Amanda L.V. Shalaby

by Rhianna

  Katie blushed. “The servants are having their own ball, of sorts. From the attic rooms, you can hear the music clearly. If you sneak away at all, come find us.”

  “I shall,” Rhianna smiled.

  With that, Katie disappeared as silently as she had come. Not wishing to keep Lord Kingsley waiting, Rhianna allowed only a parting glance out the window before leaving hastily for the ballroom.

  • • •

  The ballroom was all splendor and elegance. The chandeliers were lit, the decorations were opulent, paintings and priceless art were uncovered, and the orchestra was in position. Everything seemed full of liveliness and joy. In a short period of time, the room was a sea of ribbons and gloves, bonnets and feathers. Girls arrived whom Rhianna thought herself privileged to look upon. How lovely they were, in their satin, gauze, and crepe dresses! Broad lace outlined many of their small figures, and voluminous petticoats were not wanting. Many wore gold combs or coronets of silver filigree in their hair, and tiaras and wreaths of flowers were in abundance.

  Rhianna observed one girl in particular, Miss Austine Leighart, daughter of Lord Leighart of Norwich, whom with both fairness and fortune on her side had the power to capture everyone’s attention. With soft features, blond hair, and wearing a string of expensive Italian pearls, Miss Leighart complimented her physical appearance with social accomplishment and grace. Rhianna imagined she made women envious and men wild, but that all in the assembly could not but admire her above the other girls.

  Rhianna made her way through the room to Guilford Kingsley, who upon seeing the gown Lady Brighton had chosen, appeared very much pleased with its effect. She admitted to herself she was flattered to hear him describe her as “highly becoming,” though Rhianna noticed his eyes frequently and unsettlingly seemed to be cast upon her brooch. Lady Brighton was quick to find them both and voice her own satisfaction in the most indulging expressions, contributing to the warm flush in Rhianna’s cheeks long after leaving to make her rounds of the room.

  Black jackets and white cravats were plentiful among the gentlemen. Yet, though all wore their best formalwear and top hats, there was no man present who could match Thayne Brighton in his vest and dress coat. Rhianna first caught sight of him speaking with Miss Leighart and even she could not but admit he was looking his best. His sartorial splendor was second only to his statuesque frame and symmetrical features. His expression seemed inviting as he conversed with Miss Leighart, and Rhianna wondered what his opinion was of her.

  Although vaguely aware her glance was lingering, she was not caught out of it until Lydia Kingsley took notice. “They are intended for each other, you know,” Lydia told her.

  Swiftly did Rhianna lower her eyes, the words themselves hitting her with surprising unpleasantness, but eclipsed by her being found thus absorbed.

  “They would make an excellent couple,” she returned, mildly humiliated, before finding Lydia already conversing with a nearby acquaintance, her back turned.

  Resultantly, Rhianna was unable to allow herself another look in Thayne’s direction for some time. Meanwhile, Guilford Kingsley, oblivious to this exchange, provided her with a program and dance card, while busily introducing her to various arrivals. Several gentlemen wrote their names on her card at once. As they did so, Rhianna was shocked to overhear a few gossipy, older women considering her own best potential matches and forming wild speculations regarding her upbringing and education. It seemed because of her they would have plenty to entertain themselves for the whole of the evening.

  Regardless of this last, Rhianna was so enraptured at the affair overall that she presently recovered from her awkward moment with Lydia. Until this point, she had had not a moment to concern herself even with her upcoming dances with Desmond Kingsley, but she soon recalled her misfortune after spotting him conversing with an older gentleman near the card room. Lord Whitehall of London was a large man, with a suspended middle and a thick, fleshy neck that nearly concealed his entire cravat. He held a very high seat in Parliament and his family had known the Kingsleys for generations. His wife was also in attendance, as well as his mother, a gravely frail, old woman who took considerable risk venturing into the cold to attend, but she claimed she “would not miss Claude’s cooking for all the world.”

  Soon, Guilford Kingsley made his wish of commencing the ball known. Turning to Rhianna, he asked, “Are you engaged for the first dance?”

  “I believe I am, sir, to Lord Kingsley.”

  This seemed to please him and he took a moment to catch his son’s eye. Desmond soon realized the dancing was to begin and he hastened to his father’s call and Rhianna’s side. Taking her hand, he mentioned something about forgiving him for the delay and “how very charming” she looked. The next moment, he was escorting her, to her mortification, to the front of the set.

  “Without a doubt,” Desmond gloated, looking her over, “you are the most handsome girl of the night.”

  “Your compliments are more than a stretch, Lord Kingsley,” she replied, hoping to discourage any such statements from him.

  “Are they? I have observed guests stopping mid-sentence at the sight of you.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “You are a humble creature, aren’t you? It escapes you, does it, that your natural beauty, enhanced by this costume and a pinch of mystery, attracts the notice of everyone present?” Rhianna met his gaze, as she often did, with speechless amazement, as he added, “You put Miss Leighart to shame.”

  These last words were whispered just as Miss Leighart herself, coupled with Lord Thayne Brighton, joined the set. Horrified that she should be placed before them both, Rhianna prayed Austine Leighart would not discover her situation until they no longer stood side by side.

  “Lord Kingsley has an intriguing partner, indeed,” said a less-than-enthusiastic Austine, in an undertone to Thayne. “Pray, who is she?”

  Rhianna happened to overhear and distress nearly overtook her. How would Thayne Brighton explain her? Mortification was averted as, incredibly, he made no effort to promote her position as governess in the Kingsley home, as she expected of him. Instead, his answer was simple, even evasive, and his tone neither mocked nor judged.

  “You must mean Miss Braden,” he returned. “I understand she is come from France.”

  This seemed to be the end of the investigation. Austine did not seem to wish to know more, at least from Thayne, and the conversation moved on as the other couples also assembled in line. Desmond, for his part, grumbled about most of them, and mocked the rest, much to Rhianna’s abhorrence.

  “I cannot believe that Miss Leeds has the audacity to come and dance! She is very nearly thirty. I shall certainly never stand up with her.”

  “Lord Kingsley! How can you be so cruel?”

  “Cruel? No, indeed,” Desmond laughed. “At least, no more than every other male in this room. You may not hear their thoughts, but I daresay, in this matter, I have declared the sentiments of them all.”

  The music began. Guilford Kingsley opened his ball with a quadrille and at once the room was in motion. Rhianna tried desperately to immerse herself in the harmony of the piano, violin, and cello, ignoring Desmond as much as possible. Her heart beat severely as the moment neared for the surrounding couples to focus on her and Desmond’s performance — but when the time came, Desmond led her masterfully and she could not but be comfortable with his style and grace. How confident he was, how easeful! He told her continuously how well she danced and how everyone must be in awe. Though his comments did little to calm her, she found that with his skill she was able to survive it.

  • • •

  Half an hour or more passed when, at last, the first dance was completed. It was now Desmond’s turn to choose a dance and none would be chosen until he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room.

  “I propose,” said he, speaking to the crowd and pausing for effect, “a waltz.”

  Shouts of approval issued forth from the masses
and the musicians did not hesitate. Music erupted forth as Desmond took Rhianna’s hand and led her once again to the floor.

  Rhianna could not look forward to dancing it. In only a few instances had she ever waltzed, and it had been uncomfortable enough even with Philippe. Now to be forced into it with Desmond Kingsley! It called for more courage than she believed she could muster. Her sole comfort was that it was the last she would have to dance with him for the rest of the evening.

  Most dancers remained with their original partners. Miss Leighart appeared somewhat flushed and Rhianna observed Thayne gesture toward the refreshment room. She was astonished to discover that she was so absorbed with Austine Leighart’s declination, and Lord Brighton subsequently placing his hand upon her waist, that she was fully unaware of Desmond Kingsley performing the same action with her until they began to dance.

  Frequently, she caught herself watching Lord Brighton and Miss Leighart as they floated along the floor, their movements elegant, polished. Thayne returned Rhianna’s glance on more than one occasion, and smiled each time. She wondered if he was truly smiling at her, or had been smiling from some witty remark of Miss Leighart’s when their eyes happened to meet. Regardless, Rhianna smiled in return.

  But what began as a curiosity started to happen so often that Rhianna fought herself not to look at Thayne Brighton, and in consistently failing to stop herself, found his eyes were always upon her. At length, their smiles faded, their eyes locked, and a connection of unknown meaning was bridged between them.

  “Oh!” Austine Leighart suddenly stopped dancing. “My dress!”

  Thayne looked down with alarm and noted, with one false step, he had torn the hem of her gown. With a profusion of apologies, he led her off the dance floor to Lady Kingsley, who undoubtedly assisted her to the cloakroom for mending.

  This was enough to break Rhianna’s spell. The event did not escape Desmond’s notice and Rhianna discerned he gave Thayne an unfriendly glance.

  “I do believe everyone is desperate to dance with you,” he said to her, irritably. Then, in a softer tone, Desmond added, “Oh, come now, you cannot blame him. And you mustn’t blame yourself. You can hardly help it. In fact, if I were you, I would expect to be the cause of at least a few more ripped hems before the evening is out.”

  Even if, for a moment, it had crossed her mind, Rhianna was in no way going to adulate herself by accepting she held responsibility for Miss Leighart’s torn gown. Besides this, she certainly did not want to hold a conversation with Desmond Kingsley over it.

  With a quizzical brow, she replied, “I cannot imagine what you must be thinking.”

  “Thinking? Not at all. Thinking is the very thing we men are unable to do in your presence. We are quite handicapped tonight. Surely, you must know this.”

  “You flatter me excessively, Lord Kingsley.”

  “Do I, indeed? Or have you so thoroughly deceived yourself as to the power of your allure?”

  This statement perturbed her, but she was too terrified to know his meaning to allow herself to reflect on it, at least, while they continued to waltz.

  “Oh, certainly, the allure of my connections and inheritance is very great,” she laughed, hoping with all her heart that this reminder would deter him from any unwanted advances.

  “I doubt you shall want a partner all night,” Desmond predicted.

  Whether he knew it or not, his statement would indeed prove true. Rhianna did not want for a partner the whole of the evening, even if she did not choose to dance all twenty-five dances.

  In response, Rhianna politely shook her head. “No, sir, there can be no convincing me of anything you are saying. No one in this room is more aware of how undeserving I am of being here than myself.”

  “Undeserving? My lady, let me not hear such words spoken from you again. How very peculiar you are. Have you no idea of your worth? Have you no idea what an honor and privilege it is to be of your acquaintance? No, I see you do not.”

  “How you exaggerate!” she cried. “Such nonsense I have never heard. I can barely listen to you.”

  “I do not exaggerate, nor have I ever. I only beg you let me show you …”

  A pause was necessary at this point, for the dance was over. The music concluded and applause issued forth from the crowd.

  When it died down, and as new partners were chosen, Desmond leaned toward her ear, and said, “I could give you so much, if only you would allow me.”

  “What do you mean, Lord Kingsley?” she asked pointedly.

  He kissed her hand and smiled. “Desmond,” he replied, with a wink.

  With this last, he disappeared into the assemblage, leaving her with no more than her own thoughts. How any one person could be so plain in meaning, yet, at the same time, so very vague, she hardly knew. One thing she quickly settled upon was that, for a man of his situation, it was unthinkable that he should reduce himself, nay, be so imprudent, as to sincerely address himself to his sister’s governess. Of this fact, she could be certain. She also trusted she had given no encouragement for such intimacy as he was now taking the liberty of engaging in with her. This may not have been of any consequence, as Desmond Kingsley did not seem the type to wait for encouragement. Still, there was the question of his intent, and Rhianna examined with a degree of distress the one possible arrangement he might have in mind.

  Before she was able to worry herself beyond her ability to conceal it, Mr. Weathersby approached her for a dance. A tall, thin man who had known Lord Guilford Kingsley since youth, Mr. Weathersby was a likeable gentleman. Grateful not to be left alone, she accepted readily, and thus continued the ball. Fourteen dances were played, and Rhianna neither saw nor spoke to Desmond again until supper, where some few times she noticed him intent on making eye contact with her. She felt sure that given the opportunity to speak to her in private, he would undoubtedly revive the most unwelcome conversation.

  Several dinner courses were served: endless quantities of soup, cheese, and oysters were provided, and Claude’s veal was much talked about. Many of the guests were unable to decipher whether the food really was excellent and not just because their wine informed them so. Nevertheless, all were enjoying themselves immensely, and the old women and the young looked forward with eagerness to the time when the dancing would resume.

  Despite Desmond’s remarks of earlier, Rhianna allowed the melodic harmony of Vivaldi and Bach to penetrate her spirit. The masterpieces played that night could not but calm her soul. This second part of the evening ball found her more at ease with her surroundings, as well, because Lord Kingsley had introduced her to many more guests, and there were thus fewer strangers.

  It was not until late in the evening that, drained from the activities, she escaped to a quiet seat. Her last partner, a young baron from the neighboring town of Bromley, brought her some refreshments before fulfilling his obligation to dance with another young lady. His wishes to remain seated with Rhianna were discernible through his effusive apologies for being otherwise committed. Despondently did he depart from her and lead his new partner to the floor.

  Rhianna was not sorry to see him go. There was something magical in observing a Kingsley ball as a spectator and she enjoyed having the moment to herself.

  Never, she thought, I shall never forget this night.

  She enjoyed watching the happy couples as they skipped and twirled, the pastel gowns of the ladies offering just a faint splash of color against the gentlemen’s black wardrobe. It was the perfect evening. Her seat, too, was perfectly situated far from Desmond Kingsley, who danced with a Miss DeWitt, rumored to be the lady that Lord and Lady Kingsley wished to secure for their son. Rhianna thought that was an excellent idea and hoped it would happen for them sooner than later.

  Many of the older guests had long since scurried to the card tables, including long-time friends of Guilford Kingsley, Lord Whitehall and his mother, Dowager Lady Whitehall. Lady Whitehall, an eccentric, talkative woman, equal to her mate in measurements and over
all embarrassing to those associated with her, was vocal that she would not miss a moment of the ballroom’s liveliness for the world. She was, at this time, commanding a conversation among her contemporaries on the evening’s entertainment, at a table not far from Rhianna. Rhianna decided to amuse herself by listening in on their conversation.

  “Never have I seen such a skilled group of young dancers as are gathered at this ball! My word, the Kingsleys have done such a lovely job of collecting them together! See how gracefully they proceed — separate when required, together when required. Whatever the dance demands, no movement eludes them.”

  In her ramblings, she went on to comment specifically on Miss Leighart and another well-bred lady, Miss Mina Selwyn.

  “Excellent examples of English nobility! Sheer excellence! Also, that young lady who began the ball with Desmond Kingsley — she is unfamiliar to me — how very flawless!”

  “Oh, yes,” cried another woman. “She gives Miss Leighart quite the run for her money. Who can tell me about her? I have not been able to get a word of information.”

  Rhianna instinctively covered her mouth with her hand and laughed at their ridiculousness. She wondered what they would say if they knew the details of her identity.

  For a short while, her musings were uninterrupted. Time enough passed for her to become fairly absorbed in them so that when someone did approach to speak to her, she was taken by surprise.

  “How is it that you are not dancing, Miss Braden? Your countless partners have fatigued you, I daresay.”

  Roused from distraction, she turned to find Lord Thayne Brighton standing beside her. As he addressed her, she could not tell if she now felt awkward or completely at ease. She had seen him only occasionally since the incident with Miss Leighart, who often flirted with him between dances.

  “You are very observant,” she replied. “And what of yourself? Are you not dancing?”

  “Dancing,” he then answered, “is all well and good. Interesting conversation, however, is what I am now seeking.” He gestured to sit with her. “May I?”