Chapter 13
Joseph could only stare at the mess before him.
He had spent many an hour, many a day in fact, preparing for this incredible ball, but now the focus of the evening lay in pieces on the floor.
Exactly what had happened, he did not know.
There had been some sort of commotion, and the servants had fallen as the cake dropped from their hands.
Now there were so many exclaiming over it that he felt himself embarrassed, as if somehow he was responsible for what had happened.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you might make your way to the other side of the ballroom whilst my servants clear this cake from the floor.” With a thin smile, he directed them away from the ruined cake. “The dancing will begin again very soon.”
To his relief, his servants – all of whom were on hand at once – came to clean the floor in preparation for the dancing.
There would be no excitement as the guests cut the cake.
There would be no presentation of the crown to whichever fortunate lady or gentleman found the single bean that was contained within.
He had intended to make this the most marvelous Christmas ball that had ever been.
Instead, he feared he would now be the laughingstock of London.
Many of the guests would speak about what had taken place, and whilst he was not responsible, they would still speak purely about the ball itself.
That was not at all what he had expected, nor what he had wanted.
“Brother.” Emily was beside him in a few moments, her husband next to her. “Whatever happened?”
“You will have to dismiss your servants!” Lord Lanark looked around and tutted loudly. “That is a simple task and they – ”
“It was not my servant's fault.” His brow furrowed, and Joseph looked around the room, as if he might find the culprit somewhere nearby, ready and willing to admit that they had caused the accident.
“There was some dreadful commotion, and the cake fell to the floor. I do not know who caused it or what happened precisely, but it was certainly not my servants doing.”
Before the conversation could continue, two ladies drew towards them all. One was wringing her hands whilst the other had a gleam in her eye that Joseph did not much like. Lady Abernyte, he realized. No doubt she was here to try and get as much gossip as possible.
“A dreadful thing to have happened, Lord Applegate.” The First Lady bobbed a quick curtsy, but Joseph could not recall her title. “A terrible thing indeed. I was very much looking forward to the game with the cake. I should have liked to have been queen for the evening.”
“Do be quiet, Lady Venables. I am quite sure that Lord Applegate does not need to hear such nonsense from you, especially when he will be deeply upset about the cake.” Lady Abernyte spoke without restraint, and Joseph's eyebrows lifted.
Lady Venables shrank back as if she had been slapped, her eyes lowering to the floor as her shoulders rounded.
This did not seem to trouble Lady Abernyte, for she only sniffed and then returned her gaze to Joseph. “The cake. What happened?”
Joseph blinked. “I am not yet certain, Lady Abernyte.” And even when I do discover it, I have no intention of informing you. He did not say this aloud, however, keeping such thoughts entirely to himself. Lady Abernyte was much too cruel for his liking, and he had no thought of telling her anything.
“I heard that it was Lady Florence’s doing.
” Lady Abernyte cast a suspicious glance over him as Joseph stiffened.
“It would not surprise me if that was true, however. She is a creature entirely disinclined towards poise and elegance. Her mother must endure a great deal. I confess, I do feel a little sorry for her… Lady Grangemouth, that is, not Lady Florence.”
“We do not know for certain whether it was Lady Florence or not.” To Joseph surprise, it was Lord Lanark who spoke up rather than Emily.
There was a flash of anger in his eyes, something that Joseph appreciated.
It told him he was not the only one becoming irritated with Lady Abernyte’s remarks.
“I do think it a foolish endeavour to begin to blame someone without certainty. Do you not, Lady Abernyte?”
Her lips flattened and she turned away without answering the question. Joseph scowled as he watched her walk away, thinking to himself that she was not someone he wanted to keep in company!
“I wonder if it was Lady Florence.” Emily let out a small sigh as Joseph frowned at her. “In many ways it would not surprise me, for she does have something of a reputation. It would not be unreasonable to suspect her.”
In an instant, Joseph's perspective changed.
If Lady Florence had been responsible, then no doubt she would be in a great state of upset.
He did not care about the cake any longer.
He did not care about what the ton would think of him.
All he wanted to do was find Lady Florence and assure her that all was well.
“Do excuse me.”
Emily set one hand on his arm. “Wherever are you going? You will have to announce the dancing again soon. The floor is almost cleared.”
Joseph looked around the ballroom. He took in the gently twinkling flames of the candelabras, his gaze roving over the holly and the ivy that twisted itself around the room.
There were ribbons and a roaring fire, sweet, spiced punch for every guests and a feast soon to come.
Everything he had done, he had done well and yet, now, none of that seemed to matter.
“I will announce the start of the dancing.” He looked long at her sister, hoping that she would understand and that he would not have to speak the truth in front of not only her, but Lord Lanark. “Then I must go and find Lady Florence. I must make certain that she is well.”
Emily searched his face, and then a small smile touched the corners of her mouth.
With a nod, she took her husband's arm and stepped back.
“I am certain you will be able to reassure her. The rest of the evening will go wonderfully I am sure, and no doubt everyone will have forgotten about this in the morning.”
This was not something that Joseph could hope for, but all the same, he appreciated the remark.
Quickly catching the attention of the guests, he announced the start of the dancing and then stepped away.
He could not remember whether or not he was due to dance the cotillion with any particular young lady, but nor did he care.
The only young lady he wanted in his company was Lady Florence.
By the end of the evening, Joseph was nothing if not frustrated.
He had not been able to find Lady Florence, nor had he caught sight of Lord and Lady Grangemouth.
They had certainly arrived, for he had greeted them all.
He was a little surprised that Lady Florence had rushed away from him as she did, but recalling her anxiety about social gatherings, he had set that aside.
Now, however, he felt a deep regret that he had not found her sooner.
“Good evening, Lord Applegate.”
Glancing to his left, Joseph nodded. “Lord Stirling, Lord Chester, good evening.”
“A magnificent ball.” Lord Sterling shifted from left to right, swaying slightly. “Apart from that mishap with the cake, it has been an exceptional evening.”
Joseph grimaced. Lord Stirling was clearly in his cups already, which meant that he would not be careful about what he said. “Indeed.”
“It is just as well you have set aside Lady Florence.” Lord Chester put a hand on Joseph's shoulder. “Had you done so, you would now be facing as much ridicule as she, I am sure.”
This only made Joseph's grimace deepen into a scowl.
“That young lady is someone to be avoided.” Lord Stirling rolled his eyes. “There is always some trouble wherever she is, for she lacks elegance. I do sometimes wonder if she can put one foot in front of the other!”
A swell of anger bit down hard on Joseph's heart. “Are you quite certain that she was responsible for the cake?”
“Well, I did not see it myself, but that is what is said,” Lord Stirling replied, blinking heavily now.
“And who told you?”
Lord Stirling shrugged and looked away.
“Why are you so concerned, my friend?” Lord Chester eyed him, but Joseph was in no mood to explain.
“I think it is only fair that the blame is set upon the right person’s shoulders.”
“I see.” Lord Chester nodded and then looked away. “You will be quite furious, I am sure, given that you had done everything so well, and I am sure you will not much like it!”
Joseph frowned. “I will not much like what?”
Lord Chester’s eyebrow lifted. “Why, being criticized and whispered about in a disparaging manner,” he said, frankly.
“You have always done that, have you not? I have certainly heard you speak in such a way before about this person or that, about some soiree or ball or occasion. This time, it shall be you who will have to endure the censure, Lord Applegate.” A quirk of his lips suggested to Joseph that he was almost delighted at this notion. “I wonder how you shall manage that.”
A knot began to form in Joseph’s throat, forcing him to swallow again and again.
Was there truly a sense of gladness in Lord Chester’s voice?
Was he relieved that Joseph would have to accept what he had so often given to others?
Lowering his head, Joseph could only nod, his shoulders rounding as a deep sense of shame began to cling to him.
It covered him entirely and, as Lord Chester and Lord Stirling moved away, he himself felt stuck to the floor.
There was a weight in him that had not been there before, a heaviness that he did not know what to do with.
Whilst he had recognized his critical spirit, he had not realized just how much upset and displeasure it had caused others.
If Lord Chester was pleased that Joseph would have to face such a thing, then no doubt there would be many others feeling that way also.
Perhaps there would be some almost gleeful at his failure, near rejoicing over what he would now have to face!
Joseph closed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose.
It was as if someone had cleaned a grubby mirror and now the true reflection of himself was in front of his eyes – and it was not a reflection he delighted in.
For many years, he had thought himself the epitome of what a gentleman ought to be.
Now, however, he saw just how much he had failed.
“Lady Florence, yes!”
Hearing her name, Joseph’s head shot up as he dropped his hand to his side, looking all around to hear who it was that had said it. Catching sight of three gentlemen laughing uproariously, he began to draw near, only for a young lady to step beside him.
“We are to dance, Lord Applegate?”
Joseph blinked, looking down at her dance card, which she held out to him, reminding him of his requirements. “I was not dancing the cotillion.”
She smiled brightly at him. “It is now the polka, Lord Applegate.”
Letting his gaze return to the three gentlemen, Joseph took them in for a long moment, telling himself that he would return to them and demand to know what they had said of Lady Florence.
With a nod to the young lady, he offered his arm and led her out to the floor, wishing desperately that he could be anywhere other than dancing the polka at his own Christmas ball.