Extraordinary Tales of Regency Love: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  Chapter 30

  Agnes crept up through the circle that was slowly growing as more and more people noticed it. She was listening in, trying to drown out the sounds of the other guests gossiping already, and realized what the trouble was. Baron Fitzroy was blaming Lord Chester for his lost cufflink.

  Of course he would.

  Baron Fitzroy was the sort of gentleman who took all matters personally. And he was also the sort to believe that his enemies were continually conspiring against him.

  To make matters worse, Lord Chester was the sort of gentleman who routinely played practical jokes on friend and foe alike, including at one point allegedly taking a horse into his best friend's kitchen.

  From what Agnes could make out, a similar incident occurred involving Baron Fitzroy, and, well, the rest was history. The two men had not spoken a kind word to or about one another since.

  Baron Fitzroy believed Lord Chester was an evil backstabbing man who had intentionally harmed his friend.

  Lord Chester believed Baron Fitzroy was a pompous fool, old beyond his years, who could not take a joke.

  As soon as Baron Fitzroy had laid eyes upon Lord Chester, he automatically assumed that the lord had stolen his cufflink and launched into a rant at him. And Lord Chester, rather than simply deny it, had teased Baron Fitzroy about his vanity.

  And, somehow, the entire conversation had devolved into a fight between the two men, with tempers rising hotly. The crowd was enjoying it, in the usual morbid fascination of a mob, already gossiping about what they thought they saw, what they believed was happening, how they expected it to relate to other events, prior and future.

  And, egged on by the crowd which appealed to Baron Fitzroy's fragile pride and Lord Chester's desire for an audience, the two men were slowly escalating, beginning to get into one another's personal space and shoving as well as shouting and accusing one another. It would not be long before the first punch was thrown, and from that point, it could only go downhill.

  Agnes had to defuse the situation. But these two men could not be reasoned with. Baron Fitzroy felt he had been gravely insulted and that the only way of saving himself was to get his revenge or at the very least an admission of guilt. Lord Chester was too excited about being the center of attention for the first time in many years and wanted nothing more than to continue to attract as much attention as possible, even if it meant shedding blood. Both had been known to get physical before.

  If this happened, the duke's ball would either fade into obscurity or be known as the place where Baron Fitzroy and Lord Chester quite possibly killed one another.

  Agnes swiftly made her way over to the duke. "Sir," she said under her breath. "Sir, I need ten shillings. I think I know how to make this cease."

  The duke seemed anxious, but fished through his pocket and passed Agnes exactly ten shillings. "Hurry, it is beginning to look dangerous," he urged her.

  Agnes simply curtsied and made her way past the crowd and over to the piano. The pianist had ceased playing the last song and had turned about in his seat, to better see the fight. From the look on his face, he was the sort who would probably start placing bets as soon as it broke out.

  "Please, begin to play the waltz already," she said, passing a couple of heavy coins to the pianist.

  No matter how much anyone enjoyed a good spectacle, they would get back to work immediately if one gave them enough money. And it seemed that the pianist had enough money. He swung his pedestal back around and began to play the waltz.

  As Agnes had hoped, the argument was not yet so heated that the young men and ladies would waste a perfectly good opportunity to get to know one another. After all, romance came before drama. People began to break off from the group and dance. Agnes knew that before long others would see the dancers and wish to join them.

  She crept up to one of the younger, less noble ladies in the crowd and passed her a single coin. "As soon as the fight breaks up, please, go to talk to Lord Chester and lure him to the far end of the room to dance."

  The lady looked at the coin and grinned. "Is there another one in it for me if I endure his company for an hour or so?"

  "Of course," Agnes replied with a smile. "I have been told he needs to be kept busy for quite some time."

  The lady nodded. "Of course, I shall lead him off as soon as the crowd breaks."

  Agnes carried on looking around. This time she needed to find someone quite specific. Not just anyone would do for this task. She meandered through the slowly splitting group until she spied the person she was looking for. A high-standing young lady whose eyes had been on the baron. Agnes walked up to her.

  "I beg your pardon," she began, fishing into her skirt pocket for the elusive cufflink and producing it as naturally as she could. "I found this on the floor and someone said you may know whose it is."

  At first, the lady eyed Agnes up and down, as though wondering if she would be worth talking to at all. But in her new gown, with her hair impeccably arranged, her face lightly powdered, and a beautiful necklace, Agnes was the very picture of nobility.

  The lady stretched her hand out and Agnes passed her the cufflink, which was immediately raised to within an inch of her nose.

  "Oh my!" the lady exclaimed, nearly dropping the tiny item in surprise. "That is the baron's cufflink!" Her eyes lit up at the opportunity. "My! I cannot believe how content he would be to have it back! Say, where did you find it?"

  Agnes shrugged lightly. "On the floor. I saw it when the people began gathering over there, and picked it up before it could become trampled. It looked valuable, but I could not spy any man who was missing one."

  The lady turned around and nudged her friend, who almost screamed when she saw what the first lady had. Immediately they began planning to deliver it to the baron, of course with an elaborate story about how they found it.

  Agnes slipped away before she could be thanked, or even remembered, and carefully watched the event play out.

  The crowd was thinning fast, as the waltz played and the beautiful young people danced closely. Everyone was noticing how the dance was attracting the best-looking eligible young people, and they were joining the fun, probably hoping for an opportunity to get to know someone who might be worth courting.

  Lord Chester was losing steam as he realized he was no longer the center of attention, but he still had a little fire left in him. Agnes could see that he was ready to strike Baron Fitzroy with all his might, to bring the fight up a step... but then, just in the nick of time, the high-class lady approached the baron, arm outstretched, all but shouting about how she had just found his cufflink, right there on the floor!

  The baron exclaimed a sound that somehow combined surprise, delight, and shame. He stepped over to the lady, inspected the cufflink and confirmed, perhaps a little too loudly, that it was in fact his.

  The remaining crowd gathered around the duo and began discussing how fortunate he was that she found it. As he realized how wrong he had been, the baron retreated with the high-class lady to the far side of the room to the punch bowl, where he allowed her to talk his ear off, most likely hoping that her conversation would make people forget how ridiculous he had been.

  Left behind, Lord Chester looked deflated, and when the lower-class lady brushed his arm gently, he jumped at the opportunity to soak up some much-needed attention. He followed her over to where everyone was dancing and they began to waltz as he whispered something into her ear which, from the look on her face, was decidedly not socially acceptable.

  And, just like that, both men were led away from one another, to opposite ends of the room. One was contentedly dancing with a woman of lower breeding. One drinking and laughing with a woman who adored him. The crisis had been averted.

  Walking up to Agnes, the duke shook his head a little. Agnes knew he wished to praise her. But that could wait for now. She simply smiled, curtsied deeply, and walked away, to continue observing the ball. The duke seemed a little confused that she had left him there,
but quickly returned to visiting different social circles around the room, making sure nobody was hurt and everyone was having a good time.

  Agnes watched him as, now much soberer than he had been earlier, he blended perfectly in with each crowd, truly enjoying himself, losing himself in the moment. He had all but forgotten her already, had he?

  She stood by the piano and watched as couples danced and mingled happily once again. The ball was a success. At least for now. Agnes knew how quickly a mood could change. She had just seen it, in fact.

  It was unlikely that Baron Fitzroy would humiliate himself twice in one night, and so long as the lady danced with him, Lord Chester's fire was under control. But they were far from the only troublemakers at the ball, and Agnes was not sure what could set someone else off.

  It was her duty to simply observe, detect such problems before they began, and halt or reverse the process, keeping everyone happily dancing, talking, drinking and eating. Eventually, the ball would come to an end. And then, once everyone was on their way home, she could let her guard down.

  But for now? For now, she wanted to simply enjoy the event she had heard so much about, even had held in her own home, and never experienced. A part of her longed to join them. She longed to walk out into the crowd and take a man's hand as they glided onto the dance floor. She longed to get perhaps a little too tipsy on punch and be taken safely to her room by a dear female friend. She longed to make friends from the upper classes, from the class she once belonged to, and laugh with them about matters that only affected their social group.

  She wanted to experience it all so very badly, but her time had run out by now. She was not a noble lady anymore.

  A part of her was pained at the thought of that. She had never been the beautiful young lady in an elegant gown, dancing with the bachelors. And now she never would be.

  Perhaps if her father had been a little more relaxed about her socializing, she could have met the duke, before he was a duke, at such an event. They could have locked eyes across the room, and danced the night away, like so many young couples in love.

  They could have courted and married. Then, at the next ball, they would have been the slightly older married couple, grateful for a night away from the children, dancing with more energy than any younger person.

  And then they could have grown old together in a dignified manner, become that old couple who sat at the sidelines, not drinking or eating, just talking and enjoying human company, except perhaps for one big dance of the night, which they would thoroughly enjoy.

  Out in the hall, Agnes could see all the different stages of life for a noble, from the young men and women at their first ball, to the older couple who maybe only attended one a year. Every stage of a life she could no longer experience.

  She would be lying if she said she did not envy them. But, at once, she knew it was not for her. She was not supposed to be out there with them. She was not supposed to dance and drink and talk with the upper-class socialites. Not only because she was now a governess but because she was... herself.

  She had never been able to practice these things. She had never attended a ball or been taught how to handle her drink. She had always found it stressful when she had to talk to people, always on edge, afraid of what they might say to her or what she might say that they could interpret incorrectly. Now she had seen a ball in person, she saw they were a massive gathering of social traps.

  She knew all there was to know about high society and etiquette, except for how to apply that knowledge to herself and attain some sort of stature. She sighed.

  Chapter 31

  The ball came to an end slowly, but without further interruptions. The guests seemed pleased. The little fight had actually been just enough to excite them, but not so much that they were worried or angry. It was that perfect balance between something new and thrilling, but not being so out of the ordinary as to be scandalous.

  As the guests departed they congratulated the duke on his first-ever ball, and he promised to hold many more. One by one they left, the crowd thinning, until it was nearly three in the morning and only a few people remained. At that stage, it was safe to say the ball had been successful. The guests were happy, the guests were gone.

  And, most importantly, they were oblivious to Agnes's role in it all. She watched as the duke bid farewell to the last guests and immediately marched to the punch bowl, pouring himself another drink and adding a measure of scotch to it before swallowing it. It seemed that he might have not coped quite as well as he would have liked to, and now he was paying the price of his nerves shattering.

  "It has been a long night, sir," Agnes said with a warm smile. "Your Grace has done a beautiful job, though. I do believe that nothing but good words shall be spoken of yourself, this home, and the ball."

  The duke drew a deep breath. "Does that mean I must hold another one?"

  Agnes could not help but laugh. "Was it so terrible, sir?"

  "I did not expect it to be so... difficult," he remarked, face beginning to flush from the drink. "I wanted to do well, and that pressure was so much. I had no clue what I was doing much of the time, and not having a dance partner, nor being able to drink, made it even worse. It was nothing like attending a ball."

  "Not at all, but surely holding a ball brings its own kind of satisfaction?" Agnes suggested.

  The duke hesitated and made himself another drink. "Not particularly. I think I would do much better to merely attend balls from now on. Holding them is far too much."

  "But Your Grace did fantastically well," she said with a smile. "Especially for a first ball."

  "How would you know?" he asked. "You have never attended one before. That was nothing like what I wanted, and I doubt I shall ever hold a ball ever again."

  Agnes fell silent, not sure what else to say.

  "I am glad you saved the day, though," he carried on. "Without you, it would have been an unmitigated disaster. But thanks to you, even if I never hold another ball, the guests will remember this one for going well, and that is how I shall be remembered. I am forever in your debt for that, Agnes."

  "All I did was what I have learned throughout the years," she replied.

  "But you have never attended a ball, how did you know what to do?" he asked, baffled.

  "Forgive me if I am being too bold, sir, but I should hope that the typical ball does not nearly descend to fisticuffs halfway through," she said.

  The duke laughed loudly. "That is true. Nevertheless, you solved the problem so beautifully."

  "All I know is what is said in books, sir. But I use it to the best of my abilities," she replied.

  "And yet it seems that from books you have learned far more than I have from my own experiences," he insisted. "I doubt I could have done what you did."

  "And I doubt I could have socialized as you did, sir," she contested.

  He hesitated. "Maybe if I find you a good book on the matter."

  They both let out a shy laugh at once, eyes locked, cheeks flushed.

  "I suppose we each possess skills which the other does not," Agnes said with a smile.

  "Indeed," the duke replied. "We make an absolutely wonderful pair, do we not?"

  Agnes felt her blush intensifying. "Sir, perhaps you are having a little too much to drink again?"

  "Or perhaps... Perhaps you are having a little too little to drink?" he replied. "You have not had anything all night, how can you say you attended a ball if you did not have a single drink?"

  He passed her a glass, but she drew it away before he could top it up with scotch. That would not be necessary. She sipped it. Too much alcohol was a terrible idea for a lady. If she had just enough to relax her mind, it made her do things which she wanted to do but should not. But a sip would not hurt. She held the drink, so as to not insult the duke, but decided she would not have any more. It was not a great idea.

  "How did your first ball treat you?" he asked quietly, looking into his drink. "I suppose it did not quite live up t
o your expectations, running around after a man who should know better."

  Agnes shrugged. "I did not mind running around after you, sir. And you were by far not the least socially educated among all those present. There were quite a few much worse than yourself, I am shocked to say."

  He remained silent and took another swig of his drink.

  "I ought to check on Georgia," Agnes said, finding the tension unpleasant. "It has suddenly gone quiet, and perhaps she noticed."

  It was less about the child and more about not having to endure any more painful silence and odd, slightly inebriated small talk. But she could not exactly tell the duke that she wished to leave him until he was more sober and coherent, could she?

  She began to make her way towards Georgia's room, and to her dismay the duke seemed to have also invited himself, bringing his glass with him. So much for leaving his company. She started walking up the stairs wondering if the child would have awoken indeed.