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“I fancy my daughter will be judged a diamond after this evening,” the viscount said. He cast a sideways glance at Ella. “You might attract a suitor or two yourself.”

“I certainly hope so,” the viscountess said warmly. She looked better than she had the previous week. Putting away her restrictive corsets had restored color to her cheeks.

“You may join us in the receiving line,” the viscount said with the air of a king bestowing largesse on the hoi polloi. “I would remind you, however, that you are not here merely to dally with gentlemen. I expect the ball to go smoothly with excellent food, champagne constantly circulating, and no drunk musicians! If this ball isn’t a success, I shall know at whose feet to place the blame!”

“I can’t wait for the performance of Romeo and Juliet,” Fulvia cried, ignoring her father’s diatribe entirely. She was tweaking her long gloves. “Mr. Woodward is playing Romeo!”

The viscount twitched as if he were about to speak, but subsided. None of them shared Fulvia’s passion for the theater—nor for Mr. Woodward, for that matter.

To Ella, who had now seen the play twice, the lead actor seemed like a pleasant lout, though it was clear he was desperately in love with her cousin.

On her second visit to the theater—seated in Lord Peregrine’s box, but without its owner—Woodward had stolen endless glances at Fulvia, even when he was supposed to be “taming” his wife.

Jarvis opened the door, and the ball officially opened. When the butler beckoned an hour later, Ella immediately deserted the receiving line.

“At least a third of our guests did not appear on the invitation list,” Jarvis said grimly. “I can only assume that his lordship freely invited people whom he encountered at his club.”

Ella swallowed an unladylike curse. “Do we have enough champagne?”

“Perhaps. But not enough white soup, and Cook has no veal stock to make more. I’ll take it off the menu.”

A gentleman came up and slapped Jarvis on the back. “Austen! Won’t you introduce—” His voice broke off as Jarvis turned and bowed.

“Excuse me, sir, but I believe you have mistaken me for someone else.”

The man blinked and nodded. “Right you are.”

“You do look magnificent in a morning coat,” Ella said to Jarvis, after the man turned away. “I’m not at all surprised that you were mistaken for a guest from the rear.”

“The gentleman must be inebriated,” Jarvis stated. “The other problem I have encountered is that Juliet has not made an appearance.”

Ella frowned. “Whom do you mean?”

“The young woman who is to play the role of Juliet,” Jarvis amended. “Mr. Woodward has arrived. I am sorry to say that he has no sense of his place and has allowed himself to be drawn into conversation in the drawing room, but will not be, I fancy, so lost to propriety that he takes to the dancefloor.”

“He has a great many admirers among the young ladies,” Ella said. Over the butler’s shoulder she saw Lady Regina and Lord Peregrine approaching.

“More importantly, Jarvis, do keep an eye on my aunt, won’t you?” she said urgently. “She already looks tired. She promised me that she would retire early if she grows winded or overly exhausted.”

“A last few housekeeping arrangements?” Lady Regina said coolly, arriving at Jarvis’s side. Her eyes lingered unpleasantly on Ella’s breasts.

Ella caught Lord Peregrine’s gaze, and what she saw in his eyes made her heart start beating heavily. As a consequence, she greeted Regina with a genuine smile. “Good evening, Lady Regina. Lord Peregrine.”

Regina moved her chin in an approximation of a nod.

Fiennes swept into a bow. “I was dismayed not to find you in the receiving line so that I could ask for the first waltz.”

Ella bit back another smile. He had been truthful. He was courting her, even before Lady Regina.

For her part, Regina looked strangely satisfied, excusing herself with a smirk as she walked away.

Ella didn’t have time to consider Regina’s expression; Fiennes took her arm and smiled down at her. “You look damned gorgeous,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Ella was startled into laughter. “That’s your civilized attempt at courtship, my lord?”

“I don’t feel civilized around you,” Fiennes said. “What made you so anxious while conversing with the butler? Strangely, he looks somewhat familiar to me.”

“People often mistake Jarvis for someone they know. He has that sort of face.” Ella let her hand tighten around Fiennes’s arm. It was so reassuringly muscled and bulky. “Apparently, my uncle encouraged a great many people who weren’t on our original invitation list to attend the ball.”