Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) Read Free Page A

Romance did not figure in the fight for status and rank.
    It was the London season that opened her eyes to the world of desire. The feelings she experienced dancing with the young bucks and dandies was far different from what she felt for Hector. It was such an exciting time, of hands sweetly touching, of stolen kisses behind the shrubbery and whispered longings. She could never think of Hector in that way. But her mama shrugged off her misgivings, t’was only a young girl’s foolish fancy. She had to commit to it, or her whole family faced being ostracized. She was trapped.

    The dining room boasted red and cream striped silk walls much warmer, than the forbidding stone walls of the baronial hall and the vast drawing room. Gilt and gold framed portraits of more family ancestors gazed down with a somewhat imperious stance from blackened canvasses.  Candles flickered over the silver candelabra and cutlery, whilst centrepieces of fruits and flowers adorned the immense table capable of seating over fifty guests at one sitting.
    Thankfully, Demetrius sat some three places down from her. A lawyer, with a parsimonious face and liberal paunch sat on one side of him, whilst on the other was Lady Tennant, an elderly matron with overly long ostrich feathers waving from a bandana.  Phillipa could not suppress a smile, as she watched her turn to mutter something to him, her feathers flicking his forehead.  Nevertheless, he still managed to stare, his mouth mocking.  What was wrong with the man? He seemed enamoured of her, yet cruel at the same time. The word sadist sprang to mind, not a term with which she was familiar, but she did recall it referred to someone who enjoyed hurting people.  If his pinches were anything to go by, then he deserved the term. She just wished Hector was aware, as she certainly could not tell him, not wishing to be the cause of a duel between brothers.
    Looking up to the footman pouring some wine into her glass, she smiled a thank you, before looking over to Hector sitting opposite. Beaming, he lifted his glass ‘To my bride to be. I declare you look beautiful, unusual colour red too.’
    ‘Tis the new Turkey red, I loved it when I saw it. I am not sure of all the ruches and ruffles, but tis the fashion; I suppose.’
    Amelia seated beside her, quipped, ‘The Valenciennes lace is adorable Phillipa; I am quite envious.’
    ‘Well you shouldn’t be; your peach spider net over the white satin is outré a la mode and the rosettes in your hair perfectly match those on the puffed sleeves. Your parure is exquisite.’ She smiled impishly at Hector, ‘I think for once I covet your sister’s jewels.’
    ‘Would you ever wear it sweetheart? You are embroiled in etching and horses to spare too much time for fripperies.’
    ‘Hah, so you deem diamonds and sapphires as fripperies?’
    ‘Well called you little minx. However, I do not see you aspiring to frequent the balls and such.’ 
    ‘On that you are so right. Oh Hector, I just wish the nuptials were over; I do dislike ceremony.’
    ‘I know, but I look forward to seeing you in your wedding apparel.’
    ‘I would far rather be riding over the heathland than presiding at the top table, with all the guests looking up at us. I am not the nervous type, but I confess, I find the idea of it rather overwhelming.’
    ‘Well there will be few guests, the war clouds gather, and many of the officers and their families now travel to Brussels or are already instated.’
    ‘I hear the Duke and Duchess of Richmond are already there, and some of their daughters. Those Lennox sisters, have a reputation for dancing ‘til the early hours. The Duchess is high in the instep, but the girls are very sweet, though rather de trop at times. At least the officers may dance with some lovely girls before the battle.  It will lift their spirits.’ ’
    Picking up on their conversation, a dour lady with a dark grey turban over sparse grey curls, wearing an equally sombre dark