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“How does your butler know who all these people are?” Fiennes murmured.
“Jarvis knows everything,” Ella said, uncaring. “We took white soup off the menu, but I am not entirely certain that I ordered enough delicacies or champagne. Oh, I could murder my uncle! We discussed the precise numbers that we could invite without seeming pitiable when the food ran out.”
“It’s only eight in the evening, and dinner won’t be served until eleven,” Fiennes said. “Let’s send for more.”
“I don’t have any more money,” Ella whispered. “Besides, Fortnum & Mason will already be closed.”
“My club won’t be.” Fiennes looked at one of the hired footmen, who sprang to his side. “I’m Lord Peregrine. Find my coach and tell my man to go to the Savoy and return with a late supper for fifty, and forty bottles of champagne.” Coins clicked, and the footman bowed and ran away.
“You shouldn’t have!” Ella protested. All the same, the anxiety that had gripped her faded away. She dropped his arm and frowned at him. “I do not wish to incur debt, as my uncle has done.”
“I want to help.” His eyes were concerned and caring, not an expression that Ella saw often. It went to her head like fine wine.
“I can pay you back,” she said, trying to maintain her commonsense. She could sell her mother’s pearl circlet, the one she was wearing at this very moment.
“Did you know that in some countries kisses are currency?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “In your imagination.”
Fiennes leaned over so that his breath stirred her ringlets. She caught a whiff of starched linen and fragrant soap.
“My services come very cheap. One kiss would do per crate of champagne.” His dark eyes glittered at her, the message unmistakable.
“Pooh,” Ella said with an airiness that hid the fact that her heart was pounding and she could feel herself turning pink. “You are betrothed to my cousin,” she reminded him.
“No.”
“You took her to the theater this week!”
A grin spread across his face. “You noticed?”
“Of course I noticed,” she said crossly.
“I am not toying with Fulvia’s heart—in fact, I doubt she has one,” Fiennes said bluntly. “But if your uncle becomes aware that I refuse to marry her, how will I be able to visit your house? I have to convince you to marry me before I break off the engagement.”
“That’s not a very kind thing to say about my cousin!”
“Truthful?”
Ella chose not to respond. It was true that Fulvia didn’t give a pea for Fiennes, as far as she could tell. Without noticing, they had walked through the door of the drawing room. “I see what Jarvis means,” she exclaimed. “The room is already so crowded.”
“A huge success,” Fiennes observed. “Your cousin is the belle of the ball and will have any number of suitors to choose from. I doubt she will care that I am not one of them. Sadly, many gentlemen also seem interested in making your acquaintance.”
Ella’s eyes widened, because he was right. She could see gentlemen walking in their direction.
Fiennes leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Their interest is not merely due to your bosom, magnificent though it is.”
“Hush!” Ella cried, rapping him with the silk fan that matched her gown.
“Please give me the first waltz. Your uncle informed me that I shall take your cousin to supper. In the event of a meteor shower, I’d like to escort you to the garden.”
“The meteor shower won’t happen,” Ella told him. “You know how unreliable almanacs are. I merely needed a theme for the ball.”
A gentleman had reached their side.
“If the meteor shower occurs, I will escort you to the garden,” Fiennes said firmly. “Miss Ella St. Trevelyon, may I introduce you to the Honorable Barney Binlap?”
Barney had the guileless blue eyes and the downy hair of a newborn chick. Ella liked him immediately.
