Free Ivory and Steel by Janice Bennett Page A

marriage.”
    “Lord Ingram had never met Louisa before last night,” Phyllida reminded the Runner. “He could hardly judge her reactions.”
    “Is that right, m’lord?”
    Ingram’s gaze brushed over Phyllida. “I had met her.”
    She blinked. “You had? Where?”
    “Yes, where?” Mr. Frake pursued in lively interest.
    “In Bath.” Ingram drew his snuff box from his pocket and weighed it in one hand. “My mother stayed there one winter and I visited her while I was home on leave.”
    “While Lady Allbury was in the seminary?” Mr. Frake drew out his Occurrence Book and jotted down a quick note.
    “Yes, though it was some weeks before I discovered she was still in the schoolroom.” Ingram’s lips tightened as if in remembered annoyance.
    Cold enveloped Phyllida. He had known Louisa, probably been bewitched by her as all men tended to be. No wonder he had stared so at her in the opera box. And no wonder when he looked at Phyllida he found her lacking.
    “Was there an attachment between you?” Mr. Frake asked.
    Ingram’s brows rose a fraction. “She was in the schoolroom.”
    “But you didn’t know that at first.”
    He inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “A man may indulge in a mild flirtation with a lively young miss without serious intent upon either side.”
    “And you are quite sure there wasn’t, m’lord?” Mr. Frake pursued. “Not on your part, nor perhaps on that of her late ladyship?”
    Ingram regarded him through cold eyes. “There was not. I might have been an officer but I had not then any expectations of inheriting my brother’s title and estates.”
    “Meaning as that’s what the young lady was after?” Mr. Frake jotted down another note. “And you, m’lord? What was it you was after?”
    “Nothing, although you appear to find it impossible to believe. Louisa wished to learn the art of flirtation. I was one of many upon whom she practiced.”
    The Runner glanced at Phyllida. “Does that sound like your sister, miss?”
    “Yes.” The word came out dully. “Everyone admired her so, it made her somewhat…precocious. I doubt her intentions were serious.” Only the slightest emphasis sounded on the pronoun. What, in truth, had been Ingram’s?
    A surge of understanding rushed through her, startling in its intensity. Whatever lay in the past between Louisa and Ingram, it explained his otherwise inexplicable dislike for her. Had Louisa hurt him? Had he loved the girl—then come to hate her? And did he expect Phyllida to behave in the same deceitful manner as the sister she resembled so closely? It would explain the antagonism.
    He would learn better, she vowed.
    “Were you also acquainted with Miss Yarborough and Mrs. Enderby, m’lord?” the Runner pursued, cutting across Phyllida’s racing thoughts.
    “I did not have that honor. Had I been, I might have realized Louisa’s true age sooner.”
    Mr. Frake closed his book. “Thank you, m’lord. That will be all for now.” He fixed his bland smile on Ingram and gave him a dismissive nod.
    Ingram’s gaze rested on Phyllida and the lines deepened around his eyes—but not into a frown. “Miss Dearne? Do you require an escort?”
    “No, I do not.” Regret filled her and only with difficulty did she keep it from her voice. At last he made a civil overture toward her and she couldn’t accept. “I only awaited Miss Yarborough. And now I see she awaits me by the landau.”
    “Then I will bid you good afternoon.” With a bow to Phyllida, he strode across the street and entered the portals of a haberdashery.
    Mr. Frake started toward the carriage where Constance Yarborough and the stern-featured dresser stood. Phyllida followed, wondering what had gone through Lord Ingram’s mind when he had seen Louisa last night, after three long years. Had it been longing—or hatred?
    The Runner came to a halt and fixed Constance with his penetrating eye. “Did you know Lord Ingram knew the late marchioness while you was