She turned to find Philip Sheridan Perry at her side. He wobbled on his feet, for clearly, he’d indulged in too much wine. When he steered Louisa onto the dance floor, he held her too close.
“Don’t grope me,” she said, pushing his hand away from her spine. She’d had some experience dealing with drunken swains in New York and Newport, who thought they could be free and easy with young girls from new-money families.
Mr. Perry grew apologetic. It was a wonder that he could keep time with the music as he rambled and rounded a corner by the gallery railing. “Forgive me for being so bold, but I suspect Lord Granborough has married you for your money,” he slurred. “It was in all the papers, evenTown Talk.I bet you two have one of ‘those kinds’ of marriages.”
Louisa’s heart began to thump. She was alarmed, and it had nothing to do with Mr. Perry’s wandering hands. “What kind of marriage?” she asked, confused.
Her drunken partner glanced at His Lordship and Madame, who’d formed a cozy pair as they waltzed. “You know,” the man nudged, “an understanding kind.”
Philip Sheridan Perry hinted at something the worldlier women of society called ‘an open marriage’.
“You’re mistaken,” said Louisa. This could not be real. It couldn’t be true.
“Then I’m sorry.” Mr. Perry led her from the dance floor to the railing where she might catch her breath.
Her corset felt impossibly tight, and the long rope of pearls she wore threatened to strangle her. She propped her back against a gilt wood pilaster, sucking in air.
“Would you like a drink, my lady?” he asked. “It will calm your nerves.”
Last night, Madame de Roubernon had pretended to befriend Louisa. She’d told her that wine wouldn’t help, but a warm bath would ready her for His Lordship’s advances. The gall of that woman! Would Madame slip away for a soak before Lord Granborough retired this evening?
Louisa was furious. A red heat flamed her cheeks, and if she did not act quickly, that fire in her heart would blister over into white-hot humiliation.
Pappa had always encouraged her to dream big, to want something more. She was rich, intelligent, and attractive. She could have anything—everything—yet she’d wasted her chance at happiness by marrying an unfaithful hustler!
Louisa wouldn’t stand for it. She marched over to the piano player and called out over the keyboard, “I’ll tip you a five-spot to hear“The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo”.”
“Yes ma’am!” The man laughed as he transitioned to the song.
She placed her hand upon the piano’s case. If Lord Granborough intended to carry on his affairs in public, disgracing and demeaning his innocent wife, well…Louisa could humiliate him, too.
“The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo”was a jaunty tune about a once-poor Englishman who’d won a fortune at the casino in Monte Carlo. Louisa sang in the most exaggerated accent she could manage, slurring, and drawling, and rolling her ‘r’s. Unconcerned about saving face, Louisa grew more and more ridiculous with every verse.
“As I walk along the Bois Boulogne
With an independent air,
You can hear the girls declare
‘He must be a Millionaire.’
You can hear them sigh and wish to die,
You can see them wink the other eye
At the man who brrrroke the bank at Monte Carrrlllooo!”
She performed a rousing rendition, imitating Lord Granborough’s movements, posture, and manner of speech. It was a popular song, and everybody knew the words. The livelier parties in the assembly room soon joined in, unknowingly poking fun at her husband.
His Lordship slid over to the piano, his blond head practically purple with panic as he asked, “Louisa, dear, what are you doing?”
The passengers continued the song while she turned toward her husband to reply, “Don’t you like it? It’s a song for you, my lord. You’re a rich man now, but instead of breaking the bank, you’ve broken my heart!”
Lord Granborough looked as if she’d slapped him. “Louisa, you are being cruel.”
She clasped her hands behind her back and stared down her nose at him, exactly as he’d done toward her family, friends, and countrymen for the past six months. Was she being cruel? “You started it.”
The song ended and everybody clapped. They gave three cheers for Lady Granborough before breaking into“Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay,”a bawdy music hall tune, without her.
