He went home before midafternoon to accompany his grandparents to Stratton House. The Duke of Wilby had insisted, of course, against the advice of everyone foolish enough to offer it, that he and Her Grace would attend the ball. Everyone’s anxieties had been allayed slightly, however, when the Countess of Stratton sent a letter to say she and her husband would be delighted to receive the duke and duchess during the afternoon of the ball and to assign them a suite of rooms on the same floor as the ballroom, where they might rest whenever they wished during the day and evening and remain to spend the night.
Lucas went with his grandparents and their personal servants and enough baggage for a month’s stay. They were received at Stratton House like visiting royalty. Lucas stood in the hall watching his mother-in-law lead Her Grace slowly upstairs while His Grace followed between Stratton and the countess. Each of them had one of his arms, but he had insisted upon making the ascent upon his own feet.
“Do you think I will be just as stubborn an old man as my grandfather if I should live as long?” Lucas asked young Stephanie, who had remained at his side instead of following the procession.
“Oh, I hope so,” she said, turning her head to smile brightly at him. “I adore your grandpapa. So does Pippa.”
“She takes no nonsense from him,” he said. “And he loves it.”
They both laughed.
Somehow His Grace had enough breath remaining when he reached the first landing to call down the stairs. “Go home to your bride, Luc,” he said. “I do not need either a jailer or a nursemaid. This is a big day for her. Make a fuss of her. Tell her how lovely she looks. Take her flowers. Roses. At least two dozen. Red. How many more stairs?” That last question was directed to the Strattons.
“I have been given my orders,” Lucas said, setting a hand on Stephanie’s shoulder and kissing her cheek. “We will see you later.”
“You will not recognize me,” she said. “I have the mostgorgeousgown.”
“But the golden coronet will remain?” he asked, glancing at her hair. “You will be gorgeous from head to foot, then, and Iwillrecognize you.”
“Flatterer.” She laughed with girlish glee.
He hurried home, though he did stop along the way to purchase a single rose for his wife. He had not seen the gown she would wear tonight, but she had described its colors as a mixture of blues and turquoise and sea green. The rose was white.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A dinner at Stratton House for the members of both families preceded the ball, though the Duke and Duchess of Wilby dined privately in their suite, which His Grace declared to be too spacious and too comfortable to be abandoned just yet. Indeed, he told the dowager countess and his daughter when they called there, he might even forget to go home for a few days after tonight’s ball. The elderly were expected to be forgetful, after all.
It was an informal dinner in the sense that there were no speeches and no toasts.
“We got all that out of the way on your wedding day,” the Earl of Stratton explained to Philippa and Lucas. “Tonight is for relaxation and enjoyment.”
There probably had not been a great deal of relaxation in the household all day, though, Philippa thought. The dining room looked like a work of art, and the food and wine were sumptuous. There would be a lavish supper later for all the ball guests as well as light refreshments throughout the evening. The ballroom, whichshe had always considered a bit dark and gloomy and neglected and a waste of space, now looked breathtaking. She and Lucas had taken a quick look inside upon their arrival earlier. There was greenery everywhere. Who knew that nature was capable of providing so many shades and textures of the same color? There were a few pots of flowers too—all of them white. But predominantly it was a green paradise.
How very clever Gwyneth had been in thinking of a way for her ballroom to be distinguished from all others in London with their profusion of blooms and color. The chandeliers had been cleaned and filled with candles, and the floor had been polished to a high gloss. Velvet upholstered chairs had been arranged about the walls for the convenience of those who wished to sit and watch the dancing rather than participate in it. Two high-backed chairs with arms and footstools had been placed halfway along the wall inside the doors.
“For King Percy and Queen May, no doubt,” Lucas had said for Philippa’s ears only, nodding in their direction.
It was going to be a magical evening, Philippa thought as dinner ended and she turned her thoughts to the ball. Guests would begin to arrive within the hour. She and Lucas would stand in the receiving line with her mother and Devlin and Gwyneth. They would lead off the dancing. But tonight she was not wearing virginal white—how inappropriate it would be anyway. Tonight she was wearing the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. At first glance it was not very different from the fashionable gowns all women wore these days. It was high-waisted with a low neckline and short, puffed sleeves. The skirt fell straight from bosom to hem, in classical Grecian lines. It looked blue or green or turquoise, depending upon the light and the angle from which one looked at it. In reality, however, the lightweight silk and gauze of which it wasmade disguised the fullness of the skirts, which swirled and billowed about her when she moved, revealing too many shades of blending colors to enumerate.
Lucas had stood in the doorway of her dressing room earlier, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He had been looking gorgeous, of course, all in black and white, his hair glowing dark red. “That gown was designed for a woman who might not otherwise be noticed,” he had said. “On you it has failed miserably, Phil. Your own beauty quite overpowers it.”
His eyes had smiled at her when she burst out laughing.
“Do you lie awake at night composing these pretty compliments?” she had asked him.
“Er...doI lie awake at night?” he had asked her. “It seems to me that when Iamawake, I am far too busy exerting myself to be mentally composing any compliments at all.”
Philippa had been very glad she had already dismissed her maid.
She rose now from the dining table when Gwyneth did. The ladies would withdraw to make any minor repairs to their appearance that were necessary. The men would not linger at the table, Devlin promised.
But the ladies were fated not to leave the room so quickly after all. For someone else entered it unannounced. He was immaculately clad for the evening even though he had not been invited to either the dinner or the ball.
There was a loud scraping of chairs from those who were not already on their feet.
“George!”the Dowager Countess of Stratton exclaimed. She hurried toward her brother.
“Uncle George,” Philippa murmured as Lucas’s hand enclosed hers and squeezed tightly.
