"That, my dear, is the luxury of being a lady. You're perfectly safe with me, and you know it. So long as I exercise some control, you've no need to."
"Someday, I'm sure, I'll want to thank you for that. At the moment, however, my views on the subject are rather conflicted."
I was more excited than I had expected to be about Lady Elinor's ball. It had been too long since I had danced, and I felt no small measure of irritation at the thought of holier-than-thou society matrons keeping me from their guest lists and, in turn, from waltzing. The entrance hall to the Routledges' house was filled with enormous masses of flowers, providing a perfect backdrop for the legions of ladies in their stylish gowns and brightening the patches of black where gentlemen congregated in their elegant black jackets and white ties.
Isabelle was less miserable than I would have guessed. She stood next to her fiancé on the stairway that led to the ballroom, a charming smile on her face, but there was no brightness in her eyes as she welcomed her guests. Although Mr. Berry deliberately took as little notice of me as possible, I could feel his eyes linger unpleasantly on me after I had passed him, and I shuddered at the thought of his attention. I hurried away from him, eager to find a friendly face at the party; instead, my mother headed me off the instant I entered the room.
"You must behave yourself," she whispered with such force that it was clear she had every intention of being overheard. "Otherwise there's no chance that you will be able to reclaim your place in decent society."
It was unfair of her to accost me in public, where she knew I could not respond to her as I wished. "There's no need to worry, Mother. I'm always perfectly appropriate."
"You are not to speak to Bainbridge tonight unless you plan to marry him. I won't let you ruin yourself with flirting."
"I'll thank you to stop telling me what to do."
She looked at me with such satisfaction that it was obvious this performance was for her own benefit. She wanted to make sure that society knew that she was doing all she could to control me, so that, should I be ruined, she would have their sympathy rather than their censure.
"I'll not stand by and watch you drag the reputation of our family through the gutter, Emily." She may have objected to watching that, but she certainly did not object to watching me, closely, for the entire evening. The only time I was able to escape her was when I danced. Happily, although the ladies of society seemed bent on cutting me, the gentlemen did not share their scruples, and I had no shortage of partners. But other than my mother, Lady Elinor, Isabelle, and dear Ivy were the only ladies who spoke to me.
I did, at last, get to waltz with Colin. Feeling his arm at my waist was more intoxicating than our hostess's champagne, and he guided me across the floor with expert grace.
"Holding you like this makes me realize how wise I was to avoid dancing with you in private," he said. "It could have led to nothing good. You're lovelier than ever tonight." I had spent a small fortune on my gown, cut from silk of the palest shade of rose, embroidered with silver thread and crystal beads. The neckline was daringly low, and the sleeves puffed subtly at the shoulder, tapering to fit tightly at the elbow. Mr. Worth himself had beamed with pleasure when he saw me in it at my final fitting.
When the music ended, Colin handed me off to my next partner, Jeremy, whom I had accepted as much to irritate my mother as I had because I wanted to dance with him. He and Colin nodded sharply at one another but said very little. It did not occur to me at the time that one might be jealous of the other. Almost before the dance had ended, my mother was stalking us on the edge of the crowd.
"Your Grace, it is a pleasure, as always, to see you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Bromley."
"I do hope Emily is being kind to you."
Jeremy flashed a smile but did not reply. My father, who had early in the evening abandoned my mother to talk politics with a group of his friends, returned to collect her, and not a moment too soon. Given more time, she would have brokered a marriage contract between the two of us right there on the dance floor. I was about to seek out a glass of champagne when Lord Fortescue appeared in front of me.
"I think we ought to dance, Lady Ashton."
"If you insist, Lord Fortescue," I said, hating the feel of his arm on mine. He was not a bad partner; that much I will give him. But his manner was in every other way deplorable.
"You'd do well with Bainbridge," he said, leading me across the floor. "You're both in dire need of settling down. I know you've had your eye on Hargreaves, but he's not a good match for you."
"I'm sure it's none of your concern," I said, doing my best to keep a smile on my face.
"It's very much my concern, as it is the concern of anyone with a sense of loyalty to the empire."
"Really? I'm all astonishment."
"Do not play ignorant with me. Hargreaves's work for the Crown is invaluable. You've proven to be nothing but a distraction to him."
"His work has suffered on my account? Not only do I find that unbelievable, but it's also insulting to Mr. Hargreaves. He would never allow personal concerns to interfere with his work. How dare you suggest such a thing?"
"I know your type, Lady Ashton. Always wanting to be involved, meddling where you should not. If you care for him, leave him alone. He does not deserve the trouble you are certain to heap upon him."
Clearly, my only options were to ignore my partner entirely or to engage him in a discussion of the weather. I chose the former. When the music stopped, we stood next to Robert and a woman whom I did not recognize. Her age fell somewhere between mine and that of my mother, and she was dressed in an extremely expensive, though ostentatious, gown.
"Have you met Mrs. Reynold-Plympton?" Robert asked. I shook my head, and the introduction was made. I was about to ask her how long she'd been in London when the music began again, and she turned to my friend's husband.
"Shall we dance again? I can't remember when I've had such a pleasant partner." Robert mumbled something unintelligible and led her back to the floor, leaving me stranded with Lord Fortescue.
"Will you excuse me?" I asked before he had the chance to claim another dance. As I made my way across the room, a servant approached me.
"Lady Ashton, a gentleman asked that I give this to you." He handed me a large ivory envelope.
"Lord Fortescue?"
"I don't believe it was he, madam."
I looked around the room, searching for Colin, but did not see him. Ivy was not far from me, and I pulled her into the garden, wanting someone with me when I opened the parcel. She was appropriately horrified when I told her what had been going on.
"Oh dear," she said. "Perhaps I should get Robert."
"We can open an envelope without him, Ivy." I pulled a pin out of my hair, which was piled high on my head in a simple pompadour, and carefully slit the paper.
"Who left it for you? Is he still here?" She looked around, then relaxed as much as her corset would allow, apparently satisfied that there was no one stalking us in the garden.
"Highly unlikely." Within the envelope was a note wrapped around another letter. I can help more than you know, Kallista darling was scrawled in now-familiar handwriting. Inside this was a letter, folded, with the remains of a wax seal on the back. Excitement filled me; the letter was addressed to Marie Antoinette. Careful not to harm the fragile paper, I unfolded the page, eager to see who had written the letter. "It's from Léonard." He gave a terse description of his daily activities, referred briefly to some of the queen's acquaintances, and closed with an account of an altercation he'd had with a merchant in a butcher's shop. He wished the queen well, said he was praying for her soul, and promised to write again soon.