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Mrs Millington frowned, the import of the story obviously beginning to sink in. ‘That is true. There was nothing more that might have made things worse, I trust?’
Phyllida could feel the blush mounting in her cheeks. ‘Lord Clere was loosening my clothing and the landlady assumed I was enceinte.’
‘What? Oh my heavens, the scandal! What is Clere doing about it?’
‘I have no idea,’ Phyllida said. ‘He is an acquaintance of Gregory’s, but—’
‘Here he comes,’ Mrs Millington said, sounding not a little flustered. ‘And there is Lady Castlebridge.’
As a lady should, Phyllida showed no sign of having seen the approaching viscount, but continued to exchange meaningless pleasantries with the Millingtons. To her relief, they were continuing to talk to her. So far.
‘Miss Hurst.’ Did she remember his voice as being as deep, as carrying? Heads turned. The little group around Lady Castlebridge watched, agog. ‘I am so relieved to see you here. Are you quite well now, ma’am?’
‘Well?’ What was he doing? Why on earth was he speaking in such carrying tones? The entire reception would hear.
‘After your collapse this morning at the inn.’ An expression of dismay that she knew perfectly well was feigned crossed his face. ‘My apologies, ma’am, I should have realised that no lady would wish it bruited abroad that she had been taken ill.’ His voice was hardly any less carrying. ‘But it appears you were correct and the effects of the bad fish have worn off.’
‘Lord Clere.’
He turned to Mrs Millington and bowed. Phyllida introduced them hastily.
‘Ma’am?’
‘You were able to assist Miss Hurst this morning?’
‘Ineptly,’ he said with a laugh. Phyllida realised that all eyes were on them and that Lady Castlebridge was frowning in apparent confusion. ‘I should have done better to have laid Miss Hurst down on a settle until her maid came back from the apothecary. But what must I do, but catch her up in my arms—a fine sight for Lady Castlebridge to come across, indeed.’
So that was how he was going to try to play this! All she could do was to join him in brazening it out. ‘Mrs Millington, I cannot tell you how embarrassing it was,’ Phyllida said brightly. ‘There was the landlady, giving her opinion as to why I was ill, for anyone to hear, the gallant Lord Clere with an armful of fainting lady en déshabillé and dear Lady Castlebridge not knowing what to do for the best.’
She turned and appealed, smiling, to the bridling countess, ‘Confess, ma’am—was it not the most complete farce? If I had not been in the middle of it all and feeling so unwell, I would have been in ripples of laughter.’
‘It had all the appearance of a most irregular situation,’ her ladyship snapped. All around people were joining in with Phyllida’s laughter and her lovely scandal was turning on its head.
‘Exactly.’ Phyllida forced a chuckle. ‘Oh dear, I should not laugh, I know, for there is poor Lord Clere, who has hardly set foot in London, suspected of elopement or worse.’
‘Miss Hurst,’ Ashe said with considerable warmth. ‘Any gentleman of sense would surely wish to carry you off.’
Phyllida found herself in the midst of a crowd. Ladies enquired sympathetically about her health, shooting dagger-glances at Lady Castlebridge who, it seemed, had made one bitchy remark too many to win friends. The men slapped Ashe on the back and told him what a slow-top he was not to have carried off Miss Hurst while he had the chance.
‘That,’ Mrs Millington remarked close to Phyllida’s ear, ‘was a masterly piece of strategy on Lord Clere’s part. I can only hope it was enough.’
‘Indeed,’ her husband muttered. ‘
If this does not die down, I must reconsider Harriet’s position.’
‘Of course,’ Phyllida whispered back, her stomach cramping with nerves. ‘I do understand, but I am certain… If you will excuse me,’ she added, more loudly, ‘I think I should sit down. Perhaps I was a little ambitious in coming out this evening after all.’
‘I hope I may take you driving in Hyde Park tomorrow,’ Ashe said. Several young ladies pouted in chagrin at not being asked. ‘Eleven o’clock?’
‘Thank you, the fresh air would be delightful.’ He bowed and strolled off, leaving Phyllida to wave her fan to and fro and try to congratulate herself on a lucky escape. Because, of course, she could not marry Ashe Herriard, she did not want to marry him and to feel at all disappointed that she was not now compelled to was positively perverse.
She cast a glance up at Mr Millington’s stony countenance and tried to convince herself this was going to be all right. It must be, for Gregory’s sake.
Chapter Fourteen
‘I should wait and have a word with Clere.’
Phyllida adjusted her bonnet before the drawing-room mirror and wondered if her brother had reformed rather too far. ‘There is absolutely no need. We discussed it last night and you heard yourself how cleverly he turned the gossip on Lady Castlebridge.’ Gregory was still hovering. ‘Go and take Harriet out for a walk as you promised. It is a lovely day.’
