Then, he was informed that the great Conbatten had tracked down the earl’s carriage and made a point to stop.
Then, he was roped in by Lady Mary, her carriage just ahead of the earl’s. What had the lady been thinking of? He could not possibly have spotted her when he was not even looking!
She had called out to him, practically hanging out her window, and he’d no choice but to attend her. That had led to an introduction to her father, who he really had no wish to know.
Lord Covington had eyed him like horseflesh and Matthew dreaded to discover what the gentleman had been told about him. He also wondered if her coming as Catherine of Valois was meant to be some sort of hint that he might be her Henry the Fifth.
At least, she arrived asShakespeare’sversion of that couple. If Lady Mary had read any history books, and he doubted she had, she would not think that marriage anything to emulate.
A footman came round with a tray of champagne. Matthew took one and downed it.
No sooner had he emptied his glass, but it was taken from him and another supplied. Along with that, there were very odd trays approaching with small bits of food on them, each one secured by a thin wood stick.
He took one and discovered it was a baked scallop topped with a circle of thin-sliced ham. It was not bad at all, though he shrugged at the strangeness of food arriving on sticks to people who were standing up.
Matthew supposed everything would be strange this night. People in all manner of dress swirled round him. There were milkmaids and vicars and nuns and Vikings. Mixed into all of this, were dominos everywhere. Precisely what he wished to be wearing himself.
He had no trouble spotting Conbatten. For one, his height gave it away. For another, who else would have so many fawning over him?
Well, at least Matthew could relieve his valet’s feelings when he understood that Conbatten’s valet, the insufferable Henri, could come up with nothing past a very usual domino.
Finally, he saw Beatrice come in with the earl, Darden, and Miss Mayton.
Miss Mayton looked more like a specter than a widow. Her short and stocky frame was entirely garbed in voluminous black taffeta, a black lace veil practically coming to her feet.
Beatrice was dressed as a lady of old. She might be a lady-in-waiting to a Renaissance noblewoman.
Beatrice made her curtsy to Lady Bloomington. She turned to somebody just coming in. Matthew squinted. There was some sort of writing on the band at the back of her mask.
Much Ado…
Much Ado? As his own mask said too.
The situation became clear enough in a moment. Darden. Another of Darden’s jokes.
That scoundrel! How dare he set up him and Beatrice as Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Benedict! It was absurd and embarrassing.
He took another glass of champagne from a passing tray.
Matthew had every intention of sipping, as he’d drunk the last two rather fast. However, it was a bit too much to see Conbatten leaving his admirers and heading over toward Beatrice.
He downed it, handed it to a passing footman, and hurried forward.
Matthew was not alone. Apparently, the YBC rogues had gathered to await her entrance. Lord Jericho, Mr. Cahill, Sir Matthew, and Lord Dunston were also swooping toward her.
He pushed past them and arrived at the earl’s side. Conbatten had taken a sudden turn and strode toward the cloakroom so at least he was got rid of, but the YBC fellows were not so shaken off.
The earl looked bemused at the gentlemen now surrounding his party. “Well?” he said.
“Lord Westmont,” Lord Dunston said, “we are all, of course, hoping to put ourselves down on Lady Beatrice’s card.
“Yes, yes,” the earl said. “I will only point out that a card not yet retrieved cannot be written upon.”
All of the gentlemen looked toward the cloakroom.
Conbatten came forward. “Lady Beatrice, I have taken the liberty of retrieving your card.”
He held it up.
