as he could.
Phillip’s control was splendidly in check right up until Whitmore approached Abby and held out his hand for a dance. She seemed to stiffen and then looked next to her at Lady Rosalind, who appeared ready to attack. But Whitmore tugged at Abigail. Nearly tripping, she followed him to the floor.
Phillip watched helplessly as Whitmore’s hands moved seductively down her spine toward her backside. Quickly, Phillip scanned the room for Sebastian. He found him deep in discussion with Renwick on the far side of the room. With the crush, it would be impossible to reach him. Knowing he had to take things into his own hands, he continued to move through the crowds until Abby would be able to make eye contact with him.
“ Look at me, just look at me,” he whispered out loud.
Her alarmed gaze locked with his. She shook her head once, conveying a message. And then the minx laughed as Whitmore stormed off.
She made her way toward a disturbed Phillip. “Was it my imagination, or did Whitmore just storm off in the middle of a dance? How did you get him to leave you?”
Shrugging, Abigail took his outstretched arm. “I merely told him I had heard it announced that his brother had returned from India.”
“ Inspired.” Phillip laughed. “Can you imagine what Whitmore would do? He’s been blasted cocky since the announcement of his brother’s death. Didn’t even mourn the man, just relished the idea of inheriting the title and Lady Rosalind.”
“ Yes, I saw her dancing with you. She is such a dear friend.”
Phillip smiled. “Yes, I am aware.”
“ What has you grinning so much, Rawlings?”
“ Pay me no heed. It has been a strange night. Are you thirsty, my dear?”
Abby squinted her eyes, possibly trying to decide if Rawlings was indeed going mad. This was the most he had smiled in years. “Yes, some watered down lemonade would be nice.” She grimaced but was obviously hot. The room was crammed to its gills with people.
“ Ah, no champagne?” he challenged.
Whispering, she leaned in. “Can you keep a secret?”
“ Probably not, but you should tell me regardless,” he admitted.
“ I’ve never had champagne.”
“ Never had—”
“ Shhh! Rawlings, everyone will hear you!”
“ Doubtful. This crush is worse than expected. Well, we shall remedy the situation immediately. Follow me.”
Like two small children sneaking off, they tiptoed around the corner, passing several serving trays with champagne flutes. Phillip discreetly grabbed two and motioned for her to be quiet. It wasn’t the first time he had stolen champagne and probably wouldn’t be the last. His reputation did come from somewhere, after all.
Abigail was giggling as she grasped his hand tightly. Phillip managed to keep his excitement at bay. Her fingers, so delicate and small, seemed somehow right as they fit into his hand. His fingers tingled, and he cursed himself for allowing such an innocent gesture to completely undo him.
He pulled her out the back of the assembly hall into a small room, which appeared to be the cozy space meant for coats. Handing her the flutes, he took a moment to check their surroundings and looked into her eyes. In
It was due in large part to his appearance. Being clean shaven and dressed in finery, as well as not breathing fire on grandmothers and the blind, must have done his reputation some good. But, in all of Almack’s, there still was no woman who gained his attention.
Well, it was not completely true, but the one woman who managed to gain his favor also had the attention of every other male—even some of the married ones. And although he wouldn’t mind dancing with the girl, it was his job to protect her, so he watched as closely as he could.
Phillip’s control was splendidly in check right up until Whitmore approached Abby and held out his hand for a dance. She seemed to stiffen and then looked next to her at Lady Rosalind, who appeared ready to attack. But Whitmore tugged at Abigail. Nearly tripping, she followed him to the floor.
Phillip watched helplessly as Whitmore’s hands moved seductively down her spine toward her backside. Quickly, Phillip scanned the room for Sebastian. He found him deep in discussion with Renwick on the far side of the room. With the crush, it would be impossible to reach him. Knowing he had to take things into his own hands, he continued to move through the crowds until Abby would be able to make eye contact with him.
“ Look at me, just look at me,” he whispered out loud.
Her alarmed gaze locked with his. She shook her head once, conveying a message. And then the minx laughed as Whitmore stormed off.
She made her way toward a disturbed Phillip. “Was it my imagination, or did Whitmore just storm off in the middle of a dance? How did you get him to leave you?”
Shrugging, Abigail took his outstretched arm. “I merely told him I had heard it announced that his brother had returned from India.”
“ Inspired.” Phillip laughed. “Can you imagine what Whitmore would do? He’s been blasted cocky since the announcement of his brother’s death. Didn’t even mourn the man, just relished the idea of inheriting the title and Lady Rosalind.”
“ Yes, I saw her dancing with you. She is such a dear friend.”
Phillip smiled. “Yes, I am aware.”
“ What has you grinning so much, Rawlings?”
“ Pay me no heed. It has been a strange night. Are you thirsty, my dear?”
Abby squinted her eyes, possibly trying to decide if Rawlings was indeed going mad. This was the most he had smiled in years. “Yes, some watered down lemonade would be nice.” She grimaced but was obviously hot. The room was crammed to its gills with people.
“ Ah, no champagne?” he challenged.
Whispering, she leaned in. “Can you keep a secret?”
“ Probably not, but you should tell me regardless,” he admitted.
“ I’ve never had champagne.”
“ Never had—”
“ Shhh! Rawlings, everyone will hear you!”
“ Doubtful. This crush is worse than expected. Well, we shall remedy the situation immediately. Follow me.”
Like two small children sneaking off, they tiptoed around the corner, passing several serving trays with champagne flutes. Phillip discreetly grabbed two and motioned for her to be quiet. It wasn’t the first time he had stolen champagne and probably wouldn’t be the last. His reputation did come from somewhere, after all.
Abigail was giggling as she grasped his hand tightly. Phillip managed to keep his excitement at bay. Her fingers, so delicate and small, seemed somehow right as they fit into his hand. His fingers tingled, and he cursed himself for allowing such an innocent gesture to completely undo him.
He pulled her out the back of the assembly hall into a small room, which appeared to be the cozy space meant for coats. Handing her the flutes, he took a moment to check their surroundings and looked into her eyes. In
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