Scandal Meets Its Match (The May Flowers #7) - Merry Farmer Page 0,74

Enough of the guests had dressed in corresponding colors that the ball had a decidedly harvest flavor. It reminded Phin of the country dances he, Lionel, Hazel, and the girls had attended before they’d all grown up and settled into a decidedly more complicated life. Part of him wondered if that was the message Lionel was sending, that life went on, seasons changed, and balls would still be balls, no matter how tangled his personal life became.

A flurry of giggles from a cluster of debutantes caught Phin’s attention as he made it to one of the corners of the room. One, casual glance revealed that the otherwise respectable ladies were clustered around a copy of Nocturne. Phin wasn’t sure if he should wince or feel proud that his work was still a profitable diversion for himself and Jameson. He inched close enough to the ladies to discover they were reading the latest edition of the periodical, the one he’d dropped off with Jameson before his world turned upside down as a way to divert attention from his ill-thought-out story centering around Lady Agnes.

He moved on around the room, spotting at least two more clandestine groups of ladies—and one red-faced gentleman—reading the latest issue. Perhaps things would blow over with Nocturne after all. Society was always hungry for the next scandal, which meant they were willing to drop the previous one as long as—

“Don’t you leer at my daughter like that, sir,” Lady Hamilton’s voice snapped all too near to where Phin walked. “I know what you’re thinking, don’t think I don’t.”

Phin grimaced and stepped carefully behind a stout lord who was chattering away with a pair of middle-aged ladies so that he could watch Lady Hamilton without immediate risk of being seen in return. So help him, if Lionel had deliberately tossed him into Lady Hamilton’s path as a way to amuse himself, brother or no, Phin would wring his neck. Lady Hamilton was as bombastic a presence in the ballroom as she always was, dressed in peacock blue with plumes from the same bird adorning her head. But what caught Phin’s attention even more than her was Lady Agnes standing half a step behind her mother.

Lady Agnes was dressed in a greener shade of the same peacock colors, but wore them far more elegantly. Her eyes were downcast, though, and her face was bright pink. She had the look of a woman who wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Phin instantly recalled what Lenore had said about her friend who had a mortal fear of crowds. Lady Agnes certainly looked as though she were about to expire with misery.

“I know what sort of evil thoughts men have these days,” Lady Hamilton blustered on to the hapless gentleman she’d cornered. Phin wondered what the poor man had done to get Lady Hamilton’s attention. “My Agnes is an angel, pure and beautiful. She does not deserve the wicked things I know you are thinking about her after that horrid publication.”

“Mama,” Lady Agnes whispered, barely loud enough for Phin to hear. “Please stop reminding people. They would forget if not for you.”

Phin was inclined to agree with her. His guilty conscience pricked him to do something, to save Lady Agnes from her mother. He even went so far as to take a step forward before Lionel appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and executed a strange turn as he passed Lady Agnes. The result was that he trod on the hem of her gown, knocking her very slightly off balance.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon.” Lionel instantly apologized, turning to Lady Agnes and making a fuss. “How clumsy of me. But I must say—” His expression filled with genuine pleasure. “—that gown is exquisite. Don’t you think so, Lord Compton?”

Lionel stepped gracefully to the side, maneuvering a young man with reddish hair and freckles that Phin wouldn’t have noticed if he’d been standing inches away from him directly into Lady Agnes’s view.

“You l-l-look l-l-lovely,” the man struggled to say, blushing up a storm and gazing at Lady Agnes as though she’d arrived at the ball on a clamshell, escorted by the east wind.

Phin frowned, wondering what the hell his brother was up to. His Lord Compton was pale and slight and looked as though he would shriek at the sight of a spider. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man who—

“Do you really think so?” Lady Agnes asked, her eyes shining at the compliment as though it had come from