by Fanny Finch
Agnes realized that they were two parts of the same puzzle. She knew the theory behind it all, the social norms, the demands of high society, the checklist of all the things one needed to arrange. And he knew how it ought to feel, how people enjoyed themselves, what were the highs and lows of every event.
Between the two of them, the preparations began to take shape, and by the day of the ball, Agnes felt they had quite the grand event planned. The guests would be impressed by the duke's debut party, no doubt.
It was perfectly orchestrated.
The doors would open at five o'clock sharp, when the older guests would arrive nice and early for tea and to talk by the fireplace. Then, around seven, the hall would open and small bites and pastries would be offered, alongside punch, as a pianist played music for the younger people to dance to.
The younger guests would probably arrive fashionably late, around eight to eight-thirty, at which point the older guests would cease dancing and retire to the chairs at the sides of the room where they would watch the goings-on.
The duke would oversee it all, moving from social group to social group, talking with everyone and defusing any tense situations or arguments. He knew how to separate an amorous young man from a disinterested lady, how to ensure that older people did not feel neglected, or younger ones bored, and how to keep food and drinks flowing at an appropriate pace.
It was Agnes's duty to oversee the rest, directing servants, looking out for potential trouble, and generally being the duke's eyes whenever he could not personally be present.
The vast, nearly empty hall, decorated beautifully with seating around the edges, looked almost ominous.
"You must stay with me during the ball," the duke said, squeezing her hand again, looking across the hall.
"You are a duke. I am simply a governess. It is wholly inappropriate," Agnes replied, sighing as quietly as she could manage. "Besides, you asked me to assist by watching the goings-on when you cannot be present yourself. Your Grace knows full well I cannot be in two places at once."
"But what if I make a fool of myself? Or get stuck and need you?" he asked.
Agnes sighed again. "Sir, I shall make sure to watch where you are at all times and if you ever look like you are having trouble, I shall approach you."
"That is an excellent idea," he agreed. "But you must help me, or I shall make a fool of myself, Agnes. So do not leave me out of your sight. For if I were to make a grave error, I am not sure I could rescue myself."
"Your Grace is more than capable," Agnes replied. "Simply say that you must find someone, or you thought you saw a friend, and come and look for me."
"I am nervous, Agnes," he said, all but ignoring her. "I am not sure I can do this. It is too much for me to handle. I am-"
"You are a capable, sociable young man and you shall impress everyone," she interrupted him.
He beamed. "Thank you, Agnes."
"And Your Grace must not call me Agnes, not in front of the guests," she explained. "They will either then realize that I am a servant, at which point they will wonder how come a duke is so close to his governess, or they shall assume I am a noble lady and that we have some sort of inappropriate relationship. Either way, it would bring shame to the household."
He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow a little. "It feels so odd to think of you as Miss Hubbard, having known you as Agnes for too long."
"I understand, sir, and in private you may call me what you wish, but in public, there are social conventions to uphold," Agnes insisted.
"I sometimes forget that you are no longer the daughter of an earl," he admitted, blushing. "I never even asked you if you mind me calling you by your first name. I simply did, and assumed you would have said if it upset you. But you cannot say such things, can you?"
Agnes shook her head. "Sir can call me whatever he wants, it is no trouble to me at all. It is not as though I have a reputation of my own to uphold anymore."
He took her hand once again and caressed it. "Speaking honestly, do you think the ball will be a success?"
She smiled and squeezed his hand back. "Your Grace shall do very well. I am sure the ball shall be a success."
Looking into his eyes, she could feel her heart soar. Once again, she found her eyes drawn to his lips, and the little devil in the back of her mind told her to lean in and kiss him.
Fortunately, she did not even have to worry about that urge. The door flew open, and Georgia, dressed in a lovely little blue party dress, rushed into the room, humming some haphazard tune to herself and pretending to dance. For a second she carried on, giving the duke just enough time to release Agnes's hand. Then, spying her brother, she stopped dancing and grinned.
"I want to go the ball!" Georgia exclaimed, flying into her brother's arms, dress billowing.
The duke chuckled. "Of course, Georgia," he replied. "And you look so lovely as well. But the ball will run very late tonight. And if you want to stay up late, perhaps you ought to have a nap now."
Agnes looked at the clock. It was five, time for the girl to go to bed and the first guests to arrive. She could plainly see what the duke was doing. They took the child upstairs, and she was already falling asleep in her brother's arms before they reached the top of the staircase. She was dozing lightly as they entered her room.
As they placed the dozing child in her cot, Agnes considered staying to watch over her. The night would get busy, and loud. Perhaps the child would need company. She could wake up, after all, and become distressed when she realized the ball was going on without her.
"I shall stay a short while," Agnes whispered. "Simply to ensure that she stays asleep, sir, and then I shall join you."
"And what must I do?" he asked.
"Welcome the guests and ensure everyone receives refreshments. As soon as the music begins I shall make sure Georgia is not awake, then head downstairs to assist you," she explained.
The duke seemed reluctant, but as they heard the first carriage pulling up the driveway, he made his way out of the room, softly closing the door behind.
Chapter 29
For a short while, Agnes contemplated not going to the ball. After all, it would be a lot of noise, a lot of trouble, and for what? So she could regret all the balls she had not gone to in her youth? It felt like a wasted evening.
But Georgia was sleeping soundly, and she had promised the duke she would support him. So, reluctantly, Agnes made her way downstairs and peered into the parlor, where the early arrivals were finishing their tea. She looked around to see where the duke was.
She was glad she had not remained with Georgia as soon as she saw the duke at the main table, drinking. Now, she knew it was not a true faux pas for the host to drink. It was not recommended, but too many noble people did it to actually forbid it. But considering how nervous the duke had been, the fact he was drinking at all worried her.
Agnes watched cautiously from the sidelines as the duke conversed animatedly with some of his guests. They did not seem uncomfortable, which was good. But the duke seemed to have made a remarkable recovery from his earlier nervousness. What was more, his face was flushed, and he seemed a little distracted.
Although she had never been to a party herself, Agnes knew the signs of inebriation. One did not need to attend balls and galas to see men drinking beyond their tolerance. It was a common enough problem. From her carriage window, she had seen men on the streets after drinking too much. She had seen her father after he had one last glass of wine before bed. She had seen guests of her father's being escorted out for being unruly. She knew what to look out for.
And the duke, although not drunk, was certainly a little tipsy. He was flushed, talking loudly, using his hands too much. The guests had not yet noticed, but that did not mean they wouldn't eventually. This worried Agnes. He needed to be sober and focused to attend to the ball properly. But it was not too late to help him.
As he walked through into the hall with Baron Fitzroy and a younger gentleman whom Agnes did
not recognize, she followed them, ready to make a distraction. She could not just sweep in and take him away, after all.
As the men paused near a small gathering of young ladies, Agnes noticed the baron's shiny cufflinks and got an idea. She crept up closely behind him and swiftly removed one of the cufflinks. Then she retreated a little and waited.
The baron, a notoriously vain man, quickly noticed that he was missing a cufflink and let out a cry of alarm.
All of a sudden, all eyes were on the baron, who was fumbling to find and pick up his cufflink off the floor. He was making quite a scene of himself, which was exactly what she wanted. Agnes moved through the crowd and rested a hand on the duke's arm gently. He looked over his shoulder and seemed confused at her.
Even better that there was a distraction. It seemed that the duke had not considered his present situation and was determined to remain and watch the fuss. Agnes tugged on his sleeve hard, glaring at him slightly. He began to take the hint. She shook her head as he tried to turn back to the crowd. At least he was sober enough to pay attention to her that time. The baron let out another shout of frustration, unable to locate his cufflink.
She seized the opportunity that the sudden diversion offered, and subtly guided the duke out the room. Although he followed, he seemed frustrated and angry the entire time, resisting and protesting under his breath as he was led out into the hall and around a corner, where they could speak in private.
"What is the matter?" the duke asked. His voice was not slurred, but it had a certain lethargy to it that Agnes knew would give him away sooner or later. "Why are we out here?"
She took his hand again and guided him towards the kitchen. Outside the door was a trolley full of assorted items for the ball. "Your Grace needs to become a little more... not inebriated," Agnes said with a sigh, passing him a pitcher of ice-cold water. "Drink this, Your Grace. And have something to eat."
She inspected the tray and selected a couple of pastries for him. He drank some cold water, and ate the pastries and just from the shock of the ice seemed to be a little more himself.
Agnes sighed. "Thank goodness, you are already looking much better, sir," she said with a smile.
"I am fine," the duke replied with a grin. "I am sure that I shall have no trouble at all."
"So long as you don't have anything else to drink, sir," Agnes replied.
"Are you saying I cannot drink at my own ball? I always drank at my parents' parties," he said with a slight, accusatory narrowing of the eyes.
Agnes was not sure how to reply to this. It was most unlike the duke, but, then again, was anyone truly themselves when they had been drinking? She shook her head, wondering what was the best response, how to explain herself.
"Sir," she began. "I don't mean to say you cannot drink at your own parties, only that you cannot drink any more. I do not believe that you ever had much more than this at their balls, did you?"
The duke hesitated a moment and ate yet another pastry, looking thoughtfully into the pitcher of ice water.
"I suppose they always told me how much I could drink," he mused. "Have I lost control? Is it not right? Have I done anything horribly irredeemable?"
"Nothing of the sort, sir," she replied. "You have not yet made a fool of yourself, nor upset anyone. I came to see how you were doing, and when I saw that you were beginning to show signs of inebriation I made sure to remove you as discreetly as possible."
"Wait... you planned all of this, Agnes?" he asked.
"I did, sir," she replied. "I could not allow you to continue drinking until you reached a point where it caused you trouble. I want this event to be a success almost as much as you do, and I cannot bear to see you having trouble due to a simple error of judgment."
He shook his head a little. "Thank goodness you were there for me again, Miss Hubbard," he said and smiled widely. "You are such an asset to this house, and to myself. You have saved me."
Agnes blushed and smiled nervously. "I would not say saved, sir. I am simply assisting, as you asked me to."
"No, you are quite wonderful," he replied, gazing into her eyes. "You are going above and beyond for me. And that dress looks absolutely beautiful on you, Agnes."
She was feeling a little more nervous by the second. Now was definitely the time to leave and return to the hall. But she did not. Some part of herself, deep down, wanted to see where exactly he was headed.
"Thank you, Agnes," he said, stepping in closer yet again.
He leaned in slowly, and for a moment Agnes froze, barely realizing what was happening. His face was so near to hers, and she knew that what she wanted, what she had wanted for so very long, was about to happen. And she would be wholly innocent in it. "Caught by surprise", of course. She didn't know he was about to do that.
But she did. She knew he was about to kiss her and she knew that it was wrong. She knew he was inebriated and acting foolishly. She was sober, and much more socially aware than he was. She had to be the better person.
She stepped back and shook her head sternly. "Let us return to the ball."
The duke froze, stood up, and stared at her as though wondering what had just gone wrong, what had got in between him kissing her and him... not.
"Of course," he said, a bright red flush taking over his face again. But it was not the wine this time. He had been caught out and, however peculiar and clueless he could be, he knew full well what the problem was, he knew full well he should not have done that.
And yet still he reached for her hand and held it as he began to make his way back towards the hall where the first intrepid young people were probably only just beginning to dance a little.
Agnes slipped her hand out of his. "Come, if you are away too long the guests may worry. Let us rejoin them and ensure they are all happy. That is your role now you are the host."
He seemed so disappointed, so heartbroken, she could not help but wonder what could have gone so horribly wrong had she simply gone ahead and allowed him to kiss her. Nobody would have seen. Nobody would have known. The next day he could have put it down to drink and she could have claimed she felt trapped or did not realize what he was doing.
But the opportunity had passed, and she had to remind herself that she had come out of it with something much more valuable than a brush of the lips: her dignity as a lady.
A small part of her would have preferred the kiss, though.
Re-entering the hall, he mingled in once again. All eyes were on him, the host, the man of the hour, and a couple of rowdier young men cheered and raised their glasses in congratulations at the duke, making it well-known to all that at least they enjoyed the party and approved of it.
Agnes looked around feeling mostly satisfied that nothing had gone awfully wrong in their absence. No worse than what could have happened had she not intervened, at least... The other guests did not even notice her, though she entered by his side, and she was able to slip away into the party and continue to watch the room from the piano, making sure that nothing else was amiss.
After observing for half an hour and enjoying the sights, feeling confident things were going much better, Agnes made her way upstairs to check on Georgia. She felt a slight panic as she realized that from outside the child's bedroom door she could still hear the piano downstairs, as well as some young man shouting about something in the garden. As one of her books suggested, there was always someone who had to get too drunk and make a lot of noise.
But as she opened the door and crept in, Agnes was relieved to see no movement in the cot. She walked up slowly and quietly before breathing a sigh of relief.
The girl was sleeping so gently and peacefully. She had wriggled out from under her blanket, so Agnes reached down and drew it back up over her, causing the child to mumble contentedly in her sleep. It was such a difference from downstairs. So peaceful and pleasant. It was tempting to remain and watch over her.
But no, Agnes knew that the duke would need her. Especially until he was a little soberer and r
eady to actually handle his own socializing. She would have to stay in his company or watching over him, for another few hours at least before she could retire for the night, either to read in Georgia's room or to her own bed.
As soon as she came downstairs, Agnes realized something was seriously wrong. The dancing had all but stopped, and most of the guests were crowded in one part of the hall. For a moment, she felt a panic, wondering if the duke had done something wrong. But no. He was standing and talking to someone else, watching the increasingly rowdy gathering out of the corner of his eye.
Agnes walked up towards the group, looking around, listening to the noise as someone shouted at someone else about something that clearly had them very upset. And, for a split second, the crowd parted to the core, offering Agnes a perfectly clear view of what it was that the crowd were gathering around. Lord Chester and Baron Fitzroy. Shouting, squaring up, and most likely ready to fight.
