Chapter Thirty-Three
The Soldiers’ Hospital Fundraising Ball
Aware of the evening’s high stakes, Rufus arrived on time for once.
He greeted the earl and countess, the earl’s sister, Lavinia, and then Clem in the receiving line but was unable to offer more than a veiled promise to the unspoken question in the widening of her eyes.
“You and Lady Lavinia have outdone yourselves with the decorations. Exceptional. I expect you will be very happy with how this evening ends.”
Clem smiled as he bowed over her hand. “I do hope all of our plans work out, Lord Marsden.”
Forced to move on and allow others to greet the hostesses of the ball, Rufus made a slow progression around the room.
Truly, the two women had exceeded themselves, carrying patriotic colors through decorations and bunting.
An array of battle standards was lined up to the right of the musicians.
It had to be Clem’s doing, of course, but he was surprised, not that she must have convinced someone high up at Whitehall to lend the standards—Clem was incredibly persuasive and charming—but that no word of the loan had reached him.
If only I could recruit her into my network.
Why can’t I? The small voice whispered in his brain.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon actively contributed what was let slip in her club.
Why couldn’t other women also play a role?
Far from being the weaker sex, Rufus agreed with the Black Widow that there were many capable and intelligent women.
The fact that most men underestimated their abilities could work in his favor.
Rufus caught sight of Laurent’s arrival and shelved thinking about his radical idea until later.
The Frenchman looked every inch the son of a comte, and Rufus couldn’t fault his greeting of Clem, but when he rose from his bow to Lady Lavinia, their gazes met and held longer than polite society allowed.
A soft word from Clem brought both of them back to their surroundings, and Laurent moved away from the line as Rufus angled his approach to cross paths.
“Good to see you here, St. Giles. A worthy cause to turn out for.” He clapped a hand on Laurent’s shoulder and guided him to a table filled with bowls of punch and lemonade. Pouring one, he handed it to the dazed Frenchman. “Try this.”
Laurent took the proffered cup but didn’t drink. “She is a goddess, perfection. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We did, and I also told you she and Will—”
“Not Lady Clementine. Lady Lavinia! I must claim two dances before her dance card fills.”
“It won’t. Everyone knows not to ask her. Lady Lavinia doesn’t dance.”
That pulled Laurent from his daze. “Doesn’t dance? Why not?”
“A riding accident as a child. Clem said, to this day, her friend remains overly conscious of her injury and prefers to observe festivities from the sidelines. She is an accomplished conversationalist and harpist, should you ever be invited to a musical evening here.”
“But—” Laurent turned his head, unable to look away from the woman who had so captivated him. “She gives no sign of infirmity.”
“It happened several years ago. Clem is of the opinion that it’s mostly in Lavinia’s head now. Of course, you could invite her to stand up with you. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Laurent nodded absently. “C’est vrai. If she refuses to dance, I can talk with her. It is not the same as holding her in my arms, but it will suffice.” Laurent handed the untouched cup of punch back to an amused Rufus, straightened his already impeccable lapels, and made a beeline for Lavinia.
The receiving line was now small enough that he was able to draw their hostess aside for a few moments as he asked for an impossible two dances.
Rufus remained at a distance, observing Lavinia’s slow shake of the head and regretful smile, and Laurent’s body language. He persevered with what was most certainly his best persuasive argument and then a miracle happened: Lady Lavinia offered her dance card.
Most likely, she selected two slower dances, but Rufus knew Laurent wouldn’t care what they were. The lady had agreed!
He noted a small, delighted smile as Clem watched their interaction before a rush of servants to their stations signaled the arrival everyone was waiting for. The senior footman approached the earl and then Clem and Lavinia, quietly passing on the news.
The Prince Regent had arrived.
Will hung back at the rear of the party following the regent into Lavinia’s ball and fiddled with his neckcloth.
He planned on trying to stay out of Prinny’s sight long enough to manage a word with Clem since he’d had no chance to talk with her in days.
Between Rufus and Prinny, his presence had been required every day since his private audience, either at the War Office or, on one memorable occasion, in the regent’s retinue at a victory celebration.
The regent had attended a celebration every day in honor of the end of the war with Napoleon.
Tonight looked set to be more of the same, dancing attendance on the regent.
But tonight he wanted—nay, needed time with Clem.
His hand went subconsciously to his pocket, felt the slim box, and patted it. Praying Rufus had managed his part in whatever daring plan he’d concocted, Will prayed he’d be able to offer the ring to Clem. Taking a deep breath, Will entered Lavinia’s ballroom in Prinny’s rearguard.
“A very worthy cause, Lady Clementine. Very worthy indeed.” The Prince Regent had greeted Lavinia and now held Clem’s hand in his chubby fingers. “I regret I am unable to open the dancing with you this evening.”
Aware of Prinny’s problem with gout, they had expected no less. In fact, they had counted on it. Clem rose from her curtsy, aware that Lavinia had planned a surprise to open the ball, one in which Clem knew she would figure, since her friend did not dance.
“Your Highness, we are honored by your presence here, and so very grateful for the increase it will bring to our fundraising efforts for the hospital.”
“Indeed, my dear.” Prinny moved on, his rotund figure like a stately warship sailing up the Thames River, lesser vessels following in his wake.
Prinny’s retinue progressed past her, and then, finally, she caught sight of Will.
He made it.
As the evening had passed and other guests arrived with no sign of Will, Clem had grown anxious.
Fearing his endeavors on behalf of the regent had kept him from her, or that Rufus hadn’t been successful in his plan on their behalf, relief rushed through her on seeing him, but it was quickly followed by another surge of worry.
Why was he with the regent tonight? Had Rufus known he was to be one of the regent’s party when he made his plans? He had not mentioned it. Would that make a difference to the outcome of the evening?
On edge, she squeezed Will’s hand when he bowed over hers. “Will, I really want to speak with you. Is there any chance we can—”
“Ravenshoe, stop monopolizing the most beautiful woman in the room.” Prinny’s command focused all eyes on them.
Will dropped her hand and bowed to the regent. “Your Highness, I regret I was carried away by Lady Clementine’s sweet smile.”
“Of course, but get yourself over here and tell Potty about your ride to Waterloo.”
With no choice but to watch Will do the regent’s bidding, Clem gripped her gloved hands together, digging deep for her social smile.
Lavinia hooked an arm through hers and, their receiving duties done, drew her away from the door.
Clem’s mind whirled with questions she had little hope of having answered.
Will was at Waterloo? Why didn’t he tell me about that? Will he ever share what happened to him in France?
Lavinia prattled on, an easy-to-ignore string of acceptable topics, until she paused and raised one hand in a small wave of acknowledgement. “Geoffrey just signaled. Prinny’s settled, so we can begin the festivities.”
Clem blinked, her gaze settling on Lavinia’s older brother, who had offered to speak on her behalf.
“Come on, Clementine. Jenkins is standing by with the punch bowl.”
Why is he holding a punch bowl, and what does it have to do with opening the ball?
Lavinia tugged her arm, and they made their way to the dais, stepping up on either side of Lavinia’s brother, the earl.
As soon as they flanked him, the earl raised his hands and called for attention. Like a ripple on a pond, the crowd fell quiet from the front of the ballroom to the back. Eyes turned to the dais, eager to begin the entertainment.
“Your Royal Highness, ladies and gentlemen. We thank you all for accepting the invitation of Lady Lavinia and Lady Clementine to such an important event. How important it is, you can see by the presence of our beloved prince regent himself.”
Applause sounded throughout the ballroom, and Prinny looked pleased. He would bask in the reflected glow of their success, of course, but Clem did not mind.
“Many of you have given to our fundraising event already, and many gentlemen have paid an additional sum of a guinea to place a calling card into this receptacle.” He gestured to where Jenkins, the butler, held up a punchbowl containing more calling cards than Clem had ever seen gathered in one place.
“An unusual thing to do, one might think. But Lady Clementine has graciously accepted our invitation to delve into this bowl and draw out the card of one lucky gentleman with whom she will open the dancing.”
Barely holding onto her smile, Clem’s mind spun at the unexpected turn the evening was taking. Lavinia had indeed asked if Clem would open the dancing, but this lucky dip for her partner was a surprise.
Is this Rufus’s plan? But how—
A murmur ran through the crowd. Expressions varied from surprise to expectation, with several matrons looking displeased and a few, scandalized.