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Yes.Yet she could not voice the words.
“You do not need to answer,” Lady Drusilla said, “We can see that you do.”
As if they silently communicated on the matter, her friends adroitly changed the subject, guided her from the room to the second-floor drawing room, and engaged her in several rounds of card playing. Sprawled upon the lush carpet on her belly, a fierce rush of love went through Pippa for these ladies. Determined to not cast a shadow on their merriment, she laughed and played with them, trying her best to not reveal how much her heart was aching with part hope and part agony.
A few dayslater at Lady Cantrell’s ball, Phillipa felt as if her heart would shatter. A very silly feeling that she must endure in her logical mind warned her, but she could not dismiss the sensations crawling through her with such intensity.
“He is taking her punch,” Evie said, scowling at Lady Priscilla. “We need to take her out of the game.”
Pippa choked on her champagne, trying to ignore the mutterings from her friends. Clearly they wanted her to win in whatever they imagined was happening. Her heart gave a frightful squeeze, and she admitted that she also wanted to win. She could feel Agatha’s considering stare upon her, and when she met her friend’s gaze there was soft understanding and sympathy.
That sympathy crushed Pippa. She needed to leave before she did something foolish like show her emotions to the world. Or march over to William and…and what? She murmured her excuses to her friends and found her mother amongst her set.
“Mama, I have a terrible headache, perhaps I might leave early?”
Knowing eyes settled on her face before they cut to the marquess where he was in conversation with the duke’s daughter and her set. He appeared far too charmingly attentive to Lady Priscilla, and she peered up at him as if she had found her center.
Her mother looped her hand through Pippa’s. “I think you should stay a bit longer. The marquess might ask you to dance yet.”
Oh, no. Pippa stiffened. “Mama—”
“There are whispers he is seeking his marchioness this season.”
She stumbled and her mother’s hand tightened on her arm. “Mama, I believe those are baseless speculations, nothing more,” Pippa said with a sigh. “Furthermore, it has nothing to do with me.”
“The marquess has taken a marked fancy to you, and even the scandal sheets have made mention of his interest, wondering at his intentions,” her mother said, making a small moue of her mouth. “Do not discount it. I can see that you own some feeling for him.”
Pippa flushed. “Mama, the scandal sheets merely mentioned the marquess danced with me twice this season. They also mention all his dances with other ladies. It is nothing remarkable I assure you.”
“And the bouquet he sent you?”
“I am certain he sent them as a courtesy to every lady he has graced with his attentions.”
“And the ride to Hyde Park?”
Alarmingly, a throb started, and she rubbed her forehead gently. Her mother’s expression softened.
“I will summon the carriage—”
“Oh, mama, please, I can return home alone and send it back for you. There is no need to cut your enjoyment short.”
Her mother hesitated. “Are you certain you’ll be well alone, my dear?”
She smiled reassuringly. “Yes, mama. I shall have some tea and then head to bed right away for a good rest.”
Her mother escorted her from the ball, called for the carriage and waited with Pippa for it to arrive. She waited until Pippa had been escorted inside it before she turned away and returned inside. The carriage lurched forward, and thankfully there was no traffic to impede their travels. She leaned her head back on the squabs, not liking the jumble of emotions tearing through her chest.
The ache behind her eyes eased, and Pippa thought she might ask her mother to return to Bath even earlier. Or perhaps she could remind William of the connection between them. Pippa scowled, recalling how perfect he looked dancing with Lady Priscilla.
Pippa sat up as the carriage slowed. Why were they stopping? Surely, they had not yet reached home. Brushing aside the carriage curtains, Pippa peered outside, gasping when she noted a dark figure walking toward their equipage. The door wrenched open and the marquess entered, shrinking the space with his presence. Her heart felt as if it would jump from her chest. “Whatever are you doing?”
His gaze scanned over her, as if assuring himself she was well. It did not warm her, and she narrowed her gaze at him.
“Come with me.”
The earth fell from beneath her, and Pippa’s heart pounded an erratic rhythm. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Perhaps,” he said with an enigmatic smile. “You rushed from the ball as if the devil was at your hells.”
