people standing about in the hall to notice if she behaved that rudely.
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Caroline did not tell you?”
Phoebe winced and finally looked at him. “What ought my sister-in-law to have told me?” She knew, when she saw his smile reappear, that he’d had something to do with the invitation that had surprised her when it had arrived.
“The countess is a friend to my mother, and she has met Caroline often enough that when I suggested she extend the invitation to your family, she agreed at once. I am delighted you are here.” He did not seem to boast. The cheerfulness in his tone sounded genuine.
How could the man prove both irritating and charming?
Gritting her teeth, Phoebe offered him a tight smile. “Most kind of you to think of us, Mr. Fenwick.”
He offered his arm, and she had no choice but to take it. “Might I secure a set of dances with you, Miss Kimball? The next set to begin, if you have not yet promised them elsewhere.”
Dreadful man. Unless she wanted to spend the whole of the evening in a chair, she had to agree.
“My first set is yours, Mr. Fenwick.” If only he did not appear so pleased, she might have forgiven him. He did not seem to understand, not in the slightest, that she held him in some contempt.
They had barely entered the ballroom, which was actually several large rooms with doors flung open to connect them all, when the music ended. Their first engagement upon the dancefloor was to begin at once.
Phoebe saw Caroline and Joseph standing near the wall. When they spotted her, Caroline’s expression changed from merely cheerful to something bordering on excitement. Joseph, ever the protective older brother, merely raised his eyebrows. If Mr. Fenwick noticed them at all, he gave no indication as he swept her toward the couples arranging themselves upon the floor.
The countess never gave out invitations on a whim, as all of Society knew, so her ball could not be called a crush. But thirty couples stood ready to dance, and more lined the walls. A set would easily take up half an hour, and perhaps a quarter more depending on the forms. Giving so much time to Mr. Fenwick made Phoebe sigh as she took up her position. Finding enough gentlemen to repopulate her list of eligible bachelors in a single evening had already felt like a challenge without such devotion of time to someone completely unsuitable.
As she stood across from the gentleman, Phoebe kept her expression bored. The man seemingly went through life with the goal of self-amusement. She would give him nothing to laugh over that evening.
He grinned at her anyway.
“I have been pondering something, Miss Kimball.” He stepped forward and took her hand, raising it above them both and stepping back again.
“Have you?” Phoebe refused to show interest, pretending to concentrate on the movements of the dance.
“Yes. Your name.”
She did not trip, but she did narrow her eyes at him. She lightly skipped to one side as the steps called for. “I cannot see how my name could possibly give you more than a moment’s thought.”
“Your Christian name is quite lovely and unique. I cannot say I know of many ladies with such a name. It comes from mythology, I believe. Is it not the name of a Titaness? The first ruler of the moon, according to the Greeks.” He smiled as though he had said something particularly clever.
Phoebe felt her nose wrinkle before she hastily reminded herself such an expression was not ladylike. “I do know the origins of my name, sir.”
“Of course. But I wonder how it came to be chosen for you. Knowing such things, I believe, is telling.” He did not appear the least put off by her expression. The dance took them away from each other for several moments. When she returned to stand before him he spoke as though there had been no interruption. “Who named you? Your father or mother?”
Though reluctant to engage in any conversation which might be perceived as meaningful, Phoebe knew he would not allow her to ignore the question entirely. “My mother suggested it. Her Christian name is Mary. She never liked that there were a great many who shared her name.”
“She wished your name, and you, to be unique.” Mr. Fenwick nodded sagely, though his eyes brightened. “My mother named me with the same thought. Everyone on my father’s side argued with her, thinking I ought to be named something sensible