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“Good heavens, please don’t call him my Mr Ravenel What does he look like?”
“Dark haired, clean-shaven and quite sun-browned Tall, with shoulders as broad as a plowentlemen, and—oh, my He has a smile like a hot summer day”
“That would be Mr Ravenel,” Phoebe muttered
“Well I recall Henry describing hihtly as she peeked over Phoebe’s shoulder once rowth spurt”
“Looks are irrelevant It’s the inner man that counts”
Laughter threaded through Merritt’s voice “I suppose you’re right But the inner Mr Ravenel happens to be quite beautifully packaged”
Phoebe bit back a grin “And you, a
“Married ladies have eyes,” came Merritt’s demure reply, her face alive with mischief
Chapter 6
As usual, the guests entered the dining rooe or fortune, the first people in line were those whose title, or patent of nobility, was the oldest That hest rank, even though Phoebe’s father held a dukedom
Accordingly, Devon, Lord Trenear, escorted Lady Westcliff, while Lord Westcliff escorted Kathleen The rest of the guests followed in prearranged pairs Phoebe was relieved to discover she would be accompanied by Westcliff’s oldest son, Lord Foxhall, who, boldly handsome man in his twenties, an avid sportsman like his father As the earl’s heir, he had been accorded a viscountcy, but he and Phoebe were far too familiar to stand on ceremony
“Fox,” she exclai her face
“Cousin Phoebe” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his dark eyes snapping with lively humor “It seems I’m your escort Bad luck for you”
“To ood luck—how could it be otherwise?”
“With all the eligible men present, you should be with one who doesn’t re down one of the banisters at Stony Cross Manor”
Phoebe’s shed wistfully and shook her head “Oh, Fox Those days are long gone, aren’t they?”
“You still have ently
“None of us kno much time we have”
Foxhall offered his arm “Then let’s eat, drink and be merry while we’re able”
Theyrooht The s and support rails carved like twisted rope, had been covered with pristine white linen A row of broad silver baskets filled with billows of June roses rested on a long runner of frothy green e the rooarden Each place at the table had been set with glittering Irish crystal, Sèvres porcelain, and no fewer than twenty-four pieces of antique Georgian silver flatware per guest
Long rows of footentlemen seated the ladies Lord Foxhall pulled out Phoebe’s chair, and she moved toward the table But she froze as she saw the ht
On the place card beside hers, a naraphy: Mr Weston Ravenel
Her stomach plummeted
Mr Ravenel turned toward her and hesitated, appearing no less surprised than she He cut an i clothes The white shirt and necktie contrasted sharply with the alow of his skin, while the tailored black coat e breadth of his shoulders
The way he stared at her was too focused, tooso She couldn’t decide what to do, only looked back at his
Mr Ravenel’s gaze flicked down to the place cards and back to her face “I had nothing to do with the seating arrangements”
“Obviously,” Phoebe replied crisply, her thoughts in turentleman usually directed the majority of his attention and conversation to the lady on his left She was going to have to talk to him for the entire meal
As she cast a distracted glance around the rooht of Gabriel
Seeing her dilean to mouth the words, Do you want me to—
Phoebe gave a quick little shake of her head No, she would not , even if she had to sit next to Lucifer hiement she would have preferred to this one
“Is so amiss?” came Lord Foxhall’s quiet voice near her left ear She realized he was still waiting to seat her
Gathering her wits, Phoebe replied with a forced s is splendid” She occupied the chair, arranging her skirts deftly
Mr Ravenel re at the smooth space between his dark brows “I’ll find soe places with me,” he said quietly
“For heaven’s sake, just sit,” Phoebe whispered
He occupied the chair cautiously, as if it aze met hers “I’m sorry for the way I behaved earlier”