“That was Lord Colville,” the duke said, still holding onto Beatrice.
“And he was followed by six guardsmen in laced coats with powdered wigs like Amity and His Grace. They were followed by the young princes, and then —”
Amity interrupted Charlotte, “And there was another group in Van Dyke costumes, so clever.”
“Oh, yes, the Duchess of Sutherland was in a Henrietta Maria dress of white satin. Most becoming,” Charlotte continued.
“What does any of this have to do with cards?” Beatrice asked the duke, since her sisters were overcome with describing the costumes.
“Another quadrille set,” he told her. “More royals. Princess Christian dressed as the Queen of Clubs and the Duke of Athole as the King of Spades and whatnot.”
“Why weren’t you with the other dukes?” she asked, feeling better the more distance she had between her and Greer and the disturbing sight of him walking away with Lady Emily.
“I’m not one of the royal dukes,” he said, with a shrug, clearly not bothered. “Merely a regular duke.”
That made her laugh, as if being a duke of any kind could be regular.
“Come along,” Charlotte urged them, “the fairy tales are going to dance next, Cinderella, Puss in Boots, and Little Boy Blue. And the Prince of Wales is the fairy prince in a ruby tunic with grey satin tights and a leopard’s head! I want Beatrice to see them.”
Letting her younger sister grab hold of her, Beatrice released the duke’s arm, and they all moved forward to watch the next royal quadrille.
***
AT HALF PAST TWELVE, their Royal Highnesses led their guests through the ballroom, down a few steps, and into the gardens. Two supper tents, finely decorated, had been set up, a smaller one with a buffet hung with scarlet velvet Indian carpets and scarlet geraniums everywhere, both hanging from the roof and set upon the tables, and a longer tent with tables stretching out for three hundred people to sit and eat.
Naturally, the royals and their guests would sit and be served. And just as naturally, the Duke of Pelham and his family went with them.
Beatrice kept an eye out for Greer, but if he was not with them upon entering, he would undoubtedly end up at the buffet in the other tent. With Lady Emily.
Charlotte had lost none of her excitement as the evening progressed and they took seats among life-sized, decorative armored figures and rich tapestries, making it seem like a medieval feast.
However, her sister quietened after they sat. “Are you terribly disappointed?”
Beatrice froze as she’d been thinking of Greer. “What do you mean? I knew all along Mr. Carson...,” then she trailed off at her sister’s expression.
“I meant with Lord Melton’s odious behavior. You have danced quite a bit with him over the past few weeks, and Delia told me he came to the house.”
Beatrice was pleased to be able to put her sister’s mind at ease. “I could not possibly be less affected by the behavior of the Viscount Melton. Do not worry for me, dear sister. He is of no consequence whatsoever.”
“That’s good. The duke said he never did invite him to St. James’s Place. Lord Melton wasn’t at our first ball. He lied.”
Beatrice nodded and sipped her wine.More deception, but who was she to raise an eyebrow at a blatant lie?
Nonetheless, she decided this would be her last event. She could no longer pretend an interest in any of the men she’d met. It was impossible while her bolder-than-life American strode around the ballrooms and dining rooms of London, vastly more appealing to her than anyone else.
Moreover, she loved him, and he was going to marry Lady Emily.
Despite her decision to end her foray into high society, the evening was not yet over. After they ate, they danced until daylight in three rooms facing the garden — the ballroom where the quadrilles had been, and the library and the dining room on either side of it. Beatrice couldn’t imagine a grander event. It was a perfect time to retreat, as all the rest of the Season would pale in comparison and seem practically shabby. Hopefully, Amity would go with Charlotte in her place.
And then, when Beatrice had danced with so many strangers, made stranger still by their costumes, and when she couldn’t imagine taking another step, Greer appeared before her.
“I’ve been looking for you for ages, Dresden china,” he said. “Dinner was grand, wasn’t it?”
She wanted to say she would have enjoyed it more with him seated beside her, but she didn’t. “It was. I think definitely the best we’ve had all Season, but don’t tell Amity I said so.”
He smiled. “Will you dance with me? I was worried I wouldn’t find you before you left, and that would be a shame. I have grabbed hold of the arm of two other Dresden chinas and been sorely disappointed. Not only that, they seemed ready to scream for help at my familiar manner.”
She chuckled. “I am sure the papers will discuss the opening quadrilles, the tent suppers, and the dangerous Indian chief accosting pastoral young ladies.”
