‘I am not nervous,’ I said and then offered a conciliatory smile when he looked at me sharply. I must have sounded as rattled as I was feeling as yet another thing to worry about struck me. If I got home – when I got home – how was I going to explain where I had been? It could have been worse, I told myself, gathering up wrap and reticule and fan and managing my skirts as I climbed down. I might be married, or have children. Sorry kids, Mummy just popped back to the nineteenth century for a bit, get your own tea, will you? simply wouldn’t cut it.
My precious voucher was bowed through and we were inside. Now we were not in such a rush as we had been the other morning I could look around and my jaw dropped. All dressed up for company, with candelabra blazing, music playing and chattering, gorgeously-dressed guests milling about, the place was transformed.
The men were all in full evening dress which meant knee breeches with their swallow-tailed coats. I must ask Lucian how he kept his stockings so beautifully wrinkle-free, I thought as we inched towards the double doors into the main ballroom. He was greeting people, making introductions. I smiled and responded and tried not to gawk as I was ruthlessly carried on to the next encounter.
‘What am I going to do if I’m asked to dance?’ I murmured as the sound of music got louder.
‘Say you have a sprained ankle after our collision with the coach on Sunday. It is on the mend but you must not strain it,’ Lucian whispered back as we reached the ballroom at last. The music was coming from overhead where the orchestra sat on a balcony, supported on columns, the walls were hung with large mirrors in gilt frames and huge candelabra blazed from the ceiling.
It was already exceedingly hot. I took a deep breath and wished I hadn’t. Frankly, it stank of candle wax and perspiration which did nothing for the illusion of glamour. ‘Phew!’ I fanned myself.
‘The ventilation is poor, I’m afraid,’ Lucian said.
That and a complete lack of deodorants, I supposed. Not everyone was as scrupulous about personal hygiene as the friends I had already made and even the most fastidiously clean person was going to be dripping after an evening in here. I could feel the sweat begin to slide down between my breasts, so who was I to criticise? There was no dry cleaning either. Did I remember that all but the simplest cotton gowns had to be unpicked before they could be washed and then must be remade?
‘Patronesses,’ Lucian murmured, steering me towards two middle aged women, both dark, one rather sweet-faced, the other looking as sharp and alert as a terrier waiting for a rabbit to pop out of a hole. ‘Lady Cowper and Lady Jersey.’
I had been watching other young women and thought I could probably manage an approximation of a curtsey without falling flat on my face, so I gave it a try when Lucian introduced me. ‘I must thank you for the favour of a voucher, Lady Cowper,’ I said in what I hoped was a suitably refined manner.
‘Your American cousin from Boston, did you say, Radcliffe?’ Lady Jersey asked before her colleague could reply. ‘Does that account for your accent, Miss Lawrence?’
Patroness of Almack’s, I reminded myself. Probably has a licence to be rude to single, young, untitled, women. Smile and behave yourself. ‘Yes, Lady Jersey.’
‘Very novel. You do not sound at all like your countryman, Mr Monroe.’
‘No, ma’am. Regional accents do vary, even in America.’ Oh dear, from her expression having any accent at all was obviously not the thing. I could have commented on hers, but I didn’t want us to be thrown out.
‘I hear you caused a scene outside the Palace on Sunday.’ She seemed more curious than disapproving and produced an eyeglass though which she scanned me, head to toes.
‘We were knocked down by a speeding carriage, Lady Jersey. His Royal Highness, um, came to our rescue.’
From her expression I guessed that she would have paid good money to have seen that, but all she said was, ‘How very… gallant of His Royal Highness. Were you injured, Miss Lawrence?’
‘A slight sprain, ma’am. I fear I must not dance tonight.’
‘How unfortunate.’ Apparently I was the clumsy one. ‘That will not help your purpose in coming to London.’
And that was husband-hunting, presumably. I showed perhaps rather too many teeth when I smiled back. ‘I do not think that the sightseeing and shopping that were my purpose will be much affected, Lady Jersey.’
‘So amusing,’ Lady Cowper said, managing to get a word in edgeways finally. Obviously she thought I was joking and could not believe that any single woman under the age of thirty was not desperate for a husband. ‘With your injury I will not introduce you to any eligible dance partners tonight. Lord Ra
dcliffe, remind me to do so on the next occasion when Miss Lawrence joins us.’ She gave me a brisk nod. ‘Lord Radcliffe will no doubt be able to introduce you to young gentlemen who are eligible in other ways.’ Her look was assessing. ‘And perhaps some who are not quite so young.’
‘Ladies.’ He steered me away before I could attempt another wobbly curtsey or inform her that at twenty six I was not on the shelf. Or so desperate that I was ready to settle down with a middle aged gentlemen for some nice cocoa before bedtime.
‘Sheesh.’
Lucian snorted, but when I looked at him he had his face well under control. ‘They are two very influential ladies,’ was all he said. Then the corner of his mouth twitched.
‘Find me Lord Wraxall before I disgrace myself, then we can get out of here,’ I said. ‘And we must have another look at the mirror in the refreshment room. You saw me in it while an assembly was going on, so it must work, even when there are other people around.’
‘We could.’ Lucian sounded less than enthusiastic. I was about to question that when he added, ‘There he is. Thin, brown hair, next to the tall chap with dark red hair and the plump one with eyeglasses.’
‘Wraxall’s the one with the beaky nose? Right. Don’t introduce me, I intend to be rude about you. I can get him into conversation, I think.’
‘That would be extraordinarily fast of you.’
‘I know.’ I winked at him and sauntered off.