The carriageshuddered to a stop. The door opened and Jim appeared, the footmanholding out his hand. “Good luck tonight, my lady.”
Sera placed herhand in his, gathering her skirts in the other. “I don’t need luck,Jim. I have a plan.”
His lipstwitched as he helped her descend. “Of course, my lady.”
Setting her footon the gravel, she sniffed. “Don’t be impertinent, Jim. I shouldhate to have to terminate your employment, and it will do you nofavours at this time of year. It would be next to impossible tofind another position at this late stage, you know.”
“Yes, my lady,” he said mildly, as one who was oftenthreatened with such and knew the threat to be completelytoothless. Jim had been in her employ these eight years past, andshe threatened to disengage him at least once a week.
To keep up thefaçade, she sniffed and then sailed into Pruitt House.
She had arrivedalmost two hours after the stated time on the invitation, as shehad always intended, and thus the event was now a crush. Anyone whowas anyone knew to arrive late was an absolute must, and she alwaysadded an extra half hour to ensure she was one of the last toarrive. People spilled from the ballroom into the entrance hall,down the corridors towards the cards and retiring rooms. Alreadythe din was excruciating, the noise of hundreds in too small aplace overwhelming.
Excitement stolethe breath from her lungs. Finally, apprehension waned and she letthe ball wash over her.
The majordomostationed at the threshold to the ballroom nodded as sheapproached. “Lady Seraphina Waller-Mitchell,” heannounced.
His proclamationdrew little notice from the crowd. Lifting her chin, she swept intothe throng. It did not matter that she did not draw notice. Shewould, as always, make them notice.
Conversation andlaughter melded into a cacophony, accompanied by the strains of theorchestra. The dancing had not yet commenced, ladies gossipingbehind their fans while gentlemen pretended they did not listen inearnest. Lady Pruitt had chosen a Greek theme for her ball, withmarble columns and drapery. Grottos had been created from columnsand greenery, the most elaborate housing the orchestra. The grottowith the next best vantage stood on the other side of the ballroomand was already occupied. Four young girls, debutantes all,whispered and giggled where Sera had planned to be.
Annoyance drewher brows. Elizabeth and Maria had been under strict instructionsto reserve the grotto with the best vantage. Stern words would beexchanged once she rectified the situation.
Arriving at thegrotto that should be hers, Sera arranged a pretty smile on herfeatures. “Good evening.”
The girlsstopped talking. “Lady Seraphina,” one exclaimed.
Regally, sheinclined her head. “My dears, I find myself confused as to why youhave taken occupation of this area of the ballroom.”
They glancedamongst themselves. One of them said hesitantly, “Lady Seraphina,we thought—”
“This grotto is not to your best vantage,” she interrupted.“You would do well to remove to the eastern corner of the room,close to the orchestra. The gentlemen always gravitate thatway.”
They glanced ateach other excitedly. “Oh, thank you, Lady Seraphina, thankyou.”
“Ofcourse, my dears. Only too happy to help.”
Breathlesslytalking amongst themselves of which gentleman would take note ofthem, who would have the first dance, and those things thatthrilled debutantes at their first ball, the girlsdeparted.
Slapping her fanin her hand, Sera dropped her smile. Nowshehad the bestvantage.
Taking theirposition framed by the grotto, she flicked her wrist and fannedherself absently as she surveyed the crowd. There was a shockingproliferation of bright colour: reds and blues, oranges and pinks.Lace and ruffles choked gowns, and after years of muslin andcotton, some had ventured into expensive silks. Her own gown lackedembellishment, but that would only make her stand out from thecrowd. Should she also change her colour palette? Currently shewore a rather muted shade of blue, designed to bring out thechestnut highlights in her dark brown hair and the blue flecks inher grey eyes, but perhaps she should go bolder. Maybe this yearher signature colourwouldbe blue, but with shades rangingfrom robin’s egg and periwinkle to royal and navy.
From across theballroom, a girl stared openly at her.
Sera frowned.Was the girl simple? There were ways to observe without beingobvious about it. Tilting her head, she observed the girl from thecorner of her eye. Clearly foreign with brown skin and dark hair,she was dressed in the very height of London fashion, the deepyellow of her gown complementing her skin and setting off her darkeyes. That appeared to be the sum total of her intrigue. She stoodwith no one of note, and she had attracted little notice fromanyone who was anyone.
Dismissing her,Sera continued her perusal.
“Lady Seraphina, a delight as always.”
How verytiresome. “Your grace,” she said flatly.
The Duke ofSutton offered her what no doubt would be termed a charming smirk,one that said he knew of his attractiveness—with his wealth and histitle and his handsomeness—and he also knew one should be flatteredhe deigned to acknowledge you. “Come, my dear, surely we have agreater acquaintance than that? Last year, you called meSutton.”
“That was last year,” she said dismissively.
“Last year, you also permitted…familiarities.”
