Like Mama and Papa did.
“Arthur, we must be going in now,” Mama reminded him.
“Yes, of course.” He hugged Helena once again and pressed his lips to her ear. “You’ll know him when you meet him, Helena,” he whispered. “Don’t settle for anyone less.”
Helena grinned, then quickly composed herself before she and Mama stood in line to enter the Wrexham mansion.
“Darling,” Mama said softly with a proud smile, “you look beautiful.”
“So do you, Mama.” Helena thought she saw her blush. Even at thirty-seven, Mama was still a captivating beauty. Tonight, though, Helena sensed a touch of sadness, probably because they were alone. Papa was far too often in America for his business, and Helena knew Mama missed him desperately. Her parents had a very enviable connection, a deep intellectual, physical and emotional bond.
“Mrs. Joseph Phillips and her daughter, Miss Helena Phillips.” The footman’s announcement when they had reached the front of the receiving line revived Helena to her surroundings. The entry hall buzzed with women in gowns the colors of pastels, smiling, laughing, seductively waving fans while gazing up at men of all sizes, shapes and ages but each wearing black evening dress. The dull glow of gas lamps and candles made everyone a little more attractive than they probably actually were.
As Mama and Helena exchanged greetings with Lord and Lady Wrexham, a rather formidable older woman approached, wearing far too much lace and reeking of expensive French perfume.
“Oh my dear Sophie!” the lady exclaimed a bit too loudly. “Excuse me, my lord, Lady Wrexham, I simply must have a word with my friend Mrs. Phillips. You do not mind?”
Clearly her forthright manner was indulged by their hosts. Lord and Lady Wrexham said they certainly did not mind.
She grabbed Mama’s arm affectionately before she spied Helena. “Oh my,” she said with sudden and uncharacteristic delicacy. “This is your daughter, is it not? She is the very image of you.” She exhaled a sigh of marvel and approbation.
“Thank you.” Helena curtsied, then flushed with alarm knowing she must have done something terribly wrong. She had completely forgotten what one did when complimented.
“Charlotte,” Mama acknowledged with a slight bow of her head. “Lady Banbury, this is my daughter Helena. She is just eighteen and is enjoying her first Season.”
Helena knew exactly who Lady Banbury was, besides of course the wife of the Earl of Banbury. Mama had said Lady Banbury knew everybody who was anybody and everything about them, and it was a very good idea to get to know the countess and to do whatever she said.
“Oh my dear,” exclaimed Lady Banbury taking Helena’s arm. “I must introduce you around. Tell me, what have you done so far this year?”
Helena glanced quickly at Mama, who nodded. “I’ve been presented to the queen.”
“Of course you have. I remember when I was presented. Mind you, it was the same queen.” Lady Banbury’s high-pitched laugh put Helena a little more at ease.
“We’ve been to the Royal Academy exhibition,” Helena continued.
“Ah.” The countess nodded. “Their new president, Sir Frederic Leighton, is well represented.”
“Yes,” Mama agreed. “Someone compared his Biondina to Helena.”
Lady Banbury inspected Helena with new interest. “Yes, I think so,” she mused. “So my dear, I suppose you are here to find a husband—”
“Yes, ma’am.” Helena cringed, realizing she had interrupted.
“Good!” Lady Banbury seemed blissfully unaware of any faux pas. “Let me think of some fine young men.” She looked around the ballroom, humming yeas and nays as she spotted various candidates.
With the brash countess at her side, Helena was herself emboldened to scan the room. The sights, the smells, the sounds were wondrous. The finery and the spectacle of the fashions, the glitter of jewelry and crystal in the dim light, the low indistinct hum of conversation and music—
It all vanished when she saw him.
He was tall, elegant in his evening attire, which fit perfectly on his athletic form. His hair was brown—no, something romantic like chestnut…no, something darker…maybe…mahogany. Yes, that’s what it was, dark and sleek and smooth to the touch like gloved fingers sliding along a polished mahogany table. Or perhaps a rich dark frame highlighting the handsomest face she had ever seen, made even handsomer by his obviously affectionate rapport with the woman at his side. He was too far away to see his eyes, but Helena had a very wicked notion of those eyes gazing at her, twinkling with admiration and invitation. Brown. His eyes must be a chocolaty brown.
“Lady Banbury,” Helena dared to ask, “who is that tall man with brown hair standing next to the woman in pale blue?” His stunning companion was absolutely befitting of his own perfection, tall and slender, exquisite in her robin’s-egg-blue sheath, her necklace dripping with amber beads that highlighted the golden brown of her hair and the orange flounce of her underskirts. Her gestures were practiced, controlled, suggesting she was older, more mature, probably not his wife.
Please don’t let her be his wife.
Lady Banbury considered the question for a moment. “Yes, hmm, I don’t know him well. His companion, Lady Foxley-Graham—she knows absolutely everybody, my dear,” she buzzed as if to a confidante. “And has a penchant for moving young men up in Society. Which means he’s quite probably in the professions.” Lady Banbury glanced briefly at Mama. “I’m sure your mother is hoping for someone of higher rank.”
Helena’s heart shattered. It crumbled further when she took one more look at him, smiling and chatting, oblivious to the fact that he had already broken her heart simply by being a solicitor or an engineer. She tried to console herself that he must be a bore. Of course, deep down inside, she knew he wasn’t. Lady Foxley-Graham was laughing too enthusiastically for him to be anything but fascinating. Helena reluctantly peeled her eyes away, tamping down fantasies of herself being fascinated by him in another way.
* * * * *
Sophia found her daughter’s enthusiasm for the task of finding a husband encouraging, despite Helena’s disappointment that the young man she was most interested in was deemed unacceptable. That Helena was undaunted by the formidable Lady Banbury was also heartening. Charlotte was a good ally.
“Oh!” Charlotte chirped in surprise. “Sophie, dear, see that man with the French beard?”
Sophia looked where Charlotte indicated. “The handsome one with a touch of gray?” It was the most polite thing she could say. The man was clearly far too old for her daughter, and she had been afraid that Society’s matrons might suggest a middle-aged man as the most suitable match. He was, however, she had to admit, very attractive. Very attractive.
She sighed quietly. Living apart from her husband for months on end had prompted them to arrive at a unique arrangement. She indulged him his peccadillos and he allowed her to have her own. Neither discussed the matter nor questioned the other. Unless there were complications.
And the devastatingly handsome man with the beard looked as if he could be complicated.
“Yes, yes.” Charlotte gave her a queer look. “Oh no, my dear. Not for Helena,” she lowered her voice, “for you.”
Sophia choked back her utter shock. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean for those times you feel quite distressed and need some professional advice and care. That man is Dr. Julius Christopher. He works with all of Society’s women to cure their complaints. From ennui to hysteria. All the modern ailments,” she drawled, emphasizing the doctor’s keenness for the contemporary. “I know you’ve been feeling morose with your husband gone for such long spells. I’ll introduce you.”
Before Sophia could protest, Charlotte had called the doctor over, and he complied with a confident nonchalance that set him apart from the frenetic buzzing of the ballroom. Even more handsome up close, he exuded a captivating warmth, and as he kissed Charlotte’s hand with a bow, Sophia felt a flutter of envy. “Lady Ba
nbury, how very wonderful to see you.” His bass voice dripped charm. He flashed a raised brow at Sophia, revealing the most magnificent eyes. Cerulean. The color of abandon on a summer’s day.
The fluttering spread to her belly.
“Dr. Christopher, likewise,” Charlotte twittered with glee. “I would like to introduce my very dear friend, Mrs. Joseph Phillips, Lady Sophia.”
Sophia offered her hand and the doctor took it gently, his practiced touch sending an electrifying thrill surging through her, his brilliant blue eyes boring into her perceptively, surely knowing how he was affecting her.
“My lady.”
The low rumble of his voice resonated deliciously in her core.
“Please, Doctor, I am simply Mrs. Phillips.” Sophia withdrew her hand reluctantly, then turned to Helena. “And this is my daughter, Miss Helena Phillips.”
A spark of awe flickered across the doctor’s face. Sophia knew Helena was beautiful but sometimes forgot just how beautiful.
“Miss Phillips.” Dr. Christopher merely offered a slight bow of his head. Anything more would have been presumptuous, of course. Sophia smiled sweetly at him and he returned a devastatingly tempting curl of his lips, inciting her heart to thrum loudly. For once, she was glad for the competing clamor of the ballroom.
“Dr. Christopher,” Charlotte began, “I was just telling Sophie—Mrs. Phillips—how you offer your services to all the fine women of Mayfair.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“We simply could not survive without you.”
“Much gratitude, Lady Banbury.” Dr. Christopher seemed to be quite humbled by the countess’s effusions.
“And what, pray tell, are these services, doctor?” Sophia boldly inquired.
For a moment, Dr. Christopher looked sheepish. “I am a family doctor really, but I do seem to treat mostly mothers and wives. They spend so much time looking after others that they often forget their own needs.”
Sophia’s curiosity was piqued by the vague description. A momentary fantasy of the doctor fulfilling her needs flitted through her mind. “Such as?”
“Well, I—”
Charlotte emitted a little squeal of delight. “Oh my! I must fly! I see Lady Roxton with Lady Foxley-Graham.”
Sophia tightened her lips against a grin. Lady Roxton and Charlotte were rivals in the pursuit of gossip and Lady Foxley-Graham often had tantalizing morsels of information to offer.
“Please,” Charlotte said, turning to Sophia and Dr. Christopher, “excuse me.” She grabbed a surprised Helena’s hand. “Don’t give up hope, my dear. I’ll return shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Lavinia!” Charlotte called out in her shrill voice as she waved and sashayed over to her friends.
Bereft of Charlotte’s distracting ebullience, Sophia found herself suddenly self-conscious in the presence of the alarmingly magnetic Dr. Christopher. Tentatively she caught his eye, and he smiled familiarly, almost seductively, with a charisma that instantly filled the weighty emptiness, wrapping around her, willing her to step ever so slightly nearer to him. His breath seemed to quicken at their closeness, the heat of him penetrated her, fanning the fire already smoldering in her core. She shifted her weight in an attempt to create a touch of distance and flushed at the arousal heavy between her thighs.
“As I was saying, Mrs. Phillips, I offer services to calm the nerves such as water therapies, massage, even conversation.”
“Conversation?” Her lungs tightened against the word with a dizzying constriction.
He offered an alluring expression of gentle assurance. “You would be amazed at how many women simply need someone to talk to.”
Sophia laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. “I think not, Dr. Christopher. It is often very difficult to find someone who will listen, especially when one’s woes seem so mundane.”
The doctor smiled again, his face beaming with a glow that lit up his exquisite eyes, which she suddenly decided were a pale Egyptian blue, then wondered what it would be like to see those eyes the first thing in the morning. The smoldering heat within sparked and flared, threatening to consume her on the spot.
Sophia licked her lips and swallowed.
Helena shifted on her feet.
“Oh my,” Sophia exhaled with mortification. “We’re really here for my daughter. It’s her first Season.”
“My congratulations, Miss Phillips.”
Helena batted her lashes shyly in response.
“And I must congratulate the young men who will have a chance to dance with so magnificent a young woman.”
Helena colored demurely.
Charlotte approached the trio with a slight huff and puff. “My dear,” she said to Sophia, “I have not forgotten my duty.” She wrapped Helena’s arm around hers. “I have some very nice gentlemen to introduce you to.” She nodded politely to the doctor. “If you will please excuse us, Dr. Christopher.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Sophia caught the doctor’s eye and offered a smile infused with subtle promise. He smiled back graciously. As Charlotte whisked her and Helena deeper into the fray, Sophia cast a last glance at Dr. Christopher, once again feeling a touch of envy as the exquisitely beautiful Lady Foxley-Graham—her dress the very same color blue as his mesmerizing eyes—approached him accompanied by the brown-haired object of Helena’s desires.
* * * * *
“That woman!” Lavinia huffed.
Nicholas chuckled.
Lavinia sneered at her lover. “Don’t laugh. One really has to know her if one is to survive in London Society. Charlotte knows absolutely everybody—”
“Including, it seems now, even me.”
Lavinia ignored his sarcasm. “But she’s so overbearing! I think she plays the distracted, fashionable old lady a bit too much, really.”
Nicholas sipped at his champagne as his gaze wandered to Charlotte and her companions. “Who’s she with now?”
His voice held far too much interest and Lavinia saw immediately why. With her striking copper-colored curls framing her angelic face, a perfect figure swathed tightly in pale-purple silk, draped tulle accentuating her hips, and richly decorated silver brocade underskirts distracting attention from her décolletage, Helena Phillips was possibly the most eye-catching debutante at the Wrexham ball. Nicholas gawked at the beguiling girl with a faraway expression, one Lavinia rarely saw but immediately understood. He was head-over-heels smitten. More than that, he was fantasizing an erotic scenario at that very moment, as evidenced by the slight bulge in his trousers.
Upon looking back at the Phillipses and Charlotte, Lavinia was surprised to see Dr. Julius Christopher with them, being very charming—as he always was—to the ladies in question. Despite his status as a baronet and having a clientele among the families in the big houses, grand social occasions were not his usual milieu.
“Vinny,” came Nicholas’ entreaty to break her thoughts. “Who’s the girl in lavender?” Mere interest had turned into earnestness.
“Ah, there’s a scandal there.” Lavinia sipped her champagne. “That’s Sophia Phillips and her daughter. Mrs. Phillips was formerly Lady Sophia Harwell—well, I suppose she could still use her title if she wanted—until she went and fell in love with an American. Some sort of industrialist. Builds machines and such. She was more than three months gone when they ran away together.”
“Outrageous!” Nicholas hissed sardonically.
“Yes, dear, you may well mock, but that puts the daughter Helena far out of your league. In order to redeem her twig on the family tree, she must marry a man high in the ranks of society.” Lavinia brought her glass to her lips. “Someone like your brother.”
That got a rise out of him. “My brother wouldn’t know what to do with her.”
“He knows how to fuck a woman, Nicky darling. And he only needs to do it until he’s made an heir.”
“Funny how he hasn’t figured that out yet.”
“Well, dear, Jack being ch
ildless and dissipated puts you in direct line to be Earl of St. Albans, and,” Lavinia gave him a sidelong glance, “available to the likes of Helena Phillips.”
“I left that life behind, Vinny.”
Lavinia was afraid of that answer. Perhaps Nicholas wasn’t as interested in the lovely Helena as she had guessed. Or he might need some prodding. “Then you will have to admire from afar.”
Nicholas harrumphed just as Charlotte dragged the girl away into the crowd to find a dance partner.
That left Julius standing alone, although his attractive, composed elegance would draw a curious female fairly quickly. “To take your mind off her, I’ll introduce you to a very dear friend of mine.” Lavinia took his arm and walked to where Helena had stood mere seconds before.
As Lavinia had expected, Julius beamed at her warmly, lifting one eyebrow provocatively.
“Lady Foxley-Graham,” he said, bending over her outstretched hand. “How absolutely wonderful to see you.”
“Julius.” She indicated her companion. “May I introduce a longtime friend, Dr. Nicholas Ramsay. Nicky, Dr. Julius Christopher.”
The men shook hands and mumbled pleasantries.
“And what sort of doctor are you, Ramsay?”
“I haven’t settled on a specialty, sir.”
“Nicky’s only just returned from having been abroad for several years.” Lavinia cast a proud glance at her protégé. “He’s been learning about medical practices in the Near East.”
“Well, I initially read medicine at Cambridge, sir,” Nicholas added, “and I was in Edinburgh for some additional studies this past winter.”
“Rather cold that time of year, isn’t it?” Julius shuddered. “And with whom did you study?”
“Dr. Henry MacFarland.”
“Marvelous! I know Hank from years back. He suggested I go into family practice. I’ve been doing that for over twenty years.”
“Well then, I suppose you must enjoy it, sir.”
“It has its benefits, yes.”
ThePleasureDevice Page 3