“All right, darling?” he asked as they stood at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, yes. What a sight this is, and how happy Felicity and her husband seem.” She pointed to a cluster of guests in the center, surrounding the smiling guests of honor.
“Lady Townsend, you’re practically shining,” said a husky voice to her right. It was Edward’s friend Marlow. He bowed over her hand, his long, pale blond hair the neatest and most composed she’d ever seen it. “May I add my name to your dance card? Please say yes.”
“Of course, Lord Marlow.” How things had changed since she’d married. The old Jane had dreaded having no attention from gentlemen. Now she’d been here barely five minutes, and someone already wanted to dance with her.
“Just make sure you behave yourself, George,” warned Edward.
Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh, is your given name George? I never knew that.”
Lord Marlow grinned and winked at her. “Like St. George and the Dragon, my lady.”
“Are you a paragon of chivalry then, like your namesake?”
“Hmm.” His light blue eyes glinted with mischief. “Well, I try to be.”
“Don’t believe him, Jane.” He took her hand back from his friend. “He doesn’t try very hard.”
Marlow laughed and told her he would seek her out later. They moved down the stairs to greet Felicity and Carlo, who were no longer the “royal couple” to Jane, but beloved family. Music played, people laughed and talked. After a couple hours they took a break for a lavish celebratory dinner with official state speeches and toasts to Prince Carlo and Princess Felicity. Then the dancing began in earnest.
Lord Marlow claimed his dance for the opening, then Lord Wescott asked for a dance as well. By the time they finished, another gentleman requested a dance, and Jane was glad she’d had waltzing lessons, for the merriment was endless. After several dances in a row, she needed a moment to rest, and some space to recover from the ball’s great crush. She followed a group of guests onto the large rear balcony and walked along the columned balustrade until she found a quiet corner overlooking the gardens. The clearings below were lit with flaming torches and the trees illuminated with fairylike hanging lanterns, but the balcony was dark, a perfect place to catch one’s breath.
How happy she was for Felicity and Carlo, and for her dear mama-in-law, whose ball would surely go down as the greatest success of the year no matter how early in the Season it was. A group of nearby ladies chatted excitedly and Jane didn’t make herself known to them, content instead to listen to their impressions of the evening so far.
“What a grand spectacle,” said one of them, a tall girl with rich auburn hair, a color so much more elegant than her copper-orange tresses. “And such eager gentlemen wishing to dance. Is there any one of us who hasn’t been hounded by Lord Marlow?”
“He danced with me twice, not that I minded,” said the lady to her left.
“Well, I minded,” said another lady, practically fluttering. “He trod upon my toes three times.”
“It was Lord Wescott who trod my toes,” said a fourth woman. “But only once. He didn’t even apologize.”
“I suppose they’ve had too much to drink. That lot are not usually clumsy when it comes to women, if you know what I mean.”
Jane blinked as the gossiping women giggled. She did not know what she meant by her comment.
“Well, we shall hide out here for a while,” the first woman continued, smoothing a hand through her auburn hair. “It truly is such a success, our toes notwithstanding. I wouldn’t be surprised if the king himself shows up after midnight.”
“Perhaps he’s arriving right now,” said her fluttery friend.
“Good luck to His Majesty, finding space to dance among all these couples. There’s barely room to waltz,” said another friend.
“The crowd would give way for him,” said the auburn woman, with a jaded air of knowing. “Speaking of waltzing, did you see Lord Augustine dance with the princess?”
“All of us saw.” The fluttery girl waved her fan. “No lady shall have a chance to win his heart while he pines so pitifully for the former Lady Felicity. When will he get over her? He’ll find himself thrown in an Italian prison if he does not take care.”
“Prince Carlo watched them dance, did you see? He scowled like a hawk,” said another woman.
Jane frowned, for none of that was true. She’d seen Lord August and Felicity waltz together when the dancing first started, and they’d been perfectly genial to one another. The prince, far from scowling, had been dancing with Edward’s mother at that time. She thought she ought to speak up and correct the gossiping ladies, but she’d promised herself she would not make a cake of herself at this ball and draw undue attention, so she leaned back into the shadows and bit her lip to still her tongue.