Chapter 16

The night of the Countess of Grayling's ball arrived with all the expected pomp and ceremony as carriages lined up along the avenue that ran across the front of Kensington Palace. Guests were greeted by footmen with gossamer wings, dressed in vividly colored livery: purples, reds, pinks, greens. Their faces had been painted with elaborate patterns to match the colors of their attire as if they had come from a fairy realm and the gates of Kensington Palace was the mystical entrance to their world, open for one night only.

"Who is this lady?" Sarah gawped as the Bolton carriage halted, and a footman in purple livery helped the two ladies down. Ezra had refused to attend, still sour from the unexpected visit from Leah's friends.

Leah beamed from ear to ear. "The most wondrous lady in all of England. Goodness, how I long to be her."

"Do not say that," Sarah chided lightly as the footman checked their invitations and guided them through the gates of Kensington Palace, adorned with twinkling paper lanterns and through to the palace gardens beyond. "The Countess is clearly in want of a husband, or she shall soon run out of money to host such… extravagant events. A lady cannot manage finances."

Leah rolled her eyes. "If she can persuade the Royal Court to grant her a title, I am certain she is capable of managing finances. Indeed, she is likely richer than most of the gentlemen here. I would not be at all surprised if she has a thousand business endeavors feeding her income, for if she can arrange something like this and convince the Royal Court to allow her the palace grounds for the evening, she can manage business ventures."

"Hmm… I had not thought of that," Sarah said, pensive. "Oh my goodness! This is… I have no words! I have never seen anything so… so…" She trailed off, wide-eyed as the majesty of the transformed gardens came fully into view.

It truly was a fairy realm with avenues of stalls and stands lined up around the centerpiece of Round Pond where candles floated across the glittering water on flowery wreaths. There must have been thousands of them, lighting up the large pond and dotted throughout the water were islands of rock where men and women perched with gleaming fishtails. Mermaids and mermen in real life. And as there were rowboats docked along the edges of the pond, Leah suspected there might be the opportunity to row past those merfolk.

In the distance, it seemed the carnival stretched ever onward, all the way up to the stretch of the Serpentine known as "The Long Water." Horse riders charged around a ring that had been erected, perform death-defying tricks as they turned somersaults and balanced on the saddles with nothing but their hands. Away to the east, Leah saw colorful roundabouts and ups-and-downs and carousels, alongside swings shaped like boats that could carry four people at once.

Elsewhere, various bands of musicians played, accompanying the antics of tumblers and contortionists and knife-throwers and sword-swallowers and fire-eaters and oddities of all kinds, including a dancing dog in fairy wings who howled along to the music. There were puppet shows and theatricals taking place all across the gardens, providing entertainment for all tastes, while there did not seem to be any formal dining but merely an array of sellers who were offering their wares for free. Everything must have been paid for already.

"Darling, I think I might faint," Sarah whispered, her eyes so wide that Leah feared they might fall out of her head.

But just as she was about to answer, Leah's gaze fixed upon a vision in phoenix red with giant feathery wings to complete the image. She wore a golden circlet around her head, her long, copper hair shining in the light of a thousand torches and candles, her beautiful face ethereal. A fairy queen, by anyone's standards, deep in conversation with Nathaniel.

"I think I might too," Leah whispered back, for the lady in red was none other than the Countess of Grayling, the heroine of the Spinsters' Club.

Nathaniel halted mid-sentence as he caught sight of Leah walking toward him, pulling her mother along. He had known the lavender gown was beautiful, but he could not have anticipated just how beautiful it would look upon Leah. She looked as if she belonged in the fairy realm that the Countess had created, even without a pair of shining wings.

"Leah…" was all he could say, as she neared.

The Countess chuckled softly. "You must be the young lady that my dear friend cannot cease talking about." She offered her hand to Leah, who just stared at the slender fingers as if she had never seen a hand before. "You are Lady Leah, are you not?"

Leah blinked, snapping out of her trance. "Uh… me? Y-Yes, I am. It is… it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. You are… you are… famous amongst my friends. We… adore you!" she blurted out, her cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink.

The Countess gently took Leah's hand and held it. "No, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." She glanced at Nathaniel. "You did not say she was the most beautiful creature in all of England. Goodness, we ought to turn this spectacle into a wedding at once."

"A wedding?" Sarah squeaked, equally in awe of the woman before her.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel tried not to stare in horror at his friend's jest. He had informed the Countess that Leah was just an acquaintance, a friend, so why would she say a thing like that? He had been very firm in that regard. Too firm, perhaps.

The Countess laughed. "I am teasing though I do hope I shall be invited when the day comes. I promise, I do not always wear such ostentatious gowns." She continued to hold Leah's hand, ignoring Nathaniel's stare. "My friend Nathaniel tells me that you are one of the famed Spinsters' Club that I have heard so much about?"

"Um… yes, my lady," Leah replied.

"I shall have to invite you all to my manor one day, so I can meet the ladies that are causing such a stir in society. I, myself, like to cause chaos now and again," the Countess said, smiling fondly at Leah. "But you must not forget something vitally important."

Leah tilted her head to one side. "What is that, my lady?"

"If you ever find a good man, a truly good man, you should not let him go out of stubbornness," she explained. "I have been plagued with a lifetime of bad gentlemen of every kind, and so I know without doubt that I shall be happier alone for the rest of my days, but if you are blessed with a gentleman of good heart, good character, and good soul, keep him. Adore him. Be adored by him. And be outrageously happy forevermore."

Leah's gaze flitted to Nathaniel, and his heart leaped into his throat. Her enchanting, melancholy eyes brimmed with something like hope, their sparkle popping bubbles inside his chest, making his skin tingle. Of course, he knew that the Countess was not talking about him; she knew of his secret identity as a champion boxer, she knew of his long-suffering history, and she knew that he was not the sort of gentleman that any woman should be saddled with, for in his veins lurked the darkness of a cruel man, and only boxing kept him at bay. He was certain of it, for his father had always told him that they were exactly alike.

And Leah does not think the Countess is talking about me either, he told himself, feeling the bubbles in his chest dissipate as he forced his mind to remember that it was all for show. Their coy looks, their shy smiles—they were all part of their own theatrical.

"Now, I must tend to the rest of this beautiful horde," the Countess announced, letting go of Leah's hand. "It was my honor to meet you, Lady Leah, and I do mean what I said about inviting you and your sisterhood to my residence. Expect an invitation."

With an elegant curtsy, the Countess sauntered off into the throngs, welcoming all those who had come to bask in her generosity and infamy. She would be hounded by gentlemen all evening, eager to try and make a wife out of her, but nothing could persuade her into matrimony, ever again. In that, Nathaniel guessed that she and Leah were aligned.

"Oh my goodness," Leah gasped as though she had been holding her breath throughout that entire encounter. "She is… everything I had hoped. I must tell my friends. I must… Fiddlesticks! They are not here."

Nathaniel laughed. "It is a delight to see you, too."

"Oh, and she is delighted to see you," Sarah cut in, her tone panicked. "Of course, you are, are you not, darling? Tell His Grace how delighted you are to see him again."

Leah gave her mother a strange look. "Apologies, Nathaniel. I am still reeling. I shall recover and find my propriety again in a moment, once my heart has ceased racing."

"You are not well acquainted with the Countess, are you?" Sarah turned her worried eyes on Nathaniel. "You seemed very familiar."

Nathaniel understood the concern. "She is an acquaintance from long ago when her father's summer residence bordered ours. The sister I never had."

And a devout follower of boxing… he neglected to add, for he did not wish to add that to the list of things that society disapproved of the Countess. Nor did he want to explain how that had reunited the old friends, one evening at a boxing match in Limehouse where she had been attired as a man, and he had just won his last fight of the night.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "I was just telling my daughter that it is a pity the Countess is not married, for she shall soon fritter away her fortune if she holds lavish events like this with no husband to fund it."

"The Countess is adept in the art of business, Lady Druidstone," Nathaniel told her. "Why, I do believe the Crown has funded most of this to improve public opinion."

"I told you!" Leah cried, evidently thrilled.

Sarah winced. "Forgive my daughter, Your Grace. She is not usually so loud."

"I do not mind her loudness," Nathaniel replied, offering his arm to Leah. "I relish it, in truth, for when we first met, she was much too quiet. I knew there was a livelier spirit within her, and I am grateful to have been granted an audience with that side of her."

Sarah seemed utterly bemused. "Is there a dance floor somewhere? I think you should dance. My daughter is such an elegant dancer, and it would cheer my heart to see it once more."

"Mama," Leah hissed under her breath, clearly embarrassed by her mother's interjections, but Nathaniel found them endearing, just as he found the pink of Leah's cheeks completely breathtaking. In the weeks he had known her, he had never seen her look more beautiful—her eyes shining, her demeanor excited, her entire being so full of life and vitality that he would have danced all night with her if society would not have scorned her for it. And if it would not have muddied the waters of their arrangement.

"It would be a pity to waste that gown, for it makes you look angelic," Nathaniel said, reminding himself that he was only complimenting her as an increasingly dear friend. "I believe there is a dance floor beside the Long Water. Might I dance the next set or two with you if your card is not already overflowing?"

Leah smiled, and opened her mouth to reply, but Sarah jumped in first, "She has no names upon her card, Your Grace. It would be improper if she did, considering the two of you are courting. Certainly, she will dance the next two sets with you."

"Which I would have said if you had allowed me to speak," Leah muttered, sighing.

"And thank you ever-so kindly for your generous gift," Sarah continued to Leah's obvious dismay. "It does become her well, does it not? I am only sorry about that awful business with the brooch. Nevertheless, she looks beautiful. You have excellent taste, Your Grace."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Which I also would have said. Mama, what is the matter with you this evening?"

"Nothing," Sarah protested. "I just want to ensure that… that you have a lovely evening, and everyone remembers their manners."

You want to ensure that I do not lose interest as Jonathan did, Nathaniel guessed, pitying the poor woman, for it appeared that Sarah knew the truth of that failed wedding day in a way that Leah's father did not. Though Nathaniel himself did not know all of the details, he had pieced enough together to understand who was at fault, and it was not the exquisite young lady standing beside him, holding onto his arm.

"Shall we?" Nathaniel asked, tilting his head toward the dance floor in the distance.

Leah smiled up at him. "We shall."

A short while later, they stood opposite one another on the dance floor that had been created for the event with a large complement of fellow couples. Nathaniel could feel the stares coming from every direction, but Leah gazed only at him, her attention fixed as if he were the only person there. He could not have looked away even if he had wanted to. There was an angel in front of him, and it was unwise to turn away in the face of something heavenly.

A full orchestra struck up a lively tune as the lead dancers called for a country dance. Other guests had come to watch, joyful faces flashing by as Nathaniel turned in a circle while Leah did the same, echoing one another. But it was the part where they stepped closer to each other, pressing palm upon palm, that he was looking forward to.

"Do you truly like the gown, or are you being polite?" he asked, his hand finding hers, joining them as they turned a circle together.

She chuckled. "I adore it, I really do, but there was no reason for you to buy me such a lavish gift, nor for you to go to the trouble of giving me that brooch, however temporarily." Her eyes met his shyly. "After all, this is just a ruse."

How could seven small words feel like a punch to the gut? Or, rather, like seven fearsome blows from his stomach to his chest, the bruise of each one pulsing in his veins, making him sore. Yet, what right did he have to feel pained by what was, in essence, the truth? He could not understand it. She had said nothing untoward, she had said nothing false, so why on Earth did he feel… disappointed? Clearly, it was the effort of maintaining their ruse, addling his mind temporarily. That was the only reason he was willing to consider.

"Can a dear friend not give another dear friend a gift?" he replied, his tone colder than he had intended.

Leah flinched, the gleam in her eyes dimming for a moment. "Of course. I merely meant to not expect me to return the favor. I have barely enough pin money to buy a new ribbon, much less one of your gaudy tailcoats."

"Gaudy?" He snorted. "What would you have me wear instead? Something drab and dreary?"

She looked away from him. "That is not what I meant, either."

"It moves perfectly when you dance," Nathaniel said, eager to see her smile again. He had allowed some pettiness to slip from his lips and needed to claw it back, for he had not meant to be curt with her, either.

I will not be him, he told himself, feeling dark sparks of his father's shadow. It was like the beginning of a fever where something felt wrong within him, but no further symptoms had revealed themselves yet.

Leah mustered a smile, but her vigor had diminished. "I am terrified of tripping by accident. The seamstress could not raise the hem in time."

"Then, of course, you would be at risk of flashing an ankle," he teased, cursing himself for responding so churlishly when his tailcoats were gaudy at times.

She chuckled. "Goodness, I would be cast out of society altogether." She paused. "Did you see the mermaids on the pond? Would it be possible for us to take one of the boats to see them more closely?"

"Whatever your heart desires tonight, I shall make it so," he told her, his gaze flitting down to her lips against his will. He quickly snapped his gaze back up again, feeling suddenly disoriented as if the dance floor was spinning instead of him.

I am tired; that is all…he insisted to himself.

Leah's lips parted as if to say something, but they closed again without a word, the dance drawing them apart for a short while as they joined arms with their neighbors and skipped around thrice.

As they came back together, she appeared to have rallied. "I think I shall walk awhile with my mother, so she gets her fill of the carnival. Then, perhaps, we might reconvene and have a walk of our own?"

"I should like that," he replied at the same moment that something on the periphery of the dance floor caught his eye. A face that should not have been there, who beckoned to Nathaniel in a way that demanded attention.