possibly more.
No amount of scolding by her governess had ever stopped her climbing trees or hiking her skirts up to paddle in a stream. Matilda knew what protected her from much of the criticism for her often appalling behaviour. Even though the world now knew her to be the illegitimate daughter of Montagu’s younger brother—despite some gossipy souls still insisting she was truly Lucian’s daughter—there were few who could resist her particular brand of vivacious charm. The fact she was a wealthy heiress did not much damage her marriage prospects, either, and her behaviour only deterred those of the highest birth… and not all of them at that. Yet few dared incur the wrath of her powerful papa. Where other girls would have been censured, Phoebe was called an original, and deemed full of life. Mostly. Lucian could not protect her from everything. There were those who were cruel about her origins, not that Phoebe seemed to take the slights to heart, retribution being far more her style. It was becoming apparent she had inherited not only her looks from the Montagu line. She had given them both some heart-stopping moments over her first season and the beginnings of this, her second.
“Did none of the young men who offered appeal to you at all, darling?” Matilda asked, a little curious. “Not that there is any rush, of course, but Lord Grant seems a charming fellow.”
Phoebe laughed as she tugged on her gloves, shaking her head. “Oh, he is. Charlie is a lamb, and a particularly good friend, but I could never marry him. What a ghastly idea. He should drive me to distraction. Do you know, I don’t believe he’s ever read a book in his life?”
Matilda nodded, amused, and a little regretful for poor Lord Grant, who was doomed to failure. He wasn’t the only one.
“Ellisborough is here,” she said lightly.
“Is he?” Phoebe said, frowning as she searched for her other glove. “That’s good. At least Papa won’t be bored. Oh, drat the thing where has it gone?”
“Here, love.” Matilda retrieved the glove from the floor where it had been dropped and handed it to her. “He’s not come to entertain Papa, Phoebe.”
“Hmmm?” Phoebe yanked up her full skirts so she could see to wriggle her feet into her slippers. “Why else, then? He’s Papa’s friend.”
Matilda sighed. It was true, Maximillian Carmichael, Earl of Ellisborough, was Lucian’s friend, introduced to him by St Clair. He was not of their generation, however. It was likely the scattering of grey in his dark hair that gave him the impression of sophisticated elegance, added to the somewhat world weary air about him. An exceedingly handsome and eligible fellow, with broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, Max had seen life and it had not always been kind to him, yet in reality he was only eight and twenty. Phoebe, however, had given the poor fellow something close to benevolent uncle status, and refused to regard him any other way.
“Ready!” she exclaimed with a squeal and then rushed from the room before Matilda could say another word.
“You might be,” Matilda said, laughing in the silence her vivacious daughter had left behind. “Somehow, I doubt the rest of us are.”
***
Phoebe bit her lip and stared down at her empty bowl. The chocolate roulade had been delicious, and she very much wanted another serving. Her stays were already pinching, though. She frowned at her bowl a bit longer, considering, when a discreet cough made her look up. Denton was at her elbow. He gave her a surreptitious wink, slid another helping into her bowl, and retreated. Phoebe smothered her grin of appreciation and tucked in.
The table was alive with animated conversation and many of her favourite people were here. The Earl of St Clair and his wife, Harriet, and the earl’s brother Jerome, with Bonnie. Phoebe adored Bonnie, who was terribly droll and almost as good at getting into scrapes as Phoebe was herself. Helena and Gabe were here, too. Helena looked ravishing in a stunning gown of deep emerald silk, studded with black jet beads that twinkled when she moved. There were also a selection of eligible bachelors, and some of Phoebe’s friends. The children had all gone to bed now, which was rather a shame as Phoebe adored them. She hoped to have a big family when she finally married… if ever she could discover a man in whose company she could imagine being for a lifetime. She wanted a grand passion, the kind