“He wouldn’t like it,” Marcus admitted. “He doesn’t like to be questioned.”
“By his valet? I should think not!” Perry said.
“I just wonder about it, though,” Marcus went on. “He could have worn a domino, I bet there would have been a hundred like it at the ball.”
“Why would you imagine that Lord Langley would have disguised himself from his own mother at an event where he was expected?” Perry asked, now perennially suspicious of the valet’s endless curiosity.
Marcus seemed embarrassed by the question and did not answer.
“Maybe,” Thomas said, “he don’t want to be Poseidon and he don’t want his ma to know it. So he goes in disguise and then pretends the queen called for him.”
“Thomas,” Perry said, “if you ever again refer to Lady Mendleton asma, you will be dismissed.”
Thomas nodded gravely, as if this were a point he would file away for the future. He’d lived a rougher upbringing than most and was forever encountering mistakes he never saw coming. Jimmy patted his shoulder in solidarity.
“Ifwe are done speculating on a subject we know nothing about,” Perry said, “it would be an ideal time to discuss the ball.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Perry was not ignorant of its cause—this was the first large ball the house had hosted in years. Oh, there had been routs and card parties and musical evenings. There had even been the ghastly scavenger hunt that everybody would like to forget on account of Lady Brathwaite breaking her leg on the stairs. Fortunately, the lady had been still young and the bone had mended, but poor Lord Mendleton had been called Break-a-leg-Benjamin for the rest of the season. Had the stairs been over-zealously polished? Possibly. Had Lady Brathwaite fallen because of her speed and competitiveness? Definitely.
Now, they were to embark on a project that exceeded anything they had done before. A ball…a very large ball. There would be extra footmen brought in and Jimmy and Thomas would be stretched to their limits in supervising them. An elaborate menu had been settled upon and the cook would be pressed to ever greater heights. Perry presumed he could look forward to a few breakdowns and threats of handing in notice. Musicians inside, and the traffic of carriages outside, all must be managed. The maids had been bringing him all sorts of lists about what was required in the ladies’ retiring room and he did not dare ask the reason for half of it. Champagne was even now sitting in the cold cellar. Wines had been selected by his own hand in conference with Lord Mendleton.
The house must be readied and shine like it had never done before. The ballroom floor must be chalked so they had no repeat of the Break-a-leg-Benjamin fiasco. Perry shuddered to think what he would deal with when the artist turned up. The fellow was meant to chalk in Lord Mendleton’s coat of arms and he’d sketched it out a week ago, but Lady Mendleton had changed her mind and now it was to be blooming roses.Hewould be left to deliver that delightful piece of news.
Perry surveyed the faces looking toward him, waiting for his guidance. He set his teacup down with deliberation. “Each of you will have a critical role to play. Each of you will play it flawlessly like a well-choreographed ballet. That ballet will be directed expertly by me.” He paused for dramatic effect, allowing the silence to further imbue gravity to his words. “Directed by Mr. Aldous Perry—your butler.”
The servants all nodded at this proclamation.
Jenny lifted her teacup in his direction and said, “Right you are, Mr. Perry.”
Perry suppressed a sigh. Jenny had the remarkable ability to instantly take an inspiring moment right down to the commonplace.
*
Georgiana flipped thepages ofZastrozziaimlessly as she sat in her bedchamber. When she was not pretending to read, she gazed out the window and watched the comings and goings of the two very officious sparrows in the tree outside as evening slowly stole over the Town. The two birds seemed to have a lot to do before they settled in for the night. Finally, they went into their box and did not come out again, leaving her to her book.Zastrozzihad become her standby prop to appear as if she was doing something, though she found the story rather dreadful and only read bits and pieces. As far as she could tell, everybody was going to die.
The dress she would wear to Lady Mendleton’s ball had been taken out of its linen wrappings and lay on the bed. If she did not have so much care upon her heart, what would it have been to gaze at such a miracle of a gown? Never had she seen anything more beautiful. It was the softest ivory silk, with a blush gauze overlay dotted with pearls that were tinged pink in the light. Those same pearls edged the bodice and the sleeves and Lady Mendleton had told her they were imported from the Caribbean. After the ballgown’s usefulness expired, the pearls would be removed and made into a necklace. The whole thing must have taken weeks and an army of seamstresses to sew, and Georgiana could not even bear to imagine the cost.
It was lovely and she was cognizant of how lucky she was, but she could not put her whole mind to it. There was so much else to think about.
The days following the masque had been odd indeed. Lady Mendleton had been sorely affected by her son’s absence at the ball. She’d gone to such trouble for his costume! Over the course of days, Georgiana began to understand that it was less the lady’s own disappointment in the scheme and more having to face up to her friends. Apparently, she’d said quite a lot to them about the Poseidon costume. Lady Heathway, in particular, seemed loathe to drop the subject.
Then, of course, Jasper was less in the house than ever.
Lady Mendleton had eventually softened on the matter of the Poseidon costume and now entirely blamed the queen for it. It seemed that Jasper had told his mother that he had been called away by that great lady and had no choice but to go.
Georgiana did not really believe it, but at least Lady Mendletondidand had been mollified. She supposed she should be grateful that he’d not told his mother the real reason—that he had stayed away as part of his campaign to avoid his mother’s foolish female charity cause from the countryside.
Now it was the evening of the ball. The sun had dropped and the sparrows were quiet in the darkness that enveloped them. How lovely it must be to live the life of a sparrow—no uncomfortable memories or feelings haunted them, and they were secure and at peace in their box. She did not know how sparrows went about choosing their mates, but she suspected it had been done with little fuss and there had been no wondering or wishing or regrets.
As the time ticked nearer for her to dress, Georgiana felt her stomach do little flips. She would dance with him.
Jasper might have stayed away from the masque, but he would not dare miss his own mother’s ball—a fact that Lady Mendleton had pressed not a few times in conversation with him. He was to know that she would not be able to face her friends if he did, would be heartbroken forever, and she really did not care if the queen’s hair was on fire and she needed him to come and put it out.
He would come. He would also put his name down on her card, for to not do so would be noted. He would not claim her supper, though. Of that she was certain.
She had not the first idea whowouldtake her into supper. Lord Asturt had sent his regrets earlier in the day, having come down with a fever. Lady Mendleton might have taken it as a slight, had the gentleman not written a full two pages of regret in the most dramatic and high-flown language possible. In the end, the lady had been satisfied that he must be laid very low and devastated to miss a ball held for Miss Wilcox. The lady only hoped he did not actually perish as he might end up being a serious suitor.
Georgiana, herself, was not certain how she felt about Lord Asturt’s absence.
