Page 19 of A Very Surrey SFS Christmas

“To Lady Portia!” chorused the members.

Embarrassed at the lavish praise, she waved a hand. “Now, now, we mustn’t dally out here a moment longer. I’m expecting you to mingle, to complete your duty dances…ladies, do watch the jolly gentleman in the unicorn mask, his horn is hazardous. But above all, have a wonderful evening. We have several of Denham’s finely trained men scattered throughout the ballroom, ready to escort any troublemakers away. This includes you, Faffy. And Mittens.”

Amelia giggled. “With all due respect to Denham’s men, this is His Grace and Mittens we are talking about.”

Faffy nodded, preening a little. “Quite right, gel. But you heard the lady, time for the ball. And brandy. Lord knows I need a brandy, that’s if I can still hold a glass after shaking ten thousand hands. Probably more. My poor glove is near-soaked through.”

Portia stifled a grin as they moved toward the ballroom. “Plenty of brandy. And tonight, I’ll even refrain from switching it for a tonic.”

Her father-in-law sniffed. “Then I might even save you a waltz. Tis a sad, sad state of affairs that my son has feet of stone on the dance floor.”

“Fortunately he has a few other redeeming qualities,” she replied, glancing at her husband and winking.

Randall coughed and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall. Masks on, everyone.”

When they entered the ballroom, Portia couldn’t help but take a moment to admire her handiwork. It really did look festively splendid with Beatrice and Amelia’s wreathes, heavy white satin ribbon looping from window to window, and Clayton’s silver urns overflowing with hothouse flowers. In one corner a string quartet played music for the dancing, in another sat trestle tables covered in white cloths on which supper would be served, and an ice sculpture of an angel complete with harp. Mummers and jugglers were performing on a raised dais, and she’d also set up two antechambers for card games, and the poetry display. Naturally, for the evening, footmen would circle with trays of wine, lemonade, and rum punch for thirsty guests.

“I’m so impressed with the masks,” said Susanna. “I think this might be the most colorful collection in English history. My Lord of Misrule is going to have a terrible time trying to decide the winner!”

Portia nodded, her lips twitching. “Rather him than me. Which to choose? Our own elegant demi masks? Snarling wolf or rampant lion? The castle? The lady who has a miniature Guildford town clock protruding from her forehead?”

“Exactly. Or do you select one with a Christmas theme? There are those large sprigs of holly and mistletoe, the plum pudding complete with sixpence on top, not to mention the family sporting gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

“Personally,” said Beatrice, “I love Mr. Johnston’s. Only a haberdasher would wear a peacock mask so beautifully trimmed. Those sequins, paste jewels, and feathers…Amelia nearly swooned.”

“As did a certain modiste,” murmured Randall. “Look, they are dancing together. Another good campaign that took time. Now, Portia, would you like another wine, or perhaps even to risk swaying to the music with me?”

Portia beamed as she patted his arm. “One more wine shall provoke me to display as much courage as Mr. Johnston, and accept your gallant offer to sway, Captain.”

“Huzzah!” he replied. “Prepare to be swept off your feet, my lady.”

In truth, she had a very good feeling that it would be a most memorable evening. Her true love at her side, her friends around her, all ready to add some wicked fun to proceedings.

Exactly how a Surrey Sexual Freedom Society Christmas should be.