His rage mixed badly with the ale and left him feeling sour.

CHAPTER FOUR


Their Majesties King and Queen of Alucia were pleased to host a royal ball celebrating the nuptials of Crown Prince Sebastian to Lady Eliza Tricklebank at Constantine Palace. The guests included dignitaries and heads of state from European and Asian capitals, and a healthy contingent of English nobility.

The wedding cake was made of five tiers and towering three feet, adorned with marzipan gold doves that appeared to be flying around the cake. Guests feasted on fine Alucian beef and

Krantanhange,

a delicacy made of potato, leek and asparagus. The ball was performed by a ten-piece orchestra, and a mix of Alucian dances and the standard English fare of waltz and minuet rounded out the sets.

A new bachelor has emerged as the most eligible from the fraternity of princes. Judging by the number of Alucian heiresses casting kohl-lined eyes in his direction and flocking to the side of this debonair prince, one might assume with utmost certainty that wedding bells soon will ring again in Helenamar.

It is noted that Alucian women do not shy away from cosmetics to enhance their appearance. Upon observing the beauty of Alucian women, we can highly recommend the application of almond complexion cream to one’s face every night before sleeping.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

CAROLINE’S GOWN FOR the wedding ball was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. The pale blue-and-gold Alucian style was cut so tightly to her figure that she could scarcely breathe. But she didn’t care—so many ladies and gentlemen would admire her in it that it would be worth the discomfort.

She’d commissioned the gown for such a dear sum that she’d been compelled to convince the modiste to submit two invoices in two separate months, each for half the amount, so that her brother Beck would not know the true cost. He tended to be very cross when she purchased clothing and sundries. And as the train had not suited her, Caroline had made her own. It was, in her eyes, a work of art.

As she’d readied for the ball, she tried to entice Hollis to admire the gown, too, but as usual, Hollis was bent over paper, writing furiously, capturing every moment for her gazette.

Hollis’s periodical had been originally established by her late husband, Sir Percival. His publication had been a once-monthly conservative gazette that highlighted political and financial news in London. After his tragic death in a carriage accident, Hollis refused to let the gazette go. She was determined that the paper survive to honor Percival. However, she didn’t know a lot about politics and finances, so she turned the gazette on its head and dedicated it solely to topics that interested women. Now the gazette was bimonthly with more than three times the subscriptions of Percival’s and growing.

Caroline took it upon herself to point out how stunning was her gown. “Look at how beautiful I am!” she declared, holding her arms wide. “I think my gown is as beautiful as Eliza’s. Don’t you?”

Hollis barely looked up. “I can’t see the gown, really—I am blinded by your modesty.”

Caroline snorted. “Someone must make note of this gown, and if no one will, I will.”

“The gown is stunning. But Beck is right, Caro—you are terribly vain.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault, is it? I’ve been so long admired that I can’t help but believe my appeal.”

Hollis looked up, surprised by Caroline’s lack of humility.

Caroline laughed. “I was teasing you, Hollis, although you must admit there is some truth to it. Now will you look at my gown? Frankly, it’s better than even yours, and I thought yours was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Your gown is always better than mine,” Hollis said, and leaned back, examining Caroline from head to toe. “You’re right. It is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Caroline said, and dipped a small curtsy. She whirled back to the mirror, and in doing so, caused one side of the train to come unbuttoned and fall. “Oh bother.”

“Come,” Hollis said, gesturing her forward like a child. She refastened Caroline’s train to one of the buttons meant to keep it from dragging twenty feet behind her. “Remember, no sudden movements. They come undone when you twist and lurch about.”

“I do not lurch, and you remember to put your pencil away tonight,” Caroline said. “It’s the royal wedding ball, Hollis.”

“As my sister is the bride, I am keenly aware of the occasion, darling. And I am dressed for it, as you can see. But I will not risk forgetting a single detail! The only way to ensure that I don’t is to write things down as I observe them.”

Hollis’s dark blue eyes flashed with determination. Caroline knew that she wanted more than anything for her gazette to be taken seriously by everyone in London.

Ah, but Hollis looked so much like Eliza, even though her hair was so darkly brown it looked nearly black, whereas Eliza’s hair was the color of spun gold. The sisters were very comely women. If Caroline didn’t love them so, she would be envious. “You know, darling,” Caroline said slyly, “if you were to look up from your notes, at an event like this it is quite possible that you might meet your one and only.”

Hollis gasped as if Caroline had slapped her. “How dare you even suggest it, Caro! Percival was my one and only, and there won’t be another! It’s not possible there will ever be another love like what we shared.”

Caroline turned slightly so that Hollis could not see her roll her eyes. The way she went on about her late husband was enough to make womankind across the globe give up any hope of finding perfect love, because Hollis and Percy had taken it and locked it away, never again to be experienced in this world with the same intense passion.

And yet there were some—including Caroline, frankly—who believed that the beautiful Widow Honeycutt had found her next love in her houseman, Donovan. Everyone who had ever called at Hollis’s house noted the striking good looks and virile physique of her butler. Or manservant. Or cook—whatever role it was Donovan filled. Hollis was rather vague about it, and Donovan was slavishly devoted to her. Caroline assumed he and Hollis were having a forbidden love affair. She certainly would be tempted if she were in Hollis’s shoes. A woman of her standing would not publicly consort with a manservant, but behind closed doors, well... Hollis was a widow after all.

“Keep your mind to your one and only,” Hollis muttered.

Caroline didn’t say anything. She supposed it was possible—after all, important gentlemen of all stripes would be in attendance. So would that wretched Prince Leopold, who always looked so detached, as if he thought himself above everyone else in the room. All right, she would concede that by virtue of his very good looks and his princely title he was above most, but he wasn’t a king, for heaven’s sake. But never mind him. She refused to think about him another moment. She had thought about him entirely too much in the last few weeks when she should have been thinking about much more important things.

She examined her reflection in the mirror. She practiced moving, taking care to dip this way and that, not only because of her elaborate train, but also because her décolletage, dear God, plunged so low that it was entirely possible that everyone at the ball would spot her navel.

Beck would be so displeased with it. She smiled.

She was equally certain that if Prince Leopold saw her, he’d be very pleased with her figure...if he wasn’t already swimming in his cups. He seemed to swim in them quite a lot.

It was getting the prince to see her that was the bother. Not that she cared if he did, but it was the principle of it. They were practically kin now, and yet she had the distinct impression he didn’t care for her. She couldn’t imagine why not. She hadn’t done anything untoward. She hadn’t spread awful rumors about him. She hadn’t committed any social faux pas in his presence.

She could never seem to get as much as a moment with him—he was constantly surrounded by footmen, Alucian gentlemen, and women. Scads and scads of women. Why were there so many women in the world?

Caroline grew restless, and as Hollis could not be persuaded to stop making her notes, she would not wait politely for Beck to arrive. So she went out of their suite and wandered down the hallway without Hollis even noticing.

Caroline had discovered in the last month that there was a point in the upper floor hallway that curved around an opening beneath a glass cupola in the roof, built to allow light to the floors below. At a particular bend in the hall, one could look over the balustrade and see down two floors below, to the entrance to this part of the palace.

She and Hollis and Beck were housed in a private wing of the palace, where family guests and some members of the extended royal family resided. Caroline liked to watch people come and go without being seen herself, as the shaft of sunlight made it difficult for people below to see up to the top floor. Standing here is where she’d seen Lady Senria Ferrassen arrive one evening in the company of the king’s equerry, and the two had parted with a quick and furtive kiss. Another blustery afternoon, she’d seen three chambermaids meet in the foyer and whisper excitedly to one another before all three of them disappeared quickly and in different directions when Lady Senria entered, her hair mussed, her cheeks rosy.

As Caroline was already dressed for the ball, she didn’t venture any farther than that point on the balustrade, hiding in plain sight. She wanted her gown to be seen for the first time when she made her entrance to the ballroom, as it ought, for maximum impact. At this hour, however, most were preparing for the evening or had already walked the distance to the main palace ballroom. There was nothing to see below, save the occasional footman or chambermaid hurrying across the black-and-white marble floor.

She grew bored with it and was turning to go when the entrance door swung open and a man walked in. He paused in the middle of the foyer, pushed his fingers through his dark brown hair, then settled his hands on his waist. That man, much to her great surprise, was clearly Prince Leopold. What was he doing at this hour dressed like that? He was wearing plain clothes and his hair was disheveled, and he stood a bit unsteadily, as if he’d just heard some bad news. And then, without warning, he looked up.

He looked up and directly at her with his ocean-blue eyes, and Caroline felt the intensity of his gaze radiating through her. She made a tiny little squeal of surprise and jumped back, clapping a hand to her heart. But she just as quickly surged forward and looked over the railing again. He was still there, and he suddenly smiled so charmingly and with such warmth that she quite lost her breath for a moment. He was actually smiling at her. And in response, she felt a very happy smile forming on her own lips. She could feel all sorts of things stirring, really—a laugh of delight. A gasp. A tingle in her groin.

“It would appear you’ve caught me, then,” he called up.

Caroline giggled. She didn’t know what to say for once. To agree would be to admit to spying. She would say that she was just passing by, or—

“I’ve caught you at your pleasure, I should hope,” responded a familiar voice.

Caroline gasped and jumped back again. That was her brother’s voice, and it came from the floor directly below her. He was undoubtedly on his way up to fetch her. She further realized that the prince had smiled so beatifically not at her but at her brother. At Beck! Blasted Beck! Always in the way!

“You could say,” the prince agreed.

“You’re to the ball, are you? I understand there is to be some high-stakes cards in the game room.”

Caroline backed away from the railing and began to hurry down the hall as quietly as she could, cursing the rustle of her skirts. She didn’t hear what the prince said in response, because her heart was thudding in her ears.

She burst into the suite of rooms she shared with Hollis.

“Lord, Caro, look what you made me do!” Hollis exclaimed crossly, and abruptly stood. Ink had spilled on her paper.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Caroline pressed her hands to her abdomen in the vain hope to temper her breathing, trying to catch her breath from the surprise. Where had the prince been, anyway, dressed like that? She’d wondered what had become of him during the reception. She’d been speaking with the Weslorian ambassador to England, telling him the story of the country house party at which a horse had run wild with a man on his back, necessitating rescue by no less than four gentlemen, when she noticed Prince Leopold was no longer visible from the corner of her eye. And when she turned to have a closer look, he was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped out without her noticing! Not that she was watching his every move, because she was not. She just had a tendency to notice things.