Page 23 of In the Eyes of Lord Lingley

“Do not address her royal highness without her requesting your acquaintance,” one of the footmen growled.

“Her royal…” she began to sputter.

“We have not been introduced,” Lingley snarled, rising to his feet and fixing his waistcoat with a jerk. “But I shall inform you of our names: Infante Juan Carlos Alphonse Felipe Ferdinand de la Vega Lingley, Don de la Vega, Viscount Lingley. This is my wife, Her Royal Highness, Infanta Mary-Hannah Bennet, Donna de la Vega, Viscountess Lingley. I do not care who you and your horrid offspring are, and as a compromise is superfluous at this juncture, you are not invited to enlighten me.”

The woman and her cronies gathered her blubbering, pond scum encrusted daughter and hurried away. Mary felt a flash of empathy for the girl. Her mother was obviously a harridan of the highest order and had Mrs. Bennet been determined to marry her most plain daughter off no matter her wishes, she would likely have acted similarly. She reminded herself how desperately the girl attempted to remain on her husband’s lap, and her sympathy dissolved like soap bubbles in a bath.

“What an end to a perfectly wonderful afternoon,” Lingley groused as he assisted the now frowning Mary to her feet. “I cannot apologize enough for—”

“Nonsense!” Mary silenced him with a look. “That comedy of errors had nothing to do with you. You did nothing to encourage the girl, and they were obviously completely unaware that we had married. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.”

“I suppose I might have sent an announcement of our arrival to the papers…”

“Which papers? All of them? In every port we visit? They saw that you were accompanied and did not care to check who I was,” Mary began to laugh once more, having been put completely at ease by his unaccustomed displeasure. “It is nonsensical, sir.”

Her laughter lightened his pique. “You are likely correct. Shall we return home? We can spend some time in the library working on your Italian before we must prepare for the further horrors of this evening.”

“Now you sound like my brother Darcy,” Mary laughed as he wrapped his hands about her tiny waist and lifted her into the carriage. “He always claims to despise public dancing, though it will be interesting to see what Lizzy might convince him to do now that he is no longer on the marriage mart.”

He laughed in return. “You are likely correct. I normally would have avoided such a blatant attempt at compromise, but I had relaxed too far into my new status as a married gentleman.”

Chapter 14

They had spent time each evening after dinner practicing their dancing with the assistance of several maids and footmen for the dances which required other partners. It had been an entertaining time for all, and Mary’s worries had been for naught, as she was as graceful and knowledgeable of the dances as Lingley had predicted. After Durand and Cortez had prepared her for the evening, Mary took one last look in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. She had never worn such finery in her life, and she truly looked worthy of the sobriquet of your Royal Highness. She sparkled with all the wealth of the Ashford Earldom and finally understood her sister Elizabeth, who claimed that fine clothes were a sort of armor for young ladies. She felt… invincible this evening.

That invincibility lasted through their introduction to their hosts, who were very pleased to have received their acknowledgment and the cachet of their first accepted invitation. Mary curtsied in greeting to the Comtesse de Girault, who gasped quietly, confusing her. Mary had always been awkward, but she was a stickler for propriety and had practiced her curtsies exhaustively. The woman was shocked, but not displeased, so Mary brushed off the encounter to ask Lingley about later and followed him into the ballroom.

They were immediately inundated with greetings from those who knew Lingley and a second gathering nearby them who were hoping for introductions but recognized that it was at the higher title’s discretion. Lingley proudly introduced his bride to all, and her mind was soon drowning in all of the new names and titles. Just when she thought that she could not stuff one more name into her exhausted brain, Lingley whisked her away from the crowd and onto the dance floor for the opening quadrille, there was some confusion as they entered the floor and somehow ended up pushed to the head of the line. Assuming that it was in honor of their newly married status, Mary gamely called for Le Premier Set de Quadrilles and they were off.

“I could see that you were becoming overwhelmed with the number of introductions,” Lingley whispered as they spun. “Do not worry, no one would expect you to remember every name and title after one meeting. If you give me a look, I shall provide the name if needed.”

Mary gave him a scandalized look. “It is the height of discourtesy to not remember the names of new acquaintances, my lord. Of course, I remember them all.”

“All!” he nearly choked. “There were at least three dozen!”

“I have spent nearly the entirety of my life in study and memorization. My father would claim that I only know useless moralistic tracts, but that is untrue. I am widely read and have memorized most of what I felt was interesting or important, including the names, and in this case titles, of new acquaintances.”

“You have hidden this fantastical skill from me, madame,” he teased.

“It did not come naturally to me,” Mary informed him with a grin. “It has required years of practice and effort, but it is quite a habit by this point.”

He added an extra flourish as he spun her under his arm, drawing a tinkle of surprised laughter from his bride. As she regained her equilibrium, she became aware of the twittering and whispering, taking place all about them. There was not a single set of eyes that were not trained in their direction and, to her, each looked to find fault. Her movements became wooden and uncomfortable, but she was saved by her husband’s awareness and the quick end of the dance.

“What is it?” he asked, through smiling lips and gritted teeth. “Did someone offend you? Was something said?”

“Much is being said!” she murmured, painfully aware of their audience. “Surely you are aware of the whispering and judgment. I am sure that I have shamed you in some way. Please, might we leave? I shall feign a faint if I must.”

“May,” His laugh was one of relief, though it raised her hackles. “Have you listened to what is being said?”

“Of course not! I have spent my entire life doing my best to avoid hearing the insults when I possibly can and ignoring what I could not. I have no wish to know the exact words with which I am being vilified.”

“I have heard two words most often, and I do believe that I have heard them more in the last half hour than in the entirety of my life before it,” he declared with earnest solemnity. “Do you not wish to know what they are?”

“Not really,” she muttered desperately, looking about for an escape.

“They are dazzling and incandescent.”

She was so surprised by his statement that she nearly stumbled into a footman who was carrying a tray of used cups from the refreshment table to the kitchen. She flushed becomingly, “Really?”