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“A private dining room has been set,” the second guard said, and indicated with his chin the direction they were to walk.
As they made their way toward the door of the ballroom, Sebastian looked around again for Matous but did not see him. The Englishman he’d seen talking to his secretary was now in the company of other Englishmen, all of them laughing together at something.
He did not see Matous again until much later, after he’d been served in a dining room and had drunk more of the delicious rum punch. He was in better spirits, looking forward to his clandestine meeting with Mrs. Forsythe. He’d even danced again, this time in complete anonymity with a young woman who focused on her feet. And when the Alucian dances were played, he joined the line with Lady Sarafina Anastasan, his foreign minister’s comely wife.
At half past midnight, Matous appeared at his side. He looked harried, a bit disheveled, and his hair was mussed. All quite unlike Matous. He said low, “All is at the ready, sir.”
Sebastian nodded. As they made their way from the ballroom, Matous said, “If I may, sir, is there some place we might have a word?”
But Sebastian had availed himself of punch and was feeling randy and desperate to be out of the mask. Visions of Mrs. Forsythe’s fair green eyes and unbound auburn hair had begun to play in his head in anticipation of what was to come. “Will it not wait?”
Matous hesitated. He glanced at the guard and pressed his lips together. “As you wish, sir.”
Sebastian took pity on his secretary and said in Alucian, “Come to my suite in two hours. We can speak freely there.”
Again, Matous hesitated. It was not like him at all—he was generally eager to please. Sebastian studied his face a moment. “Will that suit?”
“Je,” Matous said in Alucian. Yes. He bowed his head.
Sebastian carried on, his thoughts already on his tryst.
Mrs. Forsythe was waiting just inside the vestibule of the entrance marked by a clock. She smiled when Sebastian jogged up the steps.
“You must be freezing,” he said.
“I will be warm soon enough. Come.” She boldly reached for his hand. “I’ve the perfect room.”
Oh, he was certain she had the perfect room, probably procured for her by spies in the English government or perhaps even by rebels. He was well versed in all the ways someone might try and catch him in a compromising situation because he’d spent his life learning to subvert such ploys. He pulled her into him, caught her chin with his hand and touched his lips to hers. She sighed longingly.
“I’ve a different room, madam. Would you care to see it?” He wrapped his arm around her waist to escort her down the steps.
She resisted. “But I had the servant light a fire.”
“There will be fire in this room, too,” he assured her.
She gave a quick, furtive look behind her.
“Are you expecting someone other than me, Mrs. Forsythe?”
“Pardon?” She blanched. “No, Your Highness, of course not.”
She lied. But Sebastian smiled. He was well guarded and didn’t care what little scheme she’d cooked up. “Shall we?”
Whatever agreement she’d made, whatever bargain she’d struck, she surrendered it—she preferred pleasure to subterfuge. How fortuitous for him.
He put his arm around her waist and led her down the steps to the drive. They walked briskly behind an Alucian guard who led them around the corner and into a private garden, through a side door, and up the stairs to where the Alucian servants and guards had been quartered. Another guard was waiting at the entrance to one of the rooms. He opened the door for them, then quickly and quietly closed it behind them.
The room was small, but the hearth was lit, and the linens looked freshly washed. Sebastian did not hesitate to remove Mrs. Forsythe’s mask. She was as pleasing to look at as he recalled from the state dinner at Windsor.
She reached up and removed his mask, too, and smiled prettily. “What a handsome man you are, sir. Quite pleasing.”
Sebastian kissed her. She kissed him back. And before he knew it, he had her against the wall, moving with abandon, and she was crying out in pleasure like a hyena.
He never did make it back to his suite of rooms that night.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u88a6cd9c-f8cc-5d71-93e3-8de0058f6a94)
The Royal Masquerade Ball at Kensington Palace included banqueting in a room that boasted wall coverings in rich red and gold, contrasted by tables set in snowy white linens and silver. Guests availed themselves of the twenty-foot buffet serving meats, cheeses, sandwiches, biscuits, sweet meats, towering cakes in delightful shapes, and the evening’s most favored delectable, the royal tipsy cake, served on plates of fine bone Limoges china, and finished in 22 carat gold, produced in France for Her Majesty the Queen.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
THE DISCOVERY OF food was another delight for Eliza. In addition to being a wee bit in her cups, she was famished. With the excitement of the day on her mind and an extraordinary amount of time required to prepare, she’d not eaten a thing since morning. She wandered up and down the tables laden with food prepared by the palace kitchens, filling a plate well past the amount of food that was considered polite for a delicate woman to take. Well, she was not a delicate woman and she was hungry and she was terribly blasé about her personal circumstances. It wasn’t as if she was hoping a gentleman might notice her and consider her a worthy prospect for marriage—Eliza knew better than that. She was eight-and-twenty, on the shelf, unremarkable, plainly dressed, and undesirable to anyone in this crowd. She appealed mostly to the Mr. Norrises of the world, who assumed, given their widowed status and her spinster status, that she would be delighted to clean their chamber pots and darn their socks. No, thank you. Her life suited her well enough and allowed her to eat at royal balls without qualm.
She had settled with her plate of food near the door, at a table that had been set a little away from the others to clear space for those wishing to exit the room. It was there, behind her sandwich, that she noticed once again the enthusiastic, slender Alucian gentleman who had been the one to make introductions to the prince. He seemed far less enthusiastic now. He was standing in the hall, and she wondered what he was doing, when suddenly a veritable armada of Alucian gentlemen came striding down the hall, the prince at the center. The slender Alucian quickly stepped into their path, and Eliza realized he’d been standing there so that he could intercept the prince.
Once again, the prince seemed impatient with the slender man, and very subtly tried to move around him. But the slender man was determined to have his say. Eliza took a rather large bite of her sandwich, chewing enthusiastically, and watched as the man spoke and the prince responded, and then stepped around him. Nevertheless, the prince hesitated before he moved along, but move along he did, and the slender man appeared a bit dejected, judging by the way his shoulders sagged, and he stared down at the floor as guests streamed around him.
Eliza didn’t think she cared much for the haughty prince, in spite of his fine green eyes. She wondered where he was off to at such a clip.
The slim man suddenly looked up and through the banquet hall door. His gaze seemed to land directly on Eliza. She froze, a chipmunk with her cheeks full of sandwich. Was he looking at her? It was difficult to tell with the mask. Surely not.
Well, if he was, he was frightened off, because he suddenly turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction. He walked up to a round Englishman and whisked him off to the side of the hall for animated discussion.
That porcine Englishman seemed terribly familiar to Eliza. She called up many faces in her head as she tried to sort it out.
“There you are!”
The shout startled Eliza so badly she fumbled her sandwich.
“Dear Lord, what are you doing, Eliza?” Caroline exclaimed in horror. “You’re eating as if you’ve not dined in weeks.”
“I’m hungry,” Eliza informed Caroline. “The food is delicious. I want to try everything.”
“Well, it looks like you have everything on your plate.” Caroline sat heavily beside Eliza with a sigh. “I’ve danced to the point I don’t think I can take another step.” Even though her mask was slightly askew, Eliza thought Caroline was particularly lovely tonight. But that was Caroline for you—always impeccably dressed. She had the good fortune of fine looks and a fine figure. Even in her bedclothes and her hair tangled around her, she was quite lovely. She was tall and lithe, and her pale blond hair was put in loops above her ears, anchored there by the velvet ties of her gold mask. Her gown was made of gold and white muslin, and gold velvet ribbons wrapped around her sleeves. She wore a single strand of pearls around her neck.
But it was her mask that stood out above all else. It was a work of art. It was shaped like the oversized eyes of a cat and was covered in the same material as her gown. Cascades of beads hung from the corners and bordered the full mask.
When they’d dressed for the ball, Caroline had taken an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, admiring herself from all angles, making slight adjustments to her gown and mask, depending on her perspective. “Madam Rosenstern made the gown especially for me, especially for tonight,” she’d informed Eliza and Hollis.
Caroline suddenly reached for Eliza’s dance card dangling from her wrist. “Eliza! You’ve only three of them filled!”
“I was forced to dance a polka,” Eliza said, and took another bite of sandwich. “Have you any idea how dreadfully I dance a polka?”
“I know how dreadfully you dance, darling, but I rather thought you’d do well enough with a quadrille, and yet, you haven’t a partner for that dance. We must find a hostess—”
“No!”
“And will you put down the sandwich? A gentleman will not be inclined to consider a lady for a dance partner, much less a potential wife, if he fears he must feed her as much as his livestock.”
Eliza put down her sandwich. “If a gentleman considers me for a potential wife, he must also consider that I eat. This may come as quite a shock to you, Caro, but I did not come to this ball in search of a husband. I came to meet a prince, and that, I have done. Twice over,” she added pertly.
Caroline gasped. “You have? When?”
“When I was avoiding the ballroom hostess. Look there, do you see that thin Alucian gentleman speaking to the fat Englishman?”
Caroline looked around. “Which one?”
“One of his hands is in a black glove and he holds it at his side.”
“What of him?”
“He was the one making introductions to the prince. Who, by the bye, has shaved the beard you swooned about.”
“Ah. To add to his disguise, I suspect.”
“Who is the gentleman speaking to?”
Caroline sat up a little straighter to see. “If I am not mistaken, that is Mr. John Heath, the banker. You’ve met his daughter, Lucille, haven’t you?”
Eliza shook her head.
“No?” Caroline leaned forward and whispered, “The poor dear has been out two seasons without a single offer. I have heard it said that her modest dowry is not enough to make up for her plain looks. She is not considered a catch.”
“She and I could be fast friends, then, couldn’t we?”
Caroline gave her a little glare. Both women turned their attention to the two men and their discussion across the way. A second Englishman had joined them.
“How on earth did you gain an introduction to the prince?” Caroline demanded. “One must be invited to be introduced.”
“So I was instructed.” Eliza forked a healthy bite of the tipsy cake. “I encountered him in a passageway between a study of some sort and the ballroom.”
“A what?”
“A passageway.”
“What were you doing in a passageway?”
“Hiding,” Eliza admitted. “He sampled my punch. Said it was very good. And then he tried to seduce me.”
Caroline’s eyes rounded. And then she burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious!” she cried gleefully.
“I am quite serious. He tried to seduce me, plain as day. I didn’t know he was the prince then, obviously, or I might have allowed it, but moments later I found myself in a line to meet him, and Caro, I perjured myself.” She laughed. “I claimed to have an invitation, and would you believe that not one person challenged me? Well, that’s not entirely true. There was a woman dressed as a peacock who challenged me, but she didn’t call the authorities.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Eliza Tricklebank! You were in the group of debutantes invited to make his acquaintance?”
“Did you see them?”
“I heard of them in the retiring room. Everyone did. Sarah Montrose was bragging and Emily Peters was crushed that she was not invited to join. Apparently, she’s been struck off the list.”
Eliza had another bite of cake. “I wanted to meet a prince and I saw no other way to do it. His eyes are an amazing shade of green, Caro. I’ve never seen such a color. Oh, and he stepped on my foot.”
“What?”
“Right across the top of it, with all his weight. It’s a wonder he didn’t break it—he’s quite a large man up close.”
Caroline gaped at her.
“But I didn’t mind,” Eliza insisted through another bite of cake. “It was an accident, and I own some of the fault, because I leapt in front of him before he got away. I will never have another opportunity to meet a royal prince and I wasn’t going to let it pass because of some unwritten rule that one must be invited.”
Caroline’s mouth dropped more. “What has happened to you?”
Eliza laughed. “Where is the harm? If he’d been swept off his feet by the sight of me and had sent all the other unmarried ladies home, I would apologize profusely for my behavior. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t, and therefore there is no harm. This isn’t Cinderella after all.”
“Well, this is certainly not Cinderella. At least she danced,” Caroline said, and helped herself to a piece of cheese from Eliza’s plate. “You are not the only one to have encountered a prince tonight, you know. I was meant to dance with Prince Leopold, whose name is very clearly written on my dance card, do you see?” she asked, shaking her dance card at Eliza.
Eliza peered at it. She saw the name clearly written.
“We are acquainted, as you know,” Caroline said.
Eliza resisted a roll of her eyes. She loved Caroline, but Caroline adored every opportunity to mention any of her many important friends. She had told Eliza and Hollis the story of meeting Prince Leopold of Alucia at a country house last summer. She had told them more than once—several times over, if one was counting. The meeting had been very brief, but according to Caroline, hugely memorable to her and the prince both.
“We are more than acquainted, really, given our conversation in Chichester. Well, you’ll not believe it—he pretended not to know me at all.”
“Pardon?”
“As if we’d never met!” She reached for another piece of cheese. “I was given the cut direct, Eliza, and for no reason whatsoever.”
“But...did he not write his name on your card?”
“Oh, that,” Caroline said, and had a third piece of cheese. “Miss Williams wrote his name there because I had said, with certainty I believe I am due, that once I greeted him, he would naturally extend the invitation. Any gentleman would have done so. But he has cut me to the bone.”
“The bastard,” Eliza said in full solidarity with her friend.
“He will regret it, you may trust me,” Caroline said confidently. “All right then, come along, and stop eating! Let’s go and fill the rest of your dance card. There are only three sets left, and one of them is an Alucian dance.”
“But I want the tipsy cake!” Eliza complained. “I don’t want to dance the Alucian set. I’ll make a fool of myself.”
“Come,” Caroline commanded.
Eliza stifled a belch and allowed Caroline to remove the tipsy cake from her reach.
They walked arm in arm to the ballroom, but the hall was very crowded and their progress slow. As they made their way, the peacock, all smiles now, passed on the arm of an Alucian gentleman. “That’s her,” Eliza said, indicating the woman with a tip of her chin. “She’s the one who informed me I had to be invited to meet the prince.”
Caroline blinked. “Do you know her?”
“No. Should I?”
Caroline squeezed Eliza’s arm. “That is Katherine Maugham.”
