Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton

Author:Chalon Linton [Linton, Chalon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2021-02-07T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Franklin could see the challenge in Mason’s eye before he’d ever spoken a word. He meant to spar for Miss Jamison’s notice. When Chipper had pulled ahead, ensuring Franklin won the race and, therefore, the bet, Mason had seemed to not care. But something had changed since that moment. Perhaps the man felt the need to defend his pride. Perhaps he wanted to remind Franklin of his long-standing relationship with the Jamison family. Or perhaps he finally recognized the treasure standing before him, dressed as a radiant blue sky with a halo of fiery sun.

Miss Jamison accepted Mason’s request to dance the waltz, and Franklin could not decipher whether the rosiness in her cheeks was remnant from his own compliment or Mason’s inquiry. Franklin’s supper dance would occur before the waltz, and he wondered if claiming her hand before Mason was a boon. Or perhaps dancing the waltz near the end of the ball would leave a more memorable impression. Then Franklin was reminded that none of it really mattered because he and Mason were not the only two vying for Miss Jamison’s attention. While he stood contemplating how best to leave a measurable impression, another man, Mr. Abbott, had come and claimed Miss Jamison’s hand for the first set.

Franklin knew mingling in Society had never been his forte. However, if he sought to win Miss Jamison’s notice, he needed to employ the one strength his mother oft boasted of—his sincerity. Franklin need not decipher Mason’s feelings, nor did he need to try to be something he was not. He only needed to be himself and to aptly present his intentions when given the opportunity.

Franklin danced only two sets prior to his commitment with Miss Jamison, retreating to the card room until the supper dance was called. Miss Young and Miss Tartell were kind and handsome and all things Society wished them to be. Yet . . . they did not boast red hair or a fiery wit, and Franklin did not have an opportunity to hear them laugh, truly laugh, as though they could not contain the emotion any longer. When Miss Jamison’s riding habit had lain scorched upon his kitchen hearth and she’d laughed unashamed, Franklin knew Miss Phoebe Jamison had captured his heart.

The supper dance was announced, and Franklin stood upon his tiptoes and searched for his partner. He found Miss Jamison, head bent close to Miss Vane, her gloved fingers resting upon Miss Vane’s arm while she whispered something into her friend’s ear.

Franklin approached and let his arms hang at his side while he bowed. “Ladies.”

“Oh.” Miss Vane covered her mouth and stood at her full height. “Is the supper dance called?”

Miss Jamison looked away from Miss Vane and acknowledged Franklin with a small curtsy.

“May I?” Franklin asked.

Miss Jamison’s lips pushed together, and she looked back at Miss Vane. “Hannah,” she began, “please consider—”

“Yes, yes.” Miss Vane waved Miss Jamison’s words away and looked over her head. “Go!” Miss Vane flipped her fingers toward the dance floor.

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