“Oh, most assuredly,” Andrew agreed, “so she can teach Philip how to dance.”
A confused frown puckered Catherine’s brow. “As I recall, Philip is a passable dancer.”
“Such effusive praise will surely swell my head,” Philip murmured.
Andrew laughed. “My dear Lady Bickley, the last time I saw him engaging in a dance, the din he raised sounded like a stomping herd of elephants.”
“Camels,” said Philip. “It was camels, not elephants. Several camels broke free of their tethers during a soiree in Alexandria and caused quite a commotion.” He glared at Andrew. “So all that stomping wasn’t me at all.”
Catherine coughed to cover an obvious laugh. “My relief knows no bounds. To continue, your future wife should possess at least a passing knowledge of French. And don’t you think she should know how to embroider, Philip? Even as a child you liked having your initials decorate your handkerchiefs.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Philip said. “Please be certain to add that to your list, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. ‘Must know how to embroider.’ I couldn’t possibly consider marrying a woman who was not handy with a needle and thread.”
Clearly his dry tone was not lost upon Miss Chilton-Grizedale. She looked up and their eyes met. One corner of her mouth twitched, and clear amusement glittered in her eyes. “I’ve not only added ‘expert embroiderer’ to the list, my lord, but I’ve placed a star next to it as well to denote its category as one of the utmost importance.”
She smiled at him, a simple gesture that sped up his heart to a ridiculous rate. A reluctant answering grin pulled at his lips, evaporating a measure of his irritation. Andrew issued a loud ahem, recalling Philip’s attention, and he realized he’d been grinning at Miss Chilton-Grizedale like an idiotic green schoolboy experiencing his first crush. She blinked twice, as if she, too, had forgotten the presence of others.
“Was there anything else you’d like added to the list, my lord?” she asked. “Perhaps something you find particularly abhorrent?”
“Philip detests liars,” Andrew said. “And didn’t we run into our share of them with those corrupt artifact dealers. Liars and thieves, nearly every one of them. Thankfully Philip possesses an excellent eye for spotting a forgery.”
Philip nodded slowly. “I cannot deny that I hate being lied to.”
Miss Chilton-Grizedale made a notation on the vellum. “So noted,” she said in a voice that sounded somewhat strained, “although I believe it is safe to say that no one enjoys being told falsehoods.” She turned her attention to Catherine. “Since that appears to finish this list, would you like to begin making up the guest list now, Lady Bickley?”
“Of course. That way I can send out the invitations early tomorrow.”
While Catherine and Miss Chilton-Grizedale sat at the desk near the windows, their heads close together as they plotted out the guest list, Philip and Andrew settled themselves on the opposite side of the room, near the marble fireplace, and began a game of chess. As Philip concentrated on resettling his ruffled feathers, they played in silence for some time, before Andrew said, “Edward came to the museum today.”
Guilt pricked Philip, and he raked his hand through his hair. “Damn, I’ve been so preoccupied with my own problems this evening, I completely forgot to ask about Edward. How were his spirits?” He didn’t add that he’d sent around a note to his solicitor late this afternoon instructing him to open an account in Edward’s name.
“Subdued. He’s planning to come again tomorrow.”
“Good. Focusing on something other than Mary will no doubt help him.”
“I agree. Obviously he’s mourning his wife, but it’s difficult to tell exactly what he’s thinking. He’s not an easy man to read.” Feeling the weight of Andrew’s stare, Philip looked up from the chessboard and found his friend’s gaze resting pointedly on him. “Not like some people.”
Philip raised his brows. “Meaning?”
Andrew leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Meaning that you are easier to read than a book, my friend.”
Philip stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t. I mean her.” He jerked his head toward the other side of the room. “That little exchange of words between you was quite telling. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been looking at her as if she’s an oasis and you’re dying of thirst.”
Bloody hell. Had he truly been that obvious? And when the devil had Andrew turned into such an enthusiastic observer of human behavior?
Andrew’s gaze flicked over to the two women in the corner, then he regarded Philip with an inscrutable expression. “Easy to see what the attraction is.”
To his annoyance, everything inside Philip tensed. Forcing a light tone, he said, “She is pretty, yes.”
“Actually, I don’t believe ‘pretty’ describes her at all. She is distinctive. Unusual. Striking. But not pretty.”
“Indeed? I hadn’t particularly noticed.”
“I see. Then I suppose you didn’t notice any of her other attributes, either.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the darker blue ring that surrounds her aqua irises, making her eyes appear like bottomless pools. Or the way her pale skin turns a delicate peach when she’s animated about something, or how incredibly shiny all that dark hair is. How long do you suppose her hair is? I suspect it at least reaches her waist.” He heaved a long sigh. “There’s nothing like a curvaceous woman with long, long hair. But I suppose you didn’t notice the fact that she is quite the curvy piece, either.”
Philip dropped all pretense of studying the chessboard. Unwanted, unwelcome jealousy pumped through him, along with a healthy dose of anger. “We’ve returned to civilization, Andrew. That is hardly a proper way to describe a lady.”
The look Andrew shot him was one of pure innocence. “So there «some decorum buried in there. I meant no disrespect, of course. I was merely obliging your request to list her attributes-ones that I believe any man with eyes would instantly note, by the way. Except you, it seems. Interesting. Especially as you are normally most observant.”
Oh, he’d observed. Observed everything about her, including her striking eyes, her complexion, her lovely hair, and the hints of her feminine form beneath her bronze-hued gown. It just irked that Andrew had also noted them.
“Too bad she isn’t one of those willowy blondes you prefer,” Andrew mused, “Although I imagine it wouldn’t matter. From everything you’ve told me, I gather you’re expected to marry some ‘Lady’ something-or-other as opposed to a regular ‘Miss. ’”
“Yes, that is what is expected,” Philip said. The words felt like desert sand upon his tongue.
“Yet there have been many occasions when I’ve known you to do the exact opposite of what was expected, Philip.”
Philip studied his friend for several seconds before replying. “That was in Egypt. Turkey. Greece. This is England. I returned here to do what is expected of me.”
“To marry someone you barely know. You’re abandoning the life you love abroad, your explorations, giving up your freedom.”
This was a familiar argument between himself and Andrew. “I’m honoring an agreement that granted me my freedom for the past ten years. And between the British Museum and the private museum you and I plan to co-found, I shall have more than enough to keep me busy.”
“I suppose. But you’ve given up a great deal. It certainly seems that you should have the woman you want. I myself would never marry for less than love.”
Philip couldn’t contain his bark of surprised laughter. “I find it difficult to envision you in the role of lovesick suitor, Andrew. I’ve seen you in the company of numerous women over the years, yet none seemed to have captured your heart.”
“Perhaps because my heart was already otherwise engaged.”