THE BALLROOM on the top floor of the Ashcombe’s London townhouse was a long, ivory room with a parquet floor that had been polished until it glowed. There were a dozen gilded half columns that framed the numerous double doors leading into the attached rooms that had been set up for dinner as well as card rooms for those who preferred to avoid the crowded dance floor. And overhead there was a vaulted ceiling with three massive chandeliers that were reflected in the soaring mirrors at each end of the room.
Talia stood on a dais beneath the balcony where the orchestra played a rousing country tune, dancers spinning about her in a dizzying array of brilliant satins and glittering jewels. Talia allowed a smile of pure contentment to curve her lips.
Although she had slowly come to trust Gabriel’s mother as she had escorted Talia from one society event to another, she could not deny her trepidation when the older woman had insisted that she and Gabriel host their own ball.
It did not matter that she had been invited into the most exclusive homes in London over the past weeks. Or even that the frosty receptions had slowly melted to a measure of genuine welcome as she’d lost her reserve and managed to converse without her usual stammering. The fear that no one would bother to attend her first gathering had refused to be dismissed.
Now she realized that she need not have worried.
The townhouse was nearly groaning beneath the weight of the vast crowd, and Vale had recently whispered in her ear that he had been forced to turn away several uninvited guests.
Of course, her obvious triumph as a hostess was not the true reason for her contentment.
Or at least not entirely.
She was certainly vain enough to take pleasure in the sight of the ton filling her home. She beamed in pride as she gazed down her pretty blue satin ball gown with silver trimming about the hem. The low-cut bodice was stitched with rows of pearls that matched the strands of pearls threaded through her dark curls.
But she had far more important matters to fill her heart with joy.
Her smile widened as she recalled Gabriel’s fierce relief upon receiving a note this morning from Harry. His brother was well and currently traveling through India where he had encountered several other English noblemen who were touring the country.
The assurance that his brother had fully recovered and that he was far away from Jacques Gerard and France healed a wound that had plagued Gabriel since their flight from Calais.
But in truth, it was the tiny surprise growing within her that offered the greatest sense of pleasure.
“I hope you are pleased.” Joining her on the dais, Hannah Lansing waved a plump hand toward the twirling couples. “The ball is an undoubted success.”
Talia nodded, her gaze running down Hannah’s white tulle dress that was layered over a lavender underskirt with matching feathers in her hair. The young maiden might not be considered a beauty, but there was a fresh innocence in her round face and a ready humor in her dark eyes.
And of course, there was no mistaking the newfound confidence that only added to her natural attraction.
A confidence that came from being pursued by one of the most sought-after bachelors in all of London.
“It does appear to be well attended,” she agreed.
“Well attended?” Hannah’s chuckle drifted over the near deafening sounds that filled the ballroom. “I have never seen such a mad scramble for invitations. I heard rumors that even the prince refused to leave Carlton House until he was certain he had been included on your guest list.”
“It is quite amazing,” Talia said, recalling her breathless astonishment when the prince had arrived with his current mistress, staying long enough to kiss her hand and speak a few words with Gabriel before he was making his grand exit. “I would never have dreamed it possible only a year ago.”
“Good heavens, no.” Hannah pointed toward the small alcove at the far end of the room. “We both would have been cowering in that shadowed corner.”
“True enough.” Talia gave a small shake of her head, glancing toward Gabriel’s mother, who held court among the matrons, her stately form encased in a rose satin gown and her still-golden hair smoothly knotted at the nape of her neck. “My mother-in-law is a formidable woman. Gabriel promised she would force society to accept me and she has performed nothing less than a miracle.”
Hannah lightly batted her arm with an ivory fan. “I do not doubt that the dowager was responsible for ensuring you received the proper respect for your position as the Countess of Ashcombe, but it is your own efforts that have captivated them,” she said, casting a rueful glance toward the same guests who had once made their lives such a misery. “The pompous fools had no notion that the daughter of a merchant could possess such charm and wit.”
Talia shrugged. A large measure of her bitterness had been thankfully eased by Gabriel’s unwavering love for her.
“Not that I would ever excuse their appalling behavior toward us,” she said, her attention shifting to the tall, golden-haired man who still made her heart leap with excitement. Especially when he was appearing at his finest in a black jacket and gold waistcoat with white knee breeches. Reluctantly she turned her attention back to her companion. “But I was too shy and frightened of others to reveal any charm, and certainly no wit.”
Hannah nodded with an understanding that only the two of them could share. “And now?”
“And now I no longer concern myself with their opinion so I can actually enjoy myself.”
“That much is obvious,” Hannah agreed, studying her with a curious gaze. “You are glowing.”
Talia hesitated. Thus far she had shared her news only with Gabriel, preferring to avoid the avid interest it was bound to stir among the nobles. And then there was her father’s reaction, not to mention Gabriel’s mother…well, she had decided she intended to be far away from London when word leaked out that she was breeding.
Hannah, however, was one of the few people she trusted in the world to keep her secret.