The Duke of Carlisle stepped forward and said, “The Duke of Gravesley has expounded on our sentiments eloquently. For myself, I am not gifted with speeches and so will only say a word to the ridiculous footmen in the back of the room—you are idiots, down to a man.”
Laughter and clapping rose up in the room and dozens turned to see how the gentlemen of the pact would receive the condemnation.
Cassandra could not help but look. That the gentlemen had been humiliated was not in doubt, even Lord Dalton had the good grace to stare at his boots.
“Miss Knightsbridge?” the Prince Regent asked, holding out his hand.
Cassandra took it and the musicians struck up.
It became apparent, as they began the steps, that she and the Regent would execute the first steps alone.
She felt her cheeks flame to see so many people with their eyes trained squarely upon her. She was comforted by the idea that this moment, which would pass, was likely the worst of the evening.
Remarkably, the prince was nimble on his feet. Though he looked ponderous, he moved with a lightness that did not seem to match his size.
As Cassandra danced, her eyes took in the surrounding faces. Her father, Lady Sybil, the Dowager, Lady Blakeley. And then, among them, the approving looks of the others. All of those others who had mercilessly laughed at her and pretended to be shocked by her. They were all her friends now.
She would accept their friendship for what it was, hollow and convenient. She thought she had learned two hard lessons from the trial she’d been through—one could not place one’s opinion of oneself in the hands of others, and society was comprised of frightened people terrified of losing their place. The terror ran so deep that it was a relief to them to understand that it was someone else in peril and not themselves.
Cassandra felt older, and wiser, too. She did not know if being who she was with no pretense would always be so approved of, but she was determined not to care. The ton had no more hold on her.
As for Lord Hampton, she wished she could say he no longer had a hold on her, either. She was determined it be so and supposed only time would assist in that endeavor.
Chapter Seventeen
Edwin had feltas if his face flamed like a fire ever since he’d donned the livery. His valet had almost fallen over when he saw it. Mackly had picked up the coat and stared at it, then said, “You go to a mask, my lord?”
“I wish it were so,” he’d answered.
Of course, Mackly’s reaction was nothing compared to his butler. Dreyfus had looked positively offended when he’d descended the stairs. His own footmen had looked on in astonishment—he’d no doubt they’d laughed into their sleeves as soon as he’d left the house.
He did not know what he’d expected to occur at Carlton House, he’d had some idea that they’d be paraded around, forced to serve something to somebody, and then allowed to go home. That had not been the case.
Upon arrival, they’d not been greeted by the prince or their fathers. They’d not even been let in the front door. Rather, they had found themselves taking orders from a butler, a certain Mr. Grimes, who informed them in the most condescending terms possible that they were to assist with the carriages. For a start.
He’d had to restrain Dalton from attacking the man, though Grimes had looked down his long nose with amusement and disdain. Whatever their standing in society had ever been, for this night they were nobodies that were to be lorded over by the prince’s butler.
Miss Knightsbridge’s carriage had been the first to arrive.
The dowager had descended and taken great pleasure in his predicament. There would be no sympathy from that quarter. The viscount had never set eyes on him and so took no more notice of him than he would any other footman in any other house. Though, he doubted that would hold through the entire evening.
Edwin knew Miss Knightsbridge would see him eventually, he had thought to keep his head down and avoid being recognized by her as she exited her carriage. It was bad enough that he would be seen indoors, but to be seen standing on the drive?
Though he had planned to avoid her gaze, he found he could not. When she’d been framed in the door of the carriage, as beautiful as ever and dressed in a stunning diamond encrusted gown, he had spoken.
He wished he had not. Her expression told him all—the last person in the world that Miss Knightsbridge was interested in encountering was himself.
He could, at least, be satisfied by her reception at Carlton House. The room was filled with admirers of Miss Knightsbridge. It seemed the damage had been repaired, though he could not take credit for it. His grandmother and father and the Prince Regent had seen it done.
Edwin had almost got used to the humiliation of standing around in livery, having become a servant who had been used to being served. However, the dukes would not let it be so. His father, in particular, would not let it be so.
The Duke of Carlisle could not let stand Graveley’s rather civil remarks. No, his father must pointedly call them idiots, down to a man.
That theywereidiots, he was already too well aware. He could easily ignore the laughter at his expense, it was Miss Knightsbridge’s serious expression that cut far deeper.
Now, Miss Knightsbridge danced with the Regent as the rest looked on. She was glorious in that gown. Edwin could not be certain where all those diamonds had come from, but he suspected his grandmother. He would have gone to Brazil and dug them up himself if it pleased Miss Knightsbridge.
Perhaps the only bright spot to think of was his tête-à-tête with Lady Blakeley earlier in the day. That kind lady had summoned him to her house and forced him to own all. She had guessed that he had a singular interest in Miss Knightsbridge and thought it just as bizarre as his grandmother had that he’d participated in the ridiculous scheme to create gossip about her. He attempted to explain as best he could, though he’d been well aware it had sounded ludicrous. Lady Blakeley had viewed the disaster with more humor than his grandmother had and seemed more certain that all might not be lost.
