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“Ohmy,” she said, her gaze sweeping over Amelia. “Your Royal Highness, you look...stunning.”
Amelia blushed at the compliment. “Thank you.” The gown, made by a French dressmaker her mother favored, fit her perfectly. The bodice was cut low, the ribboned sleeves were off her shoulders. The tiered skirt was pale green but was split in front to reveal a pink petticoat, emblazoned with dozens of tiny white rosebuds that matched those that lined the tiers of the skirt. “Has the ball begun?”
“Indeed it has. There are three hundred and twenty-four guests, which is twenty-four more than were invited.” Lila laughed. “It’s a perfect evening. The sun is warm, the lawn tended, the ballroom transformed.”
Amelia drew a breath.
“Are you ready?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“No? What are you missing? A fan?” Lila looked around the room and picked up one Lordonna had left for her.
“It’s...” She paused and pressed her palms to the sides of her waist. She was experiencing a sudden and uncharacteristic absence of confidence. “What if they don’t care for me? Sometimes people don’t care for me, have you noticed? In Wesloria, theymustcare for me. I mean they must never say an untoward thing about me. They would smile and—”
“They will adore you, Highness,” Lila said softly. “How can they not?”
She appreciated Lila’s attempt to calm her, but she knew herself. “It is possible. My mother says that my prospects would be much improved if I didn’t talk as much as I do.”
Lila laughed. “You have nothing to worry about. These people have driven miles to meet you. Theywantto hear you talk. I am confident you will be much admired.” She held out her hand. Amelia reluctantly took it. Lila squeezed it. “I have never seen you be anything but poised and confident. Even at your father’s abdication, and again at his funeral...you held your head high. This ball is nothing compared to those moments.Thisis what you love to do. Don’t let the fact that they are the English Quality and a bit stodgy dim your light.”
Amelia slowly smiled. “I do love to dance,” she admitted. “Truly, they can be a bit stodgy, can’t they?”
Lila grinned. “Shall we?”
Amelia had waited a month for this. Her nerves aside, she was not going to miss a ball. “Yes.”
Down the stairs she and Lila went, and then across the great corridor that connected the new part of the house to the old. They walked to the top of the stairs where the butler, Garrett, was waiting to announce her. Blythe and Beck were waiting for her in their formal dress. Blythe’s cheeks were rosy, which Amelia had learned meant she’d had a nip of whisky. And if there was any doubt of it, Blythe gasped so loud when she saw Amelia that she felt compelled to slap a hand over her own mouth. “God help us all, Your Royal Highness. You are avision.Your dress is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Blythe swooned again. “And your hair!” She was looking at the white braid.
Amelia touched it. “Donovan did that.”
“Magnificent,” she said, casting her arms wide. “Just magnificent!”
“Yes, darling, she is magnificent, but repeating it over and over doesn’t make it any more so,” Beck said. “Your Royal Highness, welcome to your ball. Are you ready?”
Amelia smiled. “I think I am.”
“I’ll be at the bottom of the stairs to make introductions,” Lila said, and slipped past them to hurry down.
“We’ll be there, too,” Beck assured her. “I won’t have the lowly men of England swarming you like bees in a hive.”
Amelia laughed. She was feeling herself again. Eager. Ready to dance, to flirt, to laugh.
Beck nodded at Garrett. He, in turn, hit a gong that caused Amelia to give a small cry of alarm. The music below ended abruptly, and behind the butler, Beck smiled at Amelia and held out his arm.
“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Amelia Katrina Ivanosen of Wesloria,” Garrett called out, then stepped aside.
Beck and Amelia moved to the top of the stairs to begin their descent into the ballroom. The first thing she noticed was the brilliance of the half dozen crystal chandeliers polished to reflect millions of shards of light. The gold-plated candelabras had been spaced equally around the room so that the ballroom appeared to be glowing. Beyond that, doors were opened to the lawn, where at least a dozen torch lights flickered.
Across from her, the musicians played from a mezzanine above the crowded ballroom. The sea of guests began to surge forward to better see her. A familiar thrill raced up her spine, the anticipation of great things to come. She gazed down at the upturned faces and her nerves evaporated. This was where she was her best. She couldn’t wait to meet all the gentlemen, to charm them, to entice them. Beck patted her hand and began to lead her down the stairs. They moved slowly; she felt as if she were floating on a cloud.
She looked around, soaking in the admiring looks, the curious looks, and...
Andno. No!The Duke of Marley washere? But that was clearly him standing all the way in the back. His beard was gone and his hair had been trimmed, but she would know him on a dark road and she certainly knew him here.
