“You refer to Christina?” he guessed, remembering David had only two sisters.
“Indeed.”
He nodded his understanding, apparently pleased he had something to say to the tall brunette who stood next to the even taller Viscount Cougham.
George handled the introductions, and Adeline watched in delight as Lady Weatherstone fawned over Ertugrul’s clothes. When he asked if she might join him for the Scottish reel—if she hadn’t already promised it to someone else—she looked positively crestfallen. “There isn’t one scheduled, but I may have to have the orchestra add one,” she replied.
Glancing over at her brother, Adeline noticed how he was having trouble suppressing his amusement. He had obviously told Ertugrul to ask for that particular dance knowing full well the Weathertones never offered a Scottish reel at their balls.
Once through the line, George informed the announcer as to their identities, the man’s eyes widening at learning a sultan’s son was among the guests.
“What’s happening?”
Adeline leaned closer to Ertugrul. “He will announce us and then we make our way down the stairs,” she murmured. “I merely try not to look too frightened that I’ll trip and fall flat on my face.”
She made the comment so seriously, Ertugrul placed his other hand on her arm and said, “I’ll catch you before that happens.”
At the very moment her mouth opened to mention that he would be descending the stairs by himself, the announcer stated, “His Eminence, the Emir Ertugrul Effendi of the Ottoman Empire and Miss Bennett-Jones.”
Ertugrul glanced over at Adeline before he led her down the stairs, nodding first to the left and then to the right in acknowledgement of the smattering of applause that sounded from those already in attendance.
For a moment, he felt a bit overwhelmed by the excitement and grandeur. Everyone appeared dressed in their finest attire, the women in beautiful gowns, their hair adorned with turbans or feathers or glittering tiaras, and the men in tailcoats and waistcoats of every color. Apparently, the ones wearing the bright colors were the peacocks.
Vaguely aware of the announcer calling out his host’s names and David’s, Ertugrul was momentarily relieved he hadn’t had to make the descent by himself. A quick glance at Adeline showed she displayed a pleasant expression, although her color was high with what he assumed was nervousness.
Halfway down the stairs, he took note of the lighting. Several chandeliers, candelabras, and wall sconces cast the large room in a golden glow. Although the dancing hadn’t yet begun, music filled the air from a small orchestra set up in one corner. A table off to one side held a huge punchbowl, and several footmen carrying salvers bearing champagne moved through the growing crowd.
By the time they made it to the bottom of the stairs, conversations and laughter had already resumed, the air abuzz with energy.
“Now what do we do?” he asked as they stepped aside to make way for the rest of the family to join them.
“You’re with me,” David said as he headed off into the crowd.
Ertugrul glanced back at Adeline. “What about you?”
“Wallflowers, remember?” she replied with a grin, indicating the end of the room where a line of potted palms stood in front of a mural depicting a scene of nymphs in a forest. A number of young ladies stood in small clusters, their heads dipped in quiet conversation.
Nodding his understanding, Ertugrul remembered her description of wallflowers and wondered how she had aligned herself with those who stood on the sidelines and watched. From his time with her that afternoon, he would not have thought her awkward or uncomfortable in a crowd. In fact, from the way the other young ladies greeted her, it was evident she wasn’t shy.
“Would you like champagne?”
Giving a start, Ertugrul realized David must have asked the question twice. “I don’t drink spirits,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” David replied, helping himself to a glass from a footman’s tray. Before he could take a drink, his gaze lifted to the top of the stairs. “She’s here.”
The booming voice of the announcer called out some new arrivals, and most of the heads in the room looked up to see the Duke and Duchess of Ariley descend the steps followed by Lady Rose and her brother, William, Earl of Waverley.
“She did not look like that this afternoon,” Ertugrul remarked. Dressed in an ivory satin ballgown trimmed in Belgium lace, her hair adorned with a jeweled tiara, Lady Rose was a diamond of the first water. She had been every year since her come-out. With her chin held high and lips curled in a wan grin, she appeared positively regal.
“She’s looks like a damned princess,” David said before draining his champagne in a single gulp.
Ertugrul turned to regard his friend with a look of confusion. “Is that not good?”
“I don’t want to have to vie for her attentions with twenty other blasted bucks,” David groused.
“I doubt you will have to do such a thing. Especially if you were to go to her right now and request the supper dance.” He was about to ask why there would be any bucks in the ballroom but thought better of it. Surely their hosts didn’t allow wildlife indoors.
Apparently deciding Ertugrul had the right of it, David made his way back to the base of the stairs, bowing to the duke and duchess before stepping forward to offer his arm to Rose.
