“Forgive me,” Lord Brightstone said slowly. “I wasn’t aware of an outstanding invitation. Had I been asked to tea?”
Cecelia stared at him in offended shock. The earl had always possessed exceptional manners. Why was he failing so dreadfully now?
Good heavens, she might have to explain herself. A sharp discomfort twisted in her stomach. “After our dance last evening, I had anticipated you would call on me.”
He blinked as though surprised. His mouth opened and closed several times, but he said nothing for a spell. It would be polite for Cecelia to fill the silence with something benign, but she had been so taken aback by his lack of consideration that truly nothing came to mind.
A look of confusion crinkled his brow.
Her cheeks blazed.
After all, they had done more than simply dance. How could he forget her so easily?
Lord Brightstone shifted once more, shuffling his feet awkwardly as if he didn’t know where to go. While he appeared rather uncomfortable, he met her eyes with his usual genuine openness. “It would appear that I have failed you in some way, Lady Cecelia. For that, I am truly sorry. I have always held you in the highest esteem and have no wish to disappoint. If the offer for tea is still available, I should like to accept.”
Was he trying to placate her with platitudes?
Did her humiliation know no end?
Her thoughts raced for a reply. Certainly, she wouldn’t force the man to take tea with her, held hostage by guilt’s strong hold.
“If I may…” A voice said as a dark-haired man entered their conversation without being offered an invitation to do so. “Perhaps asking the lady to dance would be beneficial?”
Lord Brightstone’s mouth twitched. He offered an apologetic look toward Cecelia. “Forgive me, but I still do not dance.“
Cecelia frowned in surprise at this. After all, they had danced the night before.
Hadn’t they?
He hadn’t contradicted her when she said they had.
“I didn’t mean you should do so,” the dark-haired man said to Lord Brightstone.
Cecilia turned to the stranger as he held out his hand in invitation and grinned at her.
While Lord Brightstone was handsome in a quiet, understated way, this man was rakishly so and far too alluring for his good. His lips lifted at the corners in ready amusement, his eyes alight with assessment and appreciation. No doubt his tongue was primed for offering flattery as well.
He was decidedly the sort of man she had no interest in becoming acquainted. Her life had enough chaos without adding a rake.
Or at least, it used to…
Lord Brightstone shifted slightly to put himself in front of Cecelia. “I say, sir, have you even been introduced?”
The stranger smiled with an intimacy that made Cecelia’s pulse skip. “We know each other very well.“
He let the sentence hang, long enough for her to blush furiously. How could she possibly know this rogue who interrupted conversations and looked at her in a way that made her whole body burn?
The stranger bowed. “I am Philip Willcott, Earl of Chambrook. It has been an age since we’ve seen each other, Lady Cecelia, but we used to play together on your father’s estate when we were children.”
Her mouth fell open in what was undoubtedly not a most becoming manner. This charming rogue was the lanky boy who had raced over the country estate with her? But then, suddenly she saw it in his smiling green eyes, the same as when he’d been young. Ten years had stretched between them, turning her into a woman and him very much into a man.
One who was far too handsome for his own good. And one whom she found herself immediately curious to become reacquainted.
Philip could not pull his gaze from Cecelia. She was even more captivating as herself than when she had been dressed as Hermia.
Her honey-blonde hair was piled on her head with glossy curls, her eyes bright with surprise and interest as she regarded him. The mask was gone now, displaying high, elegant cheekbones and carefully arched brows.
“Philip?” she asked in a quiet voice.
