Long laughed. “Those are two separate problems,” he said. “But to start, I would force Westminster to listen to me by presenting him with hard evidence that his business dealings are in danger.”
“How do I do that when he has already put me off twice?” Joseph asked.
“The ball!” Ellen exclaimed, sitting straighter. “You could approach him at the ball. I am certain there will be opportunities to do that there. Gentlemen are forever slipping off during balls to avoid dancing or speaking to the ladies.”
Joseph grinned, but his initial amusement at Ellen’s suggestion turned into serious consideration.
“You know, that is a distinct possibility,” he said. “I could watch for the moment Westminster moves out of company to have a smoke or a drink, and I could follow him and present him with concrete evidence then.”
“You could,” Long said, nodding as though he were considering it. “As I understand it, invitations to that ball were hard to come by.” He glanced to his wife.
“For the hundredth time, darling,” Mrs. Long said, rolling her eyes slightly, “I am not even remotely put out at not receiving an invitation. I am not interested in a society that would turn their back on me when I needed them.”
“They turned their back on you?” Ellen asked in an awed and curious voice.
Mrs. Long smiled at her. “It is a long story.”
Joseph should have let Ellen hear that story, but his mind was turning too fast to take the time to listen.
“We could do it,” he said, thoughts churning in his head. “We could catch Westminster in a private moment at the ball. My very presence there will indicate I am to be taken seriously, and as long as I have the evidence we need to present to him, he will be forced to listen this time.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Long said with a shrug. “I’ll help you condense everything the man needs to know on one sheet that you can hand to him.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joseph said, smiling gratefully across the table at Long.
Finally, things were starting to look up, for him and for everyone. And finally, he had a man, a friend, who saw him as an equal and not someone to be tucked into bed by a nanny at night.
Chapter Fourteen
The day had come. Ellen could barely contain the butterflies in her stomach. She was finally there, allowing Phineas to help her down from the carriage as it drove up to Grosvenor House. They’d waited in a long line of carriages dropping guests off for the ball, and Ellen felt as though she’d waited even longer as she pined for an invitation and acceptance into the upper echelons of London society.
Now, here she was, dressed in a new ball gown, her hair piled high atop her head in the latest fashion, heading up the stairs to the entrance of one of the grandest houses in all of London. All around her, she spotted the cream of society—dukes and marquesses, debutantes who had caught the interest of Queen Victoria at their coming out, and dowagers who had controlled the whims of society from before she was born. The house was decorated lavishly, with electric lights adding to the glow of thousands of lanterns and candles.
It was everything Ellen had dreamed of for so, so long…and it fell flat.
“Is everything alright, Elle?” Lenore asked as she, Ellen, and Phineas joined the queue waiting to enter the house and proceed on to the grand ballroom. “You look a bit piqued.”
“No, no, everything is fine,” Ellen lied. “Everything is precisely how it should be for the greatest social event of the autumn.”
Everything was fine, except that, if she were honest, she didn’t like her ballgown one bit. It was constricting, and the collar was too high. The sleeves felt too long as well. Even though it was modest in design and cut, it cinched her waist a bit too much, leaving her perpetually breathless. And instead of choosing a gown of the vibrant blue that she wanted, she’d selected a pale yellow that made her skin a bit too sallow. But she’d overheard one of the ladies at the fashion show say that yellow would be the popular color of the season, so there she was, wearing yellow.
But it was just a gown, so she would soldier on and enjoy herself all the same. She smiled as the line waiting to be greeted and announced moved forward, meeting the eyes of as many of the ladies of society as she could while she, Lenore, and Phineas inched slowly forward. Few of the ladies did more than smile politely and nod at her.
What was she doing wrong? She simply could not fathom it. She was dressed and groomed as she should be, and she’d made a list of topics she would stay away from so that she did not put her foot in her mouth. She wished Joseph were there to guide her, or at least to claim her as his own…even though she was still a bit sore with him.
Joseph had behaved abominably at the fashion parade. At first. He’d been peevish and callous. But then she’d understood why once they had moved on to the pub and he had spoken with Mr. Long. Joseph was struggling as much as she was. But he could have been a bit sweeter to her, since he knew she was distressed as well.
“Elle, dear, you might want to consider donning a different expression to go with your gown and jewels,” Lenore whispered to her as they approached the ballroom.
“Hmm? Oh.” Ellen caught sight of herself in one of the many mirrors in the hall, realizing she wore a disgruntled frown.
She studied her reflection and forced herself into a smile. It was a pitiful one. She would have to think of something that would actually make her smile.
Like the conversation that had taken place at the pub after Joseph and Mr. Long had formulated their plan for Joseph to speak to Westminster at the ball. Ellen still wasn’t entirely pleased that Joseph seemed more interested in his vendetta against Montrose than in her, but again, she understood it.
The conversation after that business was sorted had been delightful, though. Mr. Long was an absolute hoot. He would have fit right in at the saloon in Haskell. Her father would have adored Mr. Long, and likely the two of them would have spent hours swapping stories and growing increasingly loud and boisterous, perhaps to the point where Sam Standish would have thrown them out of the saloon, even though her father owned the establishment.
She’d liked Mrs. Long as well. Very much so. Ellen was certain there was more to the woman’s story, since all she’d learned was that Phoebe had been born as a lady, but had fallen in the eyes of society when her father’s wickedness had been revealed. Not unlike Joseph’s family had fallen, come to think of it. The circumstances of Phoebe Long’s early life and the way she, too, had been snubbed by society didn’t seem half as important to Ellen as the woman’s easy manner and good humor now—not to mention her patience with her outlandish husband.