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It seemed her hostess hadn’t been informed of her unpopularity. “Lord Argyle was the only person who had asked so far,” Bea confessed.

“I’m sorry that your evening has ended in such an abrupt fashion,” the lady continued. “I saw you dancing with Argyle, and it was obvious to all that you have made an impression on him. I hope we can bring him to the point, but not tonight. I’ll summon your chaperone.”

“Unfortunately, Lady Alcon developed a headache and left,” Bea said miserably.

Lady Paget frowned. “She deserted you? What arrangements did she make for your return home?”

“Lady Regina assured her I would have a seat in her carriage.”

Lady Paget’s eyebrow shot up. “Lady Regina is giving away seats in her brother’s carriage without informing him? That’s quite presumptuous.”

Regina hadn’t had the faintest intention of taking Bea home, but Bea kept her mouth shut.

“I shall inform the duke,” Lady Paget decided. “I expect he’ll direct the carriage to bring you home and return later for his sister and himself.”

A maid walked in and stopped short, her mouth falling open as she looked at the water-sopped carpet.

“Water everywhere, cake on the floor,” Lady Paget said. “It’s as if a family of rats rampaged through the chamber. You’ll need to clean it up before anyone sees it. Where have you been?”

The poor maid blinked, and then said, “Mrs. Thatcher felt nauseated, so I took her upstairs for a rest, but once she was there, she grew quite ill. Nellie escorted two other ladies to the same chamber, and both lost everything they’d eaten. I came to find you because Nellie thinks that there may be something wrong with the salmon patty.”

Lady Paget visibly paled. “Has it been removed from the refreshments table?”

“Yes, my lady, but you remember that Cook had shaped it into a dolphin. Only the long nose is left. Everything else was eaten up.”

Bea took one of the lengths of toweling stacked next to the now-empty pitcher and put it on a bench so that she wouldn’t soak the seat. Then she picked up another and wound it around her shoulders before she sat down.

The door eased open, and a liveried footman announced, with his head turned rigidly to the side so he couldn’t see into the room: “Begging your pardon, my lady, but the Prince of Wales has taken ill.”

In the horrified silence that followed, he added, “His Majesty cast up his accounts on the billiards table, and Lord Paget thinks the felt will have to be replaced.”

“Felt!” Lady Paget cried, wild-eyed. “Who cares about felt? The heir to the kingdom might die due to salmon prepared in my kitchens!”

“His Majesty had drunk a large tankard of whiskey as part of a bet, my lady. It’s hard to know whether he ate the salmon, as he’s quite inebriated and isn’t capable of answering questions.”

“His Majesty loathes fish paste,” Bea put in.

From the way Lady Paget visibly jumped, she’d forgotten all about her. “He does? How do you know that?”

The Regent had caught Bea’s attention at her third ball. By then, Regina and the others were already well into their torment of Bea, but she had held out hope that her form was distasteful only to the four of them.

Then she’d run into the Prince Regent in a dusky corridor. She had dropped a deep curtsy, straightening to find His Majesty looking her up and down, swaying slightly.

“You’re a fine heifer,” the prince had said. The words sank into Bea’s ears like a blow. “Fat and frolicking, I’ve no doubt.” He’d reached out as if he was going to pinch her.

She had turned around and fled, running as fast as she could. But it hadn’t stopped her from hearing the Regent’s irritated bellow. “A woman with kettledrums the size of yours should stay put!”

That night, she’d been so horrified at the idea that the Regent might make public comments about her “kettledrums” that she pretended a headache and went home. Since then, she’d watched the Regent as closely as she could, if only to avoid his attention.

“I doubt His Majesty ate the salmon,” she told Lady Paget. “Last week I heard him tell Lord Marcellus that seafood is fattening.”

“Thank goodness,” the lady said, patting her heart. “A drunk monarch is nothing out of the ordinary, but a poisoned one would be disastrous.” She turned to the footman. “Tell Radcliffe that I’ll be along to take care of His Majesty as soon as I arrange for Miss Valentine to be taken home.”

“I’ll fetch a mop, my lady,” the maid said, leaving after a last narrow-eyed look at the wet, food-strewn room.

“I’m so sorry,” Bea said, waving at the floor. “I tried to leave as soon as I realized Lady Regina and her friends had entered, but it was difficult.”

“Where is your father?” Lady Paget asked.