“Darling, do tell them how you decided that even though Mr. Hughes and Mr. Fenville are tried and true Whigs who bitterly oppose anything their rival, Mr. Tressler, a loyal Tory proposes, you thought they might enjoy discussing their opposing views in a neutral setting such as our drawing room.”
The politicians looked suitably mortified. Taviston was the brilliant one though. In one sentence he had informed her of the nature of the argument and castigated the men for their behavior.
Victoria gamely smiled. “But of course. Am I to understand you aren’t finding it more conducive to compromise? I hear some of the sessions in Parliament are very noisy and I’d hoped you could enjoy a better ambience here.” If these men were going to almost come to blows at her dinner party, she was going to make them feel uncomfortable.
Shame crept into at least one pair of eyes. Alas, a commotion at the door disrupted them. Halston appeared and drew himself tall. “His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”
All bodies in the room swiveled toward the double doors as Halston swept in the portly prince with a flourish of his hand.
Taviston and Victoria approached him as he surveyed the room. Her husband bowed and Victoria curtsied respectfully.
The prince’s eyes twinkled as they alighted on her husband. “Taviston! Haven’t seen you in ages, my dear fellow. But you’ve finally chosen a bride, eh? Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness. This is my duchess, Victoria.”
The man appeared perplexed for a moment and then finally glanced down toward Victoria.
“Ah, there you are, m’dear. Tiny thing, aren’t you? Not nearly enough flesh, if you know what I mean!” He chuckled loudly, amused with himself.
Bewildered by this odd statement, Victoria peeked at Taviston to judge his reaction, but he remained expressionless. However, Halston called them to dinner in that moment and the prince turned back toward the door muttering, “So soon?”
Taviston shrugged in confusion and rolled his eyes. A laugh escaped her and he turned and threw her a wink.
As they all filed down the hallway toward the dining room, Victoria sent up a small prayer. So far things had gone well, except for the small incident with the MPs. She hoped her luck would hold.
TAVISTON STUDIED THE guests around the dinner table. The dinner was going remarkably well, all things considered. He had expected the skirmish among the politicians. As for the rest of them, they were behaving—for now. Though the more the prince drank, the louder and more boorish he became. Taviston sensed that the Tory, Tressler, only waited for the royal to make a partisan remark and then he planned to pounce.
With a sigh, he tried to see past Lord Linslade and Lady Egham to view his wife. Due to the presence of the prince, she didn’t sit at the opposite end of the table. That honor belonged to Prinny. Victoria sat to the prince’s left, trying to charm the man, but he was much more interested in flirting with Mrs. Tressler, the woman on his right.
Taviston caught only glimpses of Victoria, but she radiated beauty and seemed to be relaxing more as the dinner wore on. Her gown of midnight blue glittered around the neckline and edge of her sleeves. He would have already complimented her on it if they had had even one minute alone.
The sudden clatter of silver on china brought everyone’s attention to the center of the table. They had been enjoying an entremets of plum pudding. Except, it seemed, for Lord Egham. With his face quite purple, his eyes bulging, and his tongue protruding, he made a distressing picture.
Halston and Victoria rushed to the man’s side at the same time. His hands began to convulse, and he managed to knock his cup of pudding into the air. It crashed back to the table, but most of the pudding splashed onto Victoria’s gown.
Lady Egham eyed her husband with an eerie calmness. “He must have eaten an almond. He does tend to have the most violent reaction to them.” She nodded at Halston. “Simply remove him from the table and supply him with a purgative. He will be right as rain soon enough.” She smiled widely and returned to her conversation with Lord Linslade.
After an uncertain glance around the room, Victoria summoned a footman over to assist Halston. They dragged the unlucky lord from the room while she mopped her gown as best she could.
As Victoria returned to her seat, Lady Southey questioned the room at large. “Whoever puts almonds in a plum pudding?”
Victoria, still looking uneasy about the health of Egham, nonetheless held her chin high. “Mrs. Baxter and I were attempting to make a more distinctive pudding.”
The men around the table ignored her and the ladies dismissed her comment. Mrs. Denton aimed a frosty glare at Taviston’s wife. “I was certain everyone knew Egham cannot tolerate almonds.”
That did it. They would not treat his Victoria this way.
“I did not know, Mrs. Denton.” Her shock satisfied him—momentarily. “Bedford, did you know about Egham’s intolerance for almonds?”
Startled out of his conversation with Gordon, the duke shook his head negatively.
Mrs. Denton flushed but managed a peevish, “Perhaps not the gentlemen, but the ladies of London are informed as to the matter.”
“Ah, well, my wife is new to London.” He searched out Lady Egham on the other side of the table. She needed to shoulder some blame here. “Lady Egham, why did you not inform my wife of your husband’s sensitivity?”
The young brunette reluctantly dragged her attention away from Linslade. She shrugged delicately. “I suppose I forgot.”
“I do hope he’ll be all right,” Victoria offered from the other side of Linslade.