by Merry Farmer
Ellie wanted to turn and run. Her panic was so intense that tears stung the back of her eyes. Every single person in the room in front of her would see right through her, would know that she wasn’t anything more than a simple, country girl.
“You look as though you’re Napoleon facing down the British army at Waterloo.”
Henry’s murmured comment, and sudden appearance, made Ellie jump. But it also put her at ease. Eyes still wide, she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight enough to drain all the blood from his fingers.
“I don’t think I can do this, Henry,” she whispered, breathless with fear. “I definitely can’t do this.”
“Relax,” Henry whispered. He moved her hand to the crook of his elbow and escorted her into the room. “Everyone here will love you.”
“Everyone here will turn their nose up at me.”
“They’re just people. Most of them are tired old windbags who my mother likes to impress, or stodgy friends of my father anyhow.”
“They’re all lords and ladies,” Ellie insisted.
“Not all of them.” Henry’s lips twitched. He raised a hand and appeared to be sorting through the guests. “Um…there.” He pointed to the far end of the room, to a portly man with huge sideburns that were no longer in fashion. “Sir John Longley isn’t an aristocrat. He’s just a merchant.” Henry winked at her.
“But he’s still a sir,” Ellie protested, feeling a fraction more at ease as Henry teased her. “And everybody else probably has a whole string of titles after their names.”
Henry didn’t argue that point, which made Ellie swallow with dread. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to a few of them, and you’ll see that they’re as ordinary as any cowpoke in Wyoming.”
Ellie laughed despite her nerves, just as Henry escorted her into a small circle of men and women who looked to be in their fifties and older.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I would be honored to introduce you to my fiancée,” he began with a slight bow. “Miss Helena Mortimer.”
Prickles broke out along Ellie’s skin as six sets of aged, aristocratic eyes turned on her. One of the women even raised a silly-looking pair of spectacles on a stick to study her.
“H-how do you do?” Ellie curtsied.
“Why, Henry,” one of the men said, sounding surprised. “She’s a gem.”
Ellie straightened from her curtsy and met the man’s appraising gaze with wide eyes.
“She most certainly is, your grace,” Henry replied, smiling at Ellie with a fondness that added a whole new layer of butterflies to the riot within her.
“One expects these American heiresses to be garish and brash,” the woman with the silly glasses said.
“I’m pleased to report that my fiancée is not like other heiresses,” Henry said, a little too much mischief in his eyes. Before anyone could comment—and before Ellie could burst into flames and sink into the floorboards with nerves—Henry went on with, “Ellie, I’d like you to meet Lord Francis Russell, the Duke of Bedford, and his charming wife, Lady Elizabeth, Lord Frederick Lygon, the Earl of Beauchamp, and his lovely wife, Lady Emily, and Lord John Ponsonby, the Earl of Bessborough, and his wife, Lady Caroline.” He leaned in closer. “Lord John was a famous cricketer in his day.”
Ellie opened her mouth, but it was completely dry, and the first sound that came out was a rough squeak. The six people standing in front of her were so far above anyone and everyone she’d ever known that she wasn’t sure how she should address them or what to say to any of them. All she managed was, “You’re all so beautiful.”
That earned her a round of laughter, but not the kind that was intended to make fun of her.
“Bless you, my dear. I haven’t been called beautiful for many a year now,” Lady Caroline said, her wrinkled cheeks going pink.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called beautiful,” Lord Lygon chuckled.
“Really?” Ellie blinked. “It seems such a shame that fine people, such as yourselves, aren’t reminded of how splendid you are on a regular basis.”
That started an even louder round of laughter. As awkward as Ellie felt, her fear that everyone would instantly see through her disguise eased up a little. She remembered what Theophilus Gunn had once told her back at his hotel—that everyone, no matter who they were, liked to be flattered now and then. And it seemed like they were also willing to give the benefit of the doubt to the one who did the flattering.
If only Ellie had been able to stay and talk to the older lords and ladies. They seemed charmed with her. But after a few minutes of conversation, Henry introduced her to another group, then another after that.
“See, it’s not as hard as all that,” he whispered to her as they continued their circuit around the room, heading toward Lord Howsden and his group.
“Not hard?” Ellie let out a wary laugh, pressing a hand to the sparkling, borrowed jewels that hung heavily over her low-cut neckline.
Henry lost some of his swagger as they reached Lord Howsden and his friends. “Father.” He gave the man a quick bow.
Apparently he wasn’t required to say anything else. Lord Howsden’s lips spread into what might have passed as a smile. “Ah,” he said, then turned to the tall lord with slick, blond hair and a thin moustache who stood with him. “Shayles, this is my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Miss Helena Mortimer, of the New York Mortimers.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” Lord Shayles took her hand. He bent to kiss it, which brought his eyes to the level of her breasts. A flash of something Ellie knew all too well filled Lord Shayles’s eyes as he stayed ogling her for longer than was proper. “I do so hope to get to know you better, now that you are here. Much better.”
Ellie had him pegged in an instant. A man who had no shame about issuing a thinly-veiled proposition to the fiancée of another man was the kind who would use a girl roughly. Bonnie wouldn’t have let him within twenty yards of her Place.
But she smiled anyhow and gave him a frosty, “How do you do?”
“And this is Lady Shayles,” Henry added when neither Lord Shayles nor Lord Howsden bothered to introduce her.
Poor Lady Shayles looked like a stiff breeze would blow her over. She curtsied and mumbled something that Ellie couldn’t hear.
“My other friend,” Lord Howsden went on, gesturing to the thick man with the ruddy complexion standing on his other side. “Lord Geoffrey Royston.”
“Charmed,” Lord Royston said, repeating Lord Shayles’s blatant assessment of her.
Ellie wanted to turn tail and run from the room for an entirely different reason. The only thing that stopped her was the fierce-eyed man who walked right up to their group and said in a Scottish accent, “Lord Henry, is this the fiancée we’ve been hearing so much about? I’m pleased to make her acquaintance.”
The Scotsman slipped his arm into hers and tugged her away from not only Henry, but the other three men and Lady Shayles as well. Ellie was too shocked by the act to do more than let the man march her several yards away, toward one of the room’s great fireplaces. She would have flown into a panic if Henry hadn’t walked right along with them, looking not only accepting of the Scotsman’s behavior, but glad for it.
“Thanks,” he said under his breath.
“It’s a pity that any young lady has to be subjected to the stares and glares of that lot, let alone a woman on the eve of her wedding,” the Scotsman said. He let go of her arm, broke into a benevolent smile, and bowed. “Lord Malcolm Campbell, at your service, my lady.”
Ellie wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or charmed. “I’m not a lady,” she said, then instantly kicked herself.
Lord Campbell laughed as he straightened. “You will be soon.” He slapped Henry on the shoulder.
Ellie’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t thought of that. Miss Mortimer would have been Lady Helena if she’d gone through with the marriage. So would she, if the whole thing weren’t a ruse.
“Lord Malcolm here has been
a great friend and mentor to me,” Henry explained, his smile coming back. “Which, of course, Father has hated with a vile passion.”
“We sit on opposite sides of the floor in the House of Lords,” Lord Malcolm revealed with a flicker of one bushy, grey eyebrow that made parliament sound more like a night at The Silver Dollar than government.
Ellie found herself smiling, even though she didn’t know what to say. She liked Lord Malcolm. His dark hair was over halfway grey, but he seemed as vibrant and youthful as Henry himself.
Before Ellie could think of a way to engage him in conversation, Lord Malcolm caught sight of something across the room. “Ah. Looks like another damsel might be in distress.”
Ellie and Henry turned to see Princess Olympia joining the group with Lord Howsden and the others. She glanced pointedly at Ellie, fury in her eyes, then tilted her chin up, giving Lord Howsden a languid smile as she extended her hand to Lord Shayles.
“She’s no damsel,” Ellie said. “She’s a princess.”
“Is she now?”
“She doesn’t like me,” Ellie added.
Lord Malcom looked astonished. “How could anyone not like you?”
Ellie blushed under the compliment, but she also sighed. “For some reason, she thinks we’re in a competition, and she’s determined to be the winner.”
“Hmm.” Lord Malcolm rubbed his chin, frowning openly at Olympia. “Sounds like someone has their sights set on crowning herself Queen of Society.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Henry laughed.
Lord Mortimer remained as serious as the grave. “You’ve no idea how much power a woman can have over others when she sets fashion trends, throws the balls everyone wants to attend, and snags the richest lover.” He paused. “Sorry, my lady.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Ellie said, though there was no way she could explain that the same rules of precedent applied to low society that applied to high. “I think I became her target the moment Lady Howsden spoke to me and ignored her at supper my first day here.”
“No doubt you’re right.” Lord Malcolm frowned for a moment. “She looks familiar. Has she been on the stage?”
“No. Far from it,” Henry said. “She’s a Rhenish princess, imported by Father specially to marry Reese.”
“Did someone say my name?”
Their small group was doubled as Lord Reese and three other men joined them.
“We were about to discuss your lovely fiancée,” Henry teased his brother.
Reese rolled his eyes. “Please, let’s not. It’s bad enough that Father is thrusting her on me for eternity. I’d rather talk about something nicer, like the lovely fiancée dear Father has thrust on you.”
Reese turned to Ellie with a brotherly smile, nodding to her. She liked Lord Reese. They’d had a few pleasant conversations with him in the last few days. And if she were honest, she felt sorry for him being stuck with Princess Olympia.
“It looks as though Henry got the better end of the parental machinations,” one of Lord Reese’s friends—a tall man with sandy-brown hair and blue eyes—said in a friendly, teasing sort of way. He stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Lord Richard Tavistock, at your service.”
Not to be outdone, one of the other men with dark, shaggy hair that was unfashionably long nudged Lord Richard aside and bowed in his place. “Lord Frederick Harrington, my lady. It’s a delight to meet you.”
Before Ellie could respond to him, the third friend pushed Lord Frederick out of the way and took Ellie’s hand, bending over to kiss it, his brown eyes snapping with impishness. “Grayson Sackville, my lady. I may be a regular old mister and not a nob like this lot, but I can thrash them all on the racecourse.”
Ellie couldn’t help but laugh, amazed at how quickly her mood went from anxious to amused. She was happy to discover that Lord Reese had such charming friends, even though her head was spinning over having met so many people in such a short period of time.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she told the young men.
“So when does the leg-shackling happen?” Lord Richard asked Henry.
They all launched into a lively discussion about the two upcoming weddings. Lord Malcolm excused himself, presumably to find people his own age to socialize with. Ellie was more than happy to pass a few minutes with Lord Reese’s friends. They were exactly the sort that the girls at Bonnie’s would have thrown open the doors, and other things, for. They didn’t just want to talk either. Each one insisted on dancing with her, which turned out to be far more enjoyable than Ellie would have imagined. Each of the lively young men were excellent leaders on the dance floor.
Her dancing didn’t stop with the young men either. As soon as the ice had been broken, half of the men in the room were eager to take her for a spin around the dance floor. Every bit of fear Ellie had about whether she would step on feet and embarrass herself was laid to rest. Not only did most of the men know how to dance well enough to guide her, no one seemed to be a stickler for the correct steps as long as she smiled and engaged them all in conversation.
The only trouble came when she spotted Princess Olympia standing to the side of the room, watching her. If looks could kill, Ellie would have expired several times. Olympia had all but turned green with envy. Ellie was certain the woman’s lack of a dance partner had something to do with it.
Regardless, Ellie sought out Henry for the next dance. He was more than happy to take her off the arm of her previous partner, and to whisk her around the room when the music started up again.
“Princess Olympia definitely hates me,” she told Henry once she was sure they were out of earshot of anyone who would care what she said.
“She’s jealous of your grace and charm,” Henry said.
Ellie’s brow flew up at the swiftness of his answer. “I’m only graceful and charming because you were right about all these people being normal.”
He laughed harder. “I never said that. Only that they were just people. None of us is normal.”
Ellie giggled along with him as they turned around the dance floor. The night was growing late, and guests were starting to depart. But she could have gone on all night in Henry’s arms. Although if she were honest with herself, she would have enjoyed a much more horizontal dance with him.
“I like your brother’s friends,” she said, forcing her mind to stay on the straight and narrow.
“They’re a sporting lot,” Henry agreed.
“Why didn’t you invite any of your friends to the party?”
He blinked, and a frown pinched his brow. “I suppose because I don’t have any friends.”
Ellie gaped at him. “You don’t have any friends? That’s ridiculous.”
A wry grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Let me amend that. I have friends, of a sort, but nobody that Mother would allow in her ballroom.”
“What do you mean?”
Henry let out a weary breath. “Ever since university, most of my friends have come from the tenants who own farms on our estate. And my man of business in London.” He paused to consider his statement, then said. “Yes, I’d count George as a friend. Far more than any of the nobs I wasted my university years with.”
“So you don’t have any aristocratic friends?” She blinked in surprise.
“To tell you the truth,” he said. “I don’t have much in common with them. No offense to Reese’s mates, but all they want to do is chase foxes and shoot and frequent gaming dens in town. I want more than that.”
A slow smile spread across Ellie’s face. And here she’d thought she was the only one who was out of place at Albany Court.
“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you’d been born as someone else?” she asked as the orchestra finished the waltz with a flourish.
They stopped, standing in each other’s arms, just a breath away, for what felt like a moment carved out of time. “Always,” he said. The intensity and sadness in his eyes went straig
ht to Ellie’s heart.
“There you are, my dears,” Lady Howsden said as she approached them from the side of the room. “Helena, would you be so kind as to come say goodbye to our guests with me?”
“Absolutely, Lady Howsden.”
Ellie pulled away from Henry reluctantly. He looked as though she’d given him something to chew on for a while.
It surprised Ellie that she was able to hold her own by Lady Howsden’s side as they saw the party guests off. Henry had put her at ease, and so many of the other guests had proven themselves to be personable that saying goodbye to them was an easy task. She smiled, shook hands, and genuinely wished to see most of them again, even though she knew it probably wouldn’t be possible.
“You have made quite an impression,” Lady Howsden whispered to her as Lord Russell took his leave after a particularly fond goodbye. “I’m sure you’ll find a stellar place in society in no time.”
“Thank you, Lady Howsden.” It was all Ellie could manage to say. It was getting to the point that each time the lovely, older woman said something like that to her, guilt squeezed her heart.
At least Princess Olympia hadn’t been there to glare at her the entire time. Ellie wasn’t sure when she’d retired, but considering that Lord Howsden, and Lord Reese and his friends had left earlier as well, it was only a little odd that Olympia would head up to bed early. Ellie was positively drooping with exhaustion herself.
She said goodnight to Lady Howsden and started to make her way up through the darkened hallways and staircases to her room. At least, she thought that’s where she was going. It was close to two in the morning, and with her mind numb and body aching from staying up so late, Ellie quickly got lost in the vast house.
