“Olympia, Dowager Marchioness of Rowley, Lady Sirena Abbott,” the majordomo boomed, and then as Sirena and her mother entered the ballroom he announced, “Lord Septimius Morgan, Miss Allegra Morgan, Mr. Charles Trent.”
Zounds! Allegra thought to herself as her father escorted her to the reception line to greet her hosts, I have actually arrived. She was suddenly very aware of the many eyes upon her, then she caught herself, and curtsying said, “Good evening, Lady Bellingham.”
“Good evening, m’dear,” her hostess replied, and then introduced her spouse, who smiled at Allegra.
“Pandora’s gel, eh? But more your gel, I’m thinking, Septimius,” Lord Bellingham said frankly.
“Indeed she is,” Lord Morgan replied proudly, and then with a bow moved on with his daughter to join Lady Abbott and Sirena.
Allegra didn’t know where to look next. The ballroom was utterly magnificent. It seemed hardly possible that a house of this size could contain such a large chamber. The woodwork was all gold and white rococo. The chandeliers were sparkling crystal with gold fittings. The beeswax tapers burning in them were scented with honeysuckle. At one end of the room was an ornate gold baroque balcony thrusting out from the wall. Musicians, garbed in dark blue velvet knee breeches and matching coats, were seated on the balcony playing. The walls were covered in pale blue silk brocade and paneled with mirrors. Before each mirror was a gilded pedestal upon which rested a large blue Wedgwood urn filled with multicolored flowers. The floors were of polished wood. About the room were rose velvet settees and small gold chairs with sky blue velvet seats. Looking up, Allegra saw the ceiling of the ballroom was filled with gamboling cherubs.
Lady Abbott led her daughter and her niece to a settee, and sat down. “Now,” she said softly, “we await the bees to come to the flowers displayed so prettily before them.”
“Where did Papa and Charles go?” Allegra asked.
“To drink or play at cards with other like-minded gentlemen,” Lady Abbott replied. “Balls are for you young people.” She smiled.
About them the other mothers and guardians viewedwith discreet side glances the two young women who were said to be the season’s greatest beauties, even though neither had been seen until tonight.
“Well, what do you think?” Viscount Pickford asked the Duke of Sedgwick.
“Which one is she? I was not looking when they were announced,” the duke replied. “The fragile little blonde?”
“No, the brunette with the pale skin, and the arrogant tilt to her head. God, she really is a great beauty, Quint! She’ll wear the family jewels with elegance,” the viscount finished.
Quinton Hunter laughed. “We have not yet met. I may need a rich wife, Ocky, but we must suit.”
“Come on!” the viscount said enthusiastically. “The dowager and my mother were friends in their youth. I can use that as an entrée. You get the heiress, but I want to be introduced to that delicious thing who is the dowager’s youngest daughter.”
“You haven’t stopped gathering gossip since we got to London,” the duke teased his friend as they walked around the crowded ballroom.
“Good evening, Lady Abbott,” Octavian Baird said. “I am Viscount Pickford. I believe you knew my mother, Laura Beauley, when you were girls together in Hereford.” He bowed politely.
“Of course,” Lady Abbott gushed. “May I introduce my niece, Miss Allegra Morgan. Allegra, this is Viscount Pickford. And of course, my daughter, Lady Sirena.”
“And may I introduce my friend, Quinton Hunter, the Duke of Sedgwick,” the viscount continued. Then he turned to Sirena. “Have you room on your dance card for me, Lady Sirena?”
Sirena blushed, and perused her card, which untilnow was empty. “I believe I have the third dance open, sir,” she said, quickly writing his name down. Thank you for asking.”
“No,” he quickly responded, “Thank you.”
“Sedgwick,”Lady Abbott said thoughtfully. “Your father was Charles Hunter, wasn’t he? And your mother Vanessa Tarleton?”
“Yes, Lady Abbott,” the duke answered.
“Your mother and I were distant cousins. We shared a great-grandparent, although I don’t know which one,” she told him.
“Indeed, madame,” he replied. Then he turned to Allegra. “Would you have a dance available for me, Miss Morgan?”
“Alas, Your Grace,” she quickly replied, “but my card is full tonight. If we meet again during the season, I shall promise you the last dance on my card.” She gave him a faint smile.
He bowed, and without another word walked away with Viscount Pickford.
“Are you mad?” her aunt demanded. “No one at all has asked you to dance yet.He is a duke!At least Sirena pretended that while she was engaged, she could still fit Viscount Pickford onto her card.”
“I did not like the way he looked at me, Aunt. As if I were a horse and he were judging my points,” Allegra said.
“Perhaps he is shortsighted,” her aunt replied. “I can only hope you haven’t insulted him so badly that he will not dance with you next time. You are just suffering from nerves, m’dear.”
