At least, this was how it had always been, until that particular evening.
There had never been a gloomiersupper.
His Lordship, the Marquess of Atherton, had done something shockingly out of the ordinary. Instead of escorting the highest-ranking lady present to the dining room, he'd offered his arm to an unassuming girl with neither name nor breeding.
The silence in the room as he stood with his arm outstretched had been awkward and tense.
For a moment it had seemed that she was about to stick her nose up in the air, refuse his arm and storm off. But then she'd placed her fingertips on his sleeve, as if afraid she'd burn herself, and he'd led her into the dining room to her seat to his right.
It was the seat of honour.
Who was she again, this Miss Taylor? Where had she sprung from so suddenly?
And why was she sitting between the host and the Duke of Aldingbourne as if she were a person of importance?
She was a pretty girl, all right, in a simple evening gown. Some would even call her beautiful; small and fragile as she was, with dark ringlets falling around a perfect oval face and a pale pink petal mouth. She seemed unusually pale, however, with dark shadows under her eyes that made them appear even bigger.
Atherton had made no attempt to break the awkward atmosphere. He sat at the head of the table, stone-faced and silent, and ate his meal rapidly. But one was used to that, for it was well known that the marquess was aloof and unapproachable, and altogether a difficult person to converse with.
It was the ladies who saved the supper from total failure, especially Princess Florentina, who valiantly maintained a conversation, and Lady Evangeline, whose meaningless chatter was not only welcome but a relief.
Supper was a nightmare.
Mira had never intended to attend in the first place. She'd been throwing her clothes into her trunk when Princess Florentina had appeared in her room.
"Don't be foolish, child," she'd said when she'd seen the open trunk. "Not only is there no coach tonight, but travelling now in the deep snow is an impossibility. You will never make it to Cornwall."
"It is also an impossibility for me to stay here," Mira had informed her. "My presence here was a mistake to begin with. I apologise for being so unduly rude, Princess. But I must leave."
Princess Florentina walked to the window, drew back a curtain and pensively watched the snowflakes glide to the ground. "It was my idea, naturally, to invite you here." She turned to face Mira. "Atherton was almost out of his mind that night at the opera. Aldingbourne could barely contain him, and they almost came to blows. He would have burst into your opera box and caused a public scene there and then. I would not, could not, allow that. I had to find an alternative solution. So, I invited you, or rather Miss Cullpepper, knowing that she would take you along as her companion. After all, one could hardly invite a mere servant to a country house party."
Mira lifted her chin. "I have figured out that much, Princess."
"Yes, you are a clever one. I felt I knew you quite well long before I ever met you. Atherton has told me much about you over the years."
He had?
"You have no idea how many headaches you have caused us, my girl. No idea at all. Not to mention organising this event at the last minute. The duke, his sister, the count, we have all made considerable sacrifices and worked very hard to make this happen. Do not let us down now."
They had?
"But why?"
She waved the question away. "I really must insist you come at least to supper. It is imperative. If you cannot bring yourself to do it for Atherton's sake, then at least do it for the sake of this old lady here," she stomped her cane twice on the floor, "who has gone to great lengths to accommodate you and who would be delighted to have your company tonight."
Mira was silent. The "old lady" who stood ramrod straight in front of her, with sharp, steel-grey eyes and hair whiter than snow, was indeed her hostess, and Mira had been unforgivably rude to her. Not only had she caused a scene this afternoon that must have embarrassed everyone within earshot, which was probably the entire house and all the servants in it, but she had been unaccommodating on the other days as well, looking for any excuse to avoid their company. The princess had been nothing but polite and kind to her, a mere maid, and she'd never let on in any way that she was aware of their social differences. She would suffer through the infernal dinner just for Princess Florentina. She owed her that much.
So Mira had changed into a simple white dress with a blue sash. She didn't know that she looked vulnerable and beautiful and lost and that all the gentlemen would have fallen at her feet if she had asked them to.
She had not expected him to come bearing down on her as soon as she'd entered the room, to bow curtly and to offer his arm in icy silence. She'd been aware of every pair of eyes upon her, and an awkward silence had filled the room. For a second she had considered picking up her skirts and running. Instead, she'd put her hand on his arm, and he'd led her to the table.
Miss Pearson,bless her soul, had done her best to teach her how to behave as a lady, so she was quite confident that she could comport herself properly in this elevated society. But Miss Pearson had never taught her how to eat at a fully set aristocratic banquet.
It was overwhelming, to say the least.
The entire room glittered with crystal and gold. All the guests glittered too, all dressed in their finery with jewels and tiaras. Even the footmen glistened in their wigs and livery.
Between massive golden chandeliers, the table was decorated with greenery, etageres overflowing with fruit and fondant.
