Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

T he Duchess of Brandon was quickly gaining a reputation as a leader of society. This was a bit of a surprise, given her somewhat unusual origins, but once the ton realised that she fully intended to throw the best parties, host the most interesting salons, and serve the best food, they were quick to get over much of their snobbery. This ball was no exception: Though the Season had technically started earlier, the Duchess' ball was generally acknowledged as the true start of the Season. This was in full accordance with the weather, as the Season did not really take hold until the roads were safer to travel.

Eva was not wholly sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what greeted her when she was admitted through the foyer and into the Duke's palatial London home. There were candles everywhere, in golden candlesticks and gleaming chandeliers, shining brightly in seeming defiance of the winter chill. The glow could even be seen from the street, light pouring out the door that was thrown open wide to greet guests, and to give a tantalising glimpse to those poor souls not invited.

Rather than a proper supper, the duchess seemed intent on encouraging conversation and mobility. In nearly every room, there were tables laden with food: Glistening candied fruits, buns and dainties of every description, sugar sculptures, fragrant sliced meats, even a pair of pineapples. Footmen circulated with trays of champagne glasses with little bowls of strawberries and raspberries in the centre so that guests could drop them into their drink. Adding to the ambience was the subtle aroma of evergreen, courtesy of pine needles scattered on the tables and underfoot.

It was almost an assault on the senses of the most pleasurable kind. When Eva entered, it took her several moments to adjust to the sights, smells, and sounds. Everyone seemed in the highest of spirits, and the revelry was well underway by the time that she and Kitty arrived, chaperones naturally by Lady Stanton.

"Did you ever see anything like this?" Eva breathed to Kitty, who shook her head, her own eyes sparkling at the spectacle of it all. They slid out of their evening cloaks dumbly, the maids removing them deftly.

Lady Stanton, however, was not having any of it. "It's bordering on the vulgar," she sniffed. She had not overcome the notion that the new duchess was not a real lady, no matter who her natural parents were. Of course, her prejudice did not extend so far as to reject such a coveted invitation, especially if it meant that she might eat and drink as much as she liked without paying a penny for any of it. She set off after a footman with champagne glasses immediately, clearly forgetting about her duties as a chaperone.

"Look," Kitty hissed, nudging Eva with her elbow. "Isn't that Edmund Kean?" Eva, her own agenda quickly forgotten, swung her head around to ogle the celebrated actor. "Oh, he's so handsome! His eyes are said to hypnotise anyone who speaks with him."

"I can believe it," Eva murmured, observing the gaggle of admirers that had clustered about him.

"Mama was furious that she was turned away from seats at Drury Lane to see him," Kitty giggled. "And now here we are, watching him eat sweetmeats."

The famous Mr. Kean was not the only artist in attendance: Everywhere they turned, they saw notable painters, poets, and dramatists. It was not only celebrated men, either, Eva noticed, spotting Miss Sharples and her mother, her trademark playful smile giving her away.

"Now Kitty," Eva began, noticing that Kitty's eyes were gradually taking on that far-away, glazed look that came over her whenever there were pretty dresses and pretty men on display. "Don't lose sight of our mission tonight. I am relying on you."

"What? Yes, of course, you can rely on me," Kitty said, all distraction as she spied a bevvy of young bucks standing in the corner. Immediately, she had her fan whipped out and was fluttering it demurely in their direction.

Eva sighed, and hooking her arm through Kitty's and began dragging her away in the direction of the ballroom. They made a brief detour to the table lined with dance cards, which they slipped over their wrists. Kitty was already busy trying to establish how many dances she might have spaces for, but Eva kept her head on the swivel, surveying the crowd for a totally different reason. With luck, she would be able to find a spare few moments to speak with Mr. Galpin before?—

"Darling Eva, there you are!" Lady Stanton cried at a volume that caused those in the immediate vicinity to turn and stare. Eva fought the urge to blush, but did allow herself to widen her eyes, hoping that her mother would catch the silent message.

She did not, for she continued in loud, plummy tones, "Look at who I have found! Lady Cluett, our new friend. And look who is with her! Her charming son!" Eva half-expected her mother to flourish her arms like a showman presenting some new spectacle.

"Oh my," Kitty muttered from behind her fan, so low that only Eva could hear her. She clearly had caught sight of the strapping Mr. Cluett, who seemed to be doing his best to make himself as small as possible, especially when eyes were turned on him. Eva subtly dug an elbow into Kitty's side, then turned the full force of her personality on Mr. Cluett, hoping that perhaps he might simply shrink away from the attention.

"How lovely to see you both again," she said, forcing the words out between her teeth as she smiled. "May I present my dearest friend, Miss Kitty Johnson? Kitty dear, this is Lady Cluett, the wife of Viscount Cluett, and their son."

There was a round of bows and curtseys, followed by a strained silence as conversation flowed all about them. Eva, meanwhile, determinedly kept smiling, which she suspected might be bordering on the maniacal. Lady Cluett, too, seemed to be feeling the strain, for she was fanning herself more and more rapidly. Lady Stanton politely coughed behind her hand, and tilted her head in Eva's direction.

Having evidently grown exasperated, Lady Cluett not-too-subtly nudged Mr. Cluett forward. "What charming dance cards," she said, still fanning. "That will make a delightful keepsake for all the young ladies."

"Oh yes," Lady Stanton agreed, nodding her head authoritatively. "I found them to be just so, especially as I entered my married years. Don't you find that dancing is a most amiable way of passing the time?" she asked, turning her attention to Mr. Cluett, who looked vaguely panicked at being noticed.

"Never cared much for dancing, myself," he offered, which almost made Eva smile for real. "Not particularly good at it, either," he added.

Lady Stanton's smile tightened, and Eva got the sense that Lady Cluett was at the point of letting her head drop into her hand. "Well, that's perfect, then," Lady Stanton said, clearly trying desperately to salvage the situation. "Eva has become quite the expert at dancing these last weeks. She's had lessons from the famed Mr. Galpin."

"Mr. Galpin, indeed!" Lady Cluett said, clearly impressed. She turned an assessing eye on Eva, and more subtly, Lady Stanton, as if reconsidering their suitability. "He's quite the talent, I understand."

"So you see, you would make a perfect match…on the dancefloor ," Lady Stanton continued, nodding. Eva, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than to roll her eyes at her mother's obvious manoeuvring. "And you must have two dances," she added hurriedly, "so that you might take full advantage of Eva's expertise."

Mr. Cluett, looking well and truly trapped, looked helplessly to Eva, Kitty, and back to Eva again. "If the first two dances have not been claimed yet, I would be glad to have them, Lady Eva," he said at last, with as much enthusiasm as a man that was about to mend a carriage wheel. "But only if you wish me to."

Eva somehow resisted the urge to sigh heavily. Despite her misgivings, the fact that he had asked for her permission was not lost on her. "I would be honoured, Mr. Cluett," she responded dully, contrasting sharply with her smile that she refused to let budge. Obligingly, she raised her hand so that Mr. Cluett might scribble his name on the first two lines on the card that dangled from her wrist.

The evening was off to a less-than-spectacular start for Eva. She was being forced to dance with a man that looked as apprehensive as she felt at the prospect, and she had yet to lay eyes on Mr. Galpin. More and more of a crowd was pouring into the ballroom, and the musicians who had been picking out a quiet air, struck a couple of sharp notes, calling the assembled to order. Obligingly, they pressed to the outer edges of the dancefloor.

Eva, meanwhile, was craning her neck around, trying her best to spot Josiah. She'd had no luck so far, and it seemed that her time had run out; the duke and duchess, hand in hand, proceeded to the centre of the dancefloor. The first dance was to begin imminently, and there would be no getting out of it, no avoiding it for Eva. She could feel her heart and stomach dropping simultaneously at the realisation. She glanced sidelong up at Mr. Cluett, who gave her a grim smile, commiserating in her evident reticence.

Well, at least I can be sure that we are equally miserable, she groused inwardly as he offered his hand, and she placed hers atop so that he might lead them out to their place on the dancefloor. I suppose that's at least one thing we have in common.

The couples waited, some eager and clinging to each other's arms, as the duchess consulted with the duke. It was up to her to announce the first dance of the evening and to open the ball accordingly. It would set the tone for the rest of the evening, and the audience watched with baited breath. The duke leaned close to the duchess, who spoke smilingly into his ear, and made him laugh. It made Eva's heart squeeze to see such marital bliss before her, especially when contrasted with the prospective husband at her side.

"The Ship's Cook!" the duchess called, and after a surprised moment of silence, the guests obligingly applauded. It was a rousing, almost country dance—an unexpected choice for a duchess, but then, the ton was coming to expect the unexpected from her.

Eva exhaled, then attempted to put on a brave face. She and Mr. Cluett took their places among the assembled, and as she looked across at him, she couldn't help but feel a resigned kind of defeat. Mr. Cluett, bless, attempted a winning smile, but Eva could nearly see the nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The musicians lifted their instruments, ready to begin. Eva attempted to loosen her shoulders, relieving her tense posture. Mentally, she was preparing for the first steps of the dance, which were a sort of sideways galloping with one's partner. Idly, Eva wondered if Mr. Cluett would recover from having to hold her hands and dance, or if he'd take them both down in a great heap after tripping.

Thus, Eva was lost in thought and not paying attention to what was happening about her. She did not know what compelled her to look about the ballroom again, but the moment she did, she beheld Josiah, standing among the crowd thronging around the edges of the dancefloor. He was staring right back at her, gleaming and elegant in his black tails and white weskit. Eva nearly broke into a relieved, eager smile when she saw him, but her heart was falling right back down in the next moment.

Standing beside him, one hand proprietarily on his bent elbow, was Beatrice. She stared at Eva for a moment, and with a cat-like expression of having been at the cream, she placed her other hand on his elbow, possessive and triumphant.