“No praise, Xander. We have work to do. Afterwards, you might purchase me a drink or two.”
By Friday, atBellingham’s trial, the man was declared sane and was sentenced to death. A pardon had never been a consideration, for the government meant to quash any hopes of an overthrow. Instead, those in charge had sent for Brunskill, the executioner.
Lady Emma’s father and Theodora’s were the only among their party who had attended the execution, though Duncan thought perhaps he had spotted Aaran Graham among the protestors, but no acknowledgements were exchanged, for doing so would put Graham in danger.
Duncan said, “Bellingham was a hero to the crowd gathered to view his execution. Quite frightening. I fear we are in for greater stratagems. The crowd called out ‘God bless you!’ They have made a hero out of a man too simpleminded to know how to make a living for himself.”
Emma’s father reported, “Supposedly, Bellingham told Brunskill, ‘I thank God for having enabled me to meet my fate with so much fortitude and resignation.’” Lord Donoghue sighed heavily. “I pray London and all of England will not know the same fate as 1798 Paris.”
Theodora glanced to Lady Emma, who reached for Orson’s hand, and Dora wished she held a means of support, but Alexander had, again, not joined them for supper.
She knew her father had taken note of how Lord Donoghue’s comments had affected all in attendance. Such was the way with Macdonald Duncan. “Hopefully,” he said, “the world learned its lesson, and if Wellesley and our allies have a say, humanity, and especially those of us in England, will know peace.”
Finally, after allthe waiting and maneuvering, news arrived at Duncan Place of the arrival of the Marquis of Honfleur, his daughter, and his niece at Amgen House. A small staff had been hired to cook and to tend the house, but his lordship’s coachman, another man, and one maid, was the extent of the marquis’s personal staff, which spoke loudly to any who knew of the complexities of traveling abroad, but not loud enough for many in London to know caution. Every event of the Season was abuzz with word of the French marquis and his family. No one considered the fact Great Britain was at war with France. “Society” was “society” in the heads of thehaut tonas many of Great Britain’s noble families traced their ancestry to the Norman Conquest of William the Conqueror in 1066, while the 16th and 17th centuries found Protestant Huguenots fleeing religious persecution and settling predominately in East London. Therefore, the French could be readily counted in many family entries in Debrett’s.
“What did you two decide to wear as costumes for the masque?” Duncan asked Theodora and Emma over breakfast on Tuesday before the masque where they all would have their first look at Lord Jacobi Moreau, the Marquis of Honfleur.
Lady Emma said, “We, meaning Richard and I, agreed Lord Beaufort’s suggestion held merit, but neither Theodora nor I were comfortable in nearly-sheer white draped cloth, and I would not wish Orson to be ‘demanding satisfaction’ if another gentleman proved himself rude. So, with Marjory’s and Winston’s assistance and suggestions from Madame Emmeline, we are Greek goddesses, not Grecian citizens, with the white gowns, but draped discreetly with sashes, and we will each wear a gold laurel leaf band in our hair.”
“Which goddesses?” Duncan asked.
“Those that rule the world,” Theodora explained with a sigh of relief. She had half expected her father to suggest she arrive at the masque dressed as a shepherdess—covered from neck to toes. “But Emma and I must first learn a bit more about some of the goddesses. I would not wish to rule flood waters, but, rather, a peaceful stream that feeds the community through which it flows. Such would fit me well.”
Alexander had tarriedoutside of the Godfrey house long enough to be only two people behind the unknown Marquis of Honfleur and the most beautiful woman Alexander had ever seen. Yet, it was perhaps the costume she wore that had drawn his attention, not the woman herself, for there was, most assuredly, not enough cloth covering her body for her not to be considered scandalous. When Lord and Lady Hartis sniffed their aristocratic noses in disapproval of both the girl’s ensemble and the French marquis being placed before them and suddenly left the line, Alexander was able to move one place closer to the pair, where he might listen in on their conversation.
“Relax your shoulders and lift your chin,”the marquis warned under his breath as the pair assumed their placebefore others awaiting admittance. Alexander noted the man used perfect English in his instructions, not French. Alexander’s French was very good, but not good enough to pass himself off as a Frenchman for more than a few minutes. Evidently, the French marquis had forgotten that particular lesson.
“Yes, sir,”the young woman responded, but in Alexander’s opinion, she appeared quite frightened by the marquis, which set off Alexander’s need to protect her.
She wore red, the color of a fallen woman. “Why did the marquis dress her as such?” Alexander asked himself. “She assuredly does not appear to be anything but frightened out of her wits to be standing at the marquis’s side.”
“Lord Honfleur,” Lady Godfrey said with a twitter of obvious delight, for the woman would claim the pleasure of saying she was the first hostess to entertain the Marquis of Honfleur’s presence at her fête.
“My lady.” The marquis bowed over the woman’s hand, offering an air kiss several inches above her ladyship’s gloved knuckles for effect. “Merci de m’avoir reçu. I be much honored by your reception.”
Though he knew the answer, Alexander briefly wondered where the perfect English of only a few seconds prior had disappeared. Lord and Lady Nowland were ahead of him in the line, but they did not appear to be paying attention to the marquis, but those behind him were, for many had pressed forward.
Lady Godfrey trilled her response. “I am equally honored, my lord.”
The marquis tugged the girl closer to his side, but he continued to speak to Lady Godfrey. “Pardon, madam.Mon anglais n’est pas aussi parfait que je le sou haiterais. My English not so perfect.”
“Nor is your French,” Alexander thought, but he was watching the girl who appeared frightened by the way her uncle handled her.
Honfleur continued in what could only be called a pretense of broken English. “Madam, I mean, my lady,permettez-moi, to presentma nièce, Miss Moreau. I fear my daughter was delayed.”
Lady Godfrey reached out a hand to the girl. “We are perfectly happy to host any of your family, my lord.” To the girl, her ladyship said, “Are you not the most handsome of ladies? Lord Honfleur will require a sharp sword to keep the young gentlemen from whisking you away.”
The young woman responded in a slow, exaggerated enunciation, mimicking her uncle’s, “The… honor… is… mine… my lady.”
The people behind them edged closer still, and Lady Godfrey frowned at their forwardness, but she gestured towards the ballroom. “Please enjoy yourself.”
The marquis led the girl in a low bow of parting, and they walked away together. Alexander would finagle a means of dancing with the woman or talking to her to learn what he could of Honfleur. He thought of Beaufort and turned to find his friend. They had an arrangement that Beaufort would attempt to woo the French marquis’s daughter and Alexander would do the same with the niece. He knew Navan would be upset that the daughter was not in attendance. He had seen the earl step down from his coach a minute or two before Honfleur was moved to the head of the line.
Even before the marquis introduced the young woman as his niece, Alexander had known her identity, for the daughter was said to possess coal-black hair and the niece reportedly had red hair. He wondered briefly where the daughter was this evening. He supposed Beaufort would not be happy, but Alexander hadan assignment to complete, and so he waited until the Nowlands had their time with the Godfreys.
As he was now near the top of the entrance steps, he turned again to view Beaufort and send his friend the previously agreed upon gesture, but, instead, he spotted Richard Orson and Duncan assisting their ladies from Duncan’s carriage. First, Lady Emma stepped down wearing a Greek goddess style gown, draped in blue, and then Theodora followed, dressed similarly, but with green as the coordinating color. Alexander had missed Dora terribly, but he knew his actions were for the best. That is, until Justin Hartley climbed down from the coach directly behind Duncan’s. It was the one belonging to Lord Donoghue. Hartley placed Theodora’s ungloved hand on his arm, and Dora smiled up at the man.
“Out of sight…” he murmured, but did not finish the familiar phrase, for the line ahead moved again, and it was his turn to speak to the Godfreys.
