Chapter 1
1812
London
She was going to be late.
It was her own fault, of course. She hadn’t really wanted to come. While not exactly shunned, she was hardly a darling of society, and it was a bit of a mystery to her why she’d been invited to the Allens’ benefit ball.
“Because Henry Allen made a wager at White’s that he can raise more money fromhisbenefit ball than Lady Cartwright can from hers,” was Fanny’s explanation.
“He must have wagered very dear, if he’s willing to go to such lengths to win,” Evangeline retorted.
“He always has done,” observed Fanny. “No head for gambling, that one. Still,” she went on, “you might as well go. It’s for a good cause, after all, and I shall be there.” When Evangeline still hesitated, she added, “And it will give Beatrice Allen the start of her life, to see you walk through her door again.”
“The invitation was in her handwriting,” said Evangeline sourly.
Once upon a time, she had considered Lady Allen a friend. After Court’s ignominious death, though, Beatrice had ceased responding to her letters. Evangeline had always suspected that was as much Lord Allen’s doing as Beatrice’s own wish, but it still stung. Allen had been one of Court’s closest friends, and Evangeline knew he had been well aware of her husband’s predilections. She suspected Allen shared them, and had probably recoiled from the scandal as a threat to his own affairs.
Beatrice, perhaps, had dropped her friendship to avoid having to consider her own husband’s tastes.
Fanny smiled in victory. “Then she must truly want you to come, my dear.”
So Evangeline gave in—or rather, fell for Fanny’s manipulations yet again. And now she would be even later than could be called fashionable, as the carriage crawled in fits and starts along the street toward the well-lit house with footmen on the steps. Twice she nearly told the coachman to turn around and take her home, or on to Fanny’s house, where she regularly spent the night to avoid the long drive to Chelsea. But still she dithered, until the last side street had been crossed and there was no alternative but to stop in front of the Allens’, screw up her courage, and go inside.
“Lady Allen,” she cried warmly, clasping fingertips with the hostess. “How delightful to see you again.”
Beatrice Allen faltered a moment before she assumed a smile that was both simpering and stiff. “And you, Lady Courtenay.”
“I was so delighted to receive your invitation,” she went on, unable to resist a little vengeance. “Such a worthy cause! How very noble of you and Lord Allen to take it up. Those poor,dearchildren deserve every bit of your support.” Beatrice’s eyes flashed murder. “And ours, of course—we fortunate members ofsociety who can afford to provide for them,” Evangeline added lightly.
Lately, Lord Allen had decided he was a philanthropist and patron of sundry impressive causes. He’d named this event a “benefit ball,” with the noble (somewhat ostentatiously so) goal of raising funds for the Foundling Hospital. Allen had probably contributed a few bastard children himself to such homes, and Evangeline had to admit the irony was partly what had persuaded her to come.
“Yes,” said Beatrice Allen, her face and her tone wooden. “Of course. We are so pleased you accepted.”
You hoped I wouldn’t have the nerve,thought Evangeline as she tipped her head graciously.
Well. Enough of that ancient history, water so far under the bridge that it had reached the ocean.
Evangeline knew she’d been invited for her wealth, not for her company. Tonight, she decided she would not care. Defiantly she smiled and nodded at a passing matron who was goggling at her. There would be dancing, a singer, and several prominent guests of honor making short speeches about their work, and then an appeal for funds. She’d come to enjoy herself, no matter why she’d been invited.
“At last!” Fanny reached for her hands and pressed them as Evangeline joined her. “Thank God you’ve come. I thought I might perish of boredom.”
She smiled at her friend. “You are never bored.”
Fanny rolled her eyes. “Beatrice wanted that opera singer—do you know the one I mean? The Italian woman?” She waved one hand impatiently at Evangeline’s blank look. “Quite scandalous, I believe. Allen refused to have her. He’s such a tedious fellow.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and raised it in salute.
“So there’s not to be a singer?” Evangeline also took a glass. She adored champagne. It was one of the few unadulterated pleasures of these events.
“No, only musicians. Lord Allen invited several speakers.” Her expression said everything about that. “It will be a miracle if I survive the evening without dozing off.”
“Hush,” said Evangeline with a laugh. “We mustn’t slight the speakers before they even begin.”
“You’re far more patient than I,” murmured the other woman. “Although one of the honored guests is rather handsome. When he speaks, I shall be very attentive.”
“Oh?” Evangeline flicked open her fan. “Which one?”
“An explorer. He’s to speak of his journeys in Africa tonight. Or the Arctic. I’m not sure, and it doesn’t matter.”
