Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) Read Free Page A

civility.
    “We will dine in our sitting-room this evening,” said Lady Carruthers.
    “Dinner for all is served in the dining-room, Lady Carruthers.”
    “Am I to eat in a common dining-room?”
    “The Prince Regent was not too high in the instep to do so.” Lady Fortescue moved to the door. “Dinner is at eight.”
    “Eight!” exclaimed Arabella after she had gone. “Dinner in the country is at four.”
    “You must get used to London ways.”
    “Talking about getting used to London ways, Mama, I have been meaning to ask you: When am I making my come-out?”
    “My dear child, you are too young!”
    “I am all of nineteen.”
    Lady Carruthers winced and then said with an affected vagueness. “You surprise me.”
    “But it is true, and I am still in these dreadful frocks and with my hair down.”
    Arabella privately thought her mother’s wardrobe of jeune fille gowns should be altered to fit herself while her mother dressed her age.
    “The point is,” said Lady Carruthers, “that it is hard to remember your age when I look so young. I am used to the state of marriage and do not like being a widow. That is why we are come to London.”
    “I do not understand you, Mama.”
    Her mother gave a well-practised trill of laughter. “Why, it is my come-out. I cannot appear at the Season like a débutante. So much more discreet to come to London now. There are plenty of eligible men around.”
    Arabella thought of the handsome man she had seen with a sort of despair. She would never get out in society. Mama would fail and they would return to the country for the long winter and then back to Town for Mama to try again while she, Arabella, grew older and dowdier and the earl married someone else. Of course, he might be married already. She almost hoped he were then she would not have to think about him every minute, which is what she had been doing since she had seen him.
    She missed having friends. It would be wonderful to have a friend to confide in, to talk to about the earl, to share her dreams.
    She thought wearily that she would probably never see the earl again.
    ***
    Sir Philip made his way into Limmer’s coffee room. It was thin of company but he took a table, ordered a bottle of wine and looked about him with his sharp old eyes. Limmer’s catered for the sporting fraternity, and there were two Corinthians slouched at one table. One of them had his muddy boots up on the seat opposite and the other had his teeth filed to a point so that he could spit through them like a coachman. There were three men in the livery of the Four-in-Hand Club at another table, talking horseflesh in loud, drawling voices. Sir Philip knew them all. Not much hope there, he thought.
    And then a tall man walked in and stood in the centre of the room, looking about him with an easy air of authority. His golden hair curled under the rim of his curly-brimmed beaver, which he had not removed, showing he did not plan to stay in the coffee room above ten minutes, as did the stick and gloves he held in one white hand. His face was classically handsome. Sir Philip judged him to be in his early thirties. He summoned the waiter and asked in an urgent whisper who the newcomer was.
    “The Earl of Denby,” whispered the waiter. “Resident here.”
    Sir Philip rose to his feet, bared his china teeth in an ingratiating smile, and said, “Lord Denby! What a pleasure to see you, my lord.”
    The earl looked in surprise at the old gentleman who was leering at him. Must be some friend of mother’s, he thought. He crossed to Sir Philip’s table.
    “Your servant, sir,” he said. “But I have a poor memory and you have the advantage of me.”
    “Sir Philip Sommerville, at your service. Pray join me in a glass of wine.”
    The earl sat down reluctantly.
    “When did we meet?” he asked. “Was it at my mother’s?”
    “Ah, that would be it,” said Sir Philip mendaciously. “I am surprised to see you in a hotel such as this, my lord. Town