Kathryn Caskie (36 page)

After all, this night’s masquerade had been heralded in every newspaper as the crowning Society event of the year. Of course, Grace and Hawksmoor would attend. Everyone of consequence would be present—including, or so it was rumored, Prinny, the Prince Regent, and Queen Charlotte.

As a precaution, Almack’s doors and windows had all been closed, owing to the Prince’s fear of taking ill from a draft. The heat inside was rapidly becoming unbearable, due to the warmth emitted from those mad enough to dance in the swelter.

Candles sparkled brightly overhead. Vibrant flowers splashed the eye and assailed the nose with heady fragrance, scenting the all-too-still air.

Though their masks had allowed them to slip through the assembly room doors unnoticed, as Aunt Letitia had predicted, Eliza doubted the rest of the evening would pass as smoothly.

It would take a strong heart to stare down Society after the lies that were spread about her only two weeks past, but Eliza vowed to do it. For Grace’s happiness. But for herself, she no longer cared. Her own contentment was already firmly secured. Eliza smiled to herself at the latent realization.

“Eliza, yer aunts,” Magnus said, taking her elbow and turning her to see the Featherton sisters and with them, Grace and Lord Hawksmoor.

“Now we are all here together!” her aunts cheered, clapping their gloved hands together.

“Ladies,” Magnus said, bowing before each aunt in turn. “You both look lovely this eve.”

Wrapped in yards of snowy gossamer sheeting, edged with frothy silver lace, Aunt Viola reached into her golden quiver and withdrew an arrow from her shining bow. She playfully aimed it at him and giggled happily as he flinched for her.

“Let me guess. You are Cupid.”

Aunt Viola laughed. “Of course. And my sister is Aphrodite, the goddess of love.”

Eliza gazed upon Letitia and her filmy lavender Grecian gown with a plunging neckline, cut far too low for a lady of such advanced years. She forced an uneasy smile. “Such … hmm … appropriate costumes. Do you not agree?”

“I do, indeed,” replied Grace, who, like Eliza, donned only a domino as her disguise.

“Grace!” The moment Eliza’s gaze lit upon her sister, tears rushed into her eyes, making her wonder at her all-too-sensitive emotions of late.

Grace rushed forward and kissed her ridiculously wet cheeks. “Oh, I heard all about your wedding. I am so happy for you, Eliza. Or, shall I say Lady Somerton?”

Eliza hugged her sister to her, laughter mingling happily with her tears. “I can scarce believe it myself. Everything occurred so quickly.”

“Funny how that happens, is it not?” Grace said, grinning.

"Wait a moment—” Eliza took Grace by her shoulders and held her at arm’s length while she looked at her sister’s left hand. “Show me!

Grace bounced on her toes, waving her finger bearing a golden ring in the air.

Stepping forward, Lord Hawksmoor took his new wife’s hand into his. “May I present, Lady Hawksmoor,” he said proudly as Grace swept back her leg and offered an exaggerated curtsey.

“Oh, my.” Aunt Viola reached a feeble hand to the back of an armless chair and collapsed into it.

“It’s one of her spells,” Grace cried out.
“Here,
of all places.”

The others rushed to encircle Viola as Aunt Letitia patted her shoulder. “No, it’s not a spell, is it, Sister?”

From her wilted position in the chair, Aunt Viola shook her head. “No, no, no,” she said with a sniff.

“Then, what is it?” Eliza asked softly.

Aunt Viola raised her head and lifted away her hands to reveal two pink-smudged gloved palms. Wet streaks cut pale tracks through the heavy poppy-hued rouge on her cheeks. “This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Oh, Auntie. For us as well,” Eliza replied, as she and Grace hugged Viola and Letitia to them.

Suddenly a great crash of applause shook the air. Startled, Eliza jerked upright. Magnus, already a head above the crowd, rose up to see what had caused the commotion.

“By Jove, ‘tis the Prince Regent and Queen Charlotte. They are moving this way, toward the orchestra.”

“They’re here. Did you hear, Viola?” Aunt Letitia asked.

“Of course I heard!” Aunt Viola scrambled to her feet and snared Eliza by the wrist. “Out of our way, please!” she muttered as both she and Aunt Letitia pushed their way through the crowd, dragging Eliza with them, for a better look.

"You two go ahead. I do not care to—oh, Auntie,
please,”
Eliza protested, helplessly glancing back at an amused Magnus as she was hauled along with them.

As the roar of the crowd quieted, the queen began to acknowledge those lucky enough to line her path on either side.

Despite the looks of protest they garnered, Aunt Letitia and Aunt Viola squeezed their way into two of these prime spots and even managed to shoehorn Eliza between them.

Then, as her aunts’ mission suddenly occurred to her, Eliza felt a plummeting sensation in her stomach.
No. Oh, please no.
“Auntie, you cannot mean for the queen to acknowledge
me
?”

Aunt Viola smiled up at her. “Aren’t you the clever one.”

“You are making a mistake. She won’t do it, I tell you that. Not only did I sneeze in her face, but surely she has heard the horrible rumor about me selling my favors.”

“Hush now, gel. She must, don’t you see, Eliza? Our family must regain her pleasure.”

“Why should her opinion matter?” Eliza asked in a hushed whisper. “Grace and I are already married into good families.”

“True, but young Meredith is not,” Aunt Letitia reminded her quietly. “Can’t have the stain of foul rumors reducing her prospects, now can we?”

“Meredith? Good heavens, she is but a child.”

“Do you not realize she will be of age for presentation in less than two years?” Aunt Letitia whispered in Eliza’s ear. “Though I daresay, it might do to delay her a year or so. Let all the chatter about her antics at school die away, you know.”

“Quiet now. She is nearly here,” Aunt Viola scolded. And she was. Queen Charlotte was about to reach them, when suddenly, Mrs. Peacock, standing in the line opposite them, lurched forward.

The Queen turned her head and looked at her, denying the attention Eliza’s aunts so desired. Aunt Letitia glowered at Mrs. Peacock, who now stood directly before the queen.

Aunt Viola nudged Letitia’s side, then raised the back of her wrist to her forehead. “SPELL …” she cried out, and promptly collapsed to the floor.

With a startled gasp, Queen Charlotte whirled around and stared down at the old woman, as Eliza knelt at her side.

“There, there, Sister,” Aunt Letitia crooned, while Eliza lifted Viola’s head to her lap.

The Prince Regent rushed forth, his bloated face flushed with concern. “Find my doctor!” he ordered a footman, which Eliza thought uncharacteristically kind of him—that is, until he added, “What felled her might be catching.”

” ‘Tis just one of her sleeping spells,” Eliza replied without a thought to whether a direct reply was appropriate. But as she gazed down at her motionless aunt and saw a faint smile stretched across her brightly painted lips, Eliza’s heart skipped a beat. Then another. God above. It was now blatantly clear that she’d lied to the Prince Regent!

“Miss Merriweather?”

A chill shot up Eliza’s backbone. Jupiter! Did the queen just say her name?

“Miss Eliza Merriweather?” the queen repeated.

Aunt Letitia instantly dropped to the floor in a great billow of skirts and took Eliza’s place as Viola’s pillow, allowing her to stand and face Queen Charlotte.

“You are Miss Merriweather, are you not?”

Whisking her domino from her eyes, Eliza bowed her head and dropped a deep curtsey. “Yes, your majesty … I mean
no,”
Eliza stammered. “Oh bother!”

The Prince Regent, quite possibly the widest human being Eliza had ever seen, stepped forward. “Which is it, woman?”

Magnus strode into the breach and spoke, to the gasped horror of the crowd. “Miss Merriweather is now Countess of Somerton, Yer Highness.” He leaned down to Eliza’s ear and whispered. “Ye might want to curtsey again, lass.”

And so Eliza did. Though she wasn’t at all sure her trembling knees hadn’t temporarily given out just then. For without thought, her dip precisely coincided with Magnus’s bow.

The queen drew nearer to Eliza and inspected her. Taking Eliza’s hand, she drew her upright. “I had not expected that one so talented would also be so very young.”

A murmur rolled through the ballroom at the comment. The queen seemed almost to smile at her audience’s reaction.

Talented?
Eliza smiled timidly. Her heart pounded in her ribs and her stomach tied itself into great aching knots.

“Through Mr. Christie, I was fortunate enough to
be favored”
the queen turned her head and lifted a disappointed brow at Lady Cowper and several other of the ton’s gossips, “with seven of your paintings.”

Like an ebb tide, the crowd flowed away, and Eliza was surprised to see a number of high-ranking women bowing their heads in shame.

Eliza raised her gaze to the queen slightly, glancing at her only long enough to discern if she was jesting. But it appeared she was not. “I—I am honored.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Somerton, to have discovered such a talented artist.”

Eliza swallowed the stone in her throat.

“Mr. Christie mentioned there are two other paintings.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Eliza glanced sidelong at Magnus. “They belong to my husband, Lord Somerton.”

"Somerton.” The queen gestured to Magnus. “I want them.”

Magnus bowed most regally. “I must apologize to the Crown, but the paintings are tokens of my wife’s love. As much as I wish to please Yer Majesty, how can I oblige?”

The queen said nothing for several moments, then, turned a knowing smile upon Magnus. “Very well. I understand the bonds of love, all too well, Lord Somerton. Therefore, I shall forgive you. I would not think of taking the landscape, or your portrait.” She leaned close to Eliza. “Oh yes, Lady Somerton. You needn’t seem so surprised that I know of them. Mr. Christie is very thorough.”

“Did you say
portrait?”
Prinny, the bulbous Prince Regent, cut toward Eliza. “Lady Somerton,
I
would sit for a portrait.”

“Of course. I am your servant,” she said, hardly able to believe this was happening.

“Splendid. I shall have my man of affairs contact you.”

With that, Queen Charlotte and the Prince Regent turned for the doors and made their way through the throng, cueing Aunt Viola to cease her charade and get up from the floor.

But Eliza could only stare wide-eyed at Magnus, astonished at his fortitude. “Y-you defied the queen!” she said, still finding it difficult to catch her breath. “I could have replaced the paintings.”

“But ye could not have replaced the memories that went along with them. Besides, what would Queen Charlotte do with a portrait of me?”

“Well, you are quite handsome.” Eliza giggled as she and her husband linked their arms and passed through the crowd, nodding tentatively in response to adoring smiles, as they strolled back to Grace and Lord Hawksmoor.

When they neared, Eliza was stunned to see the Dowager Lady Hawksmoor standing before Grace, the first time the two had been in the same room since Lady Hawksmoor had tried to break Grace and Hawksmoor’s engagement.
Good heavens.
Eliza hurried toward the pair, girding herself to diffuse a particularly nasty confrontation.

But as Eliza descended upon the pair, she was shocked to hear the dowager speaking kindly.

“How lovely for your sister to be honored by the queen and the Prince Regent.”

“It is a great honor for our family to have the Crown publicly recognize my sister for what we have known all along—Eliza is a great artist.”

The Dowager Lady Hawksmoor lowered her head. When she looked up at Grace, her lower lip was shaking. She placed her hand on Grace’s. “After losing my husband, I wanted what was best for my son. I was only thinking of him.” She turned a bit and glanced at Eliza, as if to be sure she heard.

Grace graciously patted her hand. “I understand, Lady Hawksmoor. And Reginald will have the two of us looking out for his welfare now.” Grace matched the dowager’s civil tone.

“Please, call me Mother, now that you have become my daughter.” She leaned forward and kissed Grace’s cheek.

“Thank you, Mother.”

The dowager turned to Eliza offering a hopeful smile.

Eliza reached out and squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Welcome to our family, my lady.”

Looking over the older woman’s shoulder, Eliza met Grace’s gaze.
Thank you,
her sister mouthed.

“I say, where have yer aunts gone?” Magnus asked. “Ye dinna suppose they have it their heads to invite Prinny to tea?”

Eliza and Grace laughed at the utterly ridiculous thought.

But not
too
hard.

Three days later

Eliza settled her paint case and palette into the portmanteau Jenny had packed for her and glanced nervously out the window for Magnus. He should have been back more than two hours ago.

She turned to her aunts. “Well, I believe that is the last of my things. I still cannot believe Magnus and I are truly married, and that in just over a week’s time, we will be living in his cottage on Skye.” She walked across the room and hugged Letitia and Viola and kissed their cheeks. “But Scotland is so very far away. I shall miss you both terribly.”

Aunt Letitia ran her hand along Eliza’s arm. “We shall miss you as well, dear. Sister and I have grown so accustomed to having young people in the house.”

Aunt Viola agreed. “Now, with both you and Grace married, I do not know how we will get along.”

Eliza glanced at Edgar, who kept his eye on Viola from the passageway. She grinned. “I’ve a suspicion you will survive quite well.”

Grace returned to the parlor and handed Eliza two hats. “Do not fret, Eliza. Before our aunts know it, they will have our dear sister Meredith to guide through the season.” Grace grinned then winked at her aunts. “And, believe me,
she
will be even more of a handful than Eliza. Just you wait and see!”