by Jo Beverley
“A bird can also walk,” she said, trying to pull her arm free. “Stop this. People are noticing.”
“Noticing one of our lovers’ games.”
“I was never more serious, my lord. Let me go.”
He released her and she turned to walk away. She’d taken only one step when a tug on her gown halted her. He’d put a foot on her dovetail train.
Without turning, she said, “Release me, sir, or I will scream.” She was obliged to speak loudly and could have wept with fury at being made the center of a scene.
At least he obeyed. She whirled to give him a very sharp piece of her mind, but found him red faced and choking, because a Neptune was dragging him back by the wings, which were supported around his neck.
Dracy! But, by the stars, he looked fit to do murder.
“Let him go!” she cried.
Dracy did, adding a shove. “Fly away, angel, or you might find yourself with your fellow, Lucifer.”
Sellerby turned on him, fists clenched, but Madame Cornelys swept in. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! This is a festival of harmony. Will you fight over a dove?”
Someone drew—compelled—Sellerby away. Another man attempted the same with Dracy, but Georgia went to him. “Thank you, my lord Neptune.”
“I couldn’t see the dove of peace assaulted, especially tonight,” he said clearly for all to hear.
“And I shall reward you with the first dance,” she said, offering her hand.
He took it, kissed it, and then led her away from the stares and whispers.
“I would like to kill Sellerby,” she hissed.
“You might have good reason to.”
But she’d remembered the wager. She paused to grin at him. “I know you, Dracy.”
“I already knew you.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Would I rescue just any dove? You’re too fond of birds, my sweet.”
“Damnation,” she muttered, and he laughed. “I renounce birds forever. As for recognition, I’m sure I’d have riddled out the Neptune as soon as I saw you, though your lack of a trident is cheating.”
“I came with one, but Madame Cornelys and her people are confiscating all weapons. Wisely, as it turned out.”
“I doubt Sellerby came armed. An angel, after all.”
“Haven’t you heard of flaming swords? What was he up to?”
“I don’t know. We were talking about costumes. I admit I laughed, but it wasn’t exactly at his costume, but at angels. A joke with Lizzie, that’s all. He took it amiss, but then we conversed. Squabbled over something. Ah, yes, would you believe he bribed someone to reveal my costume? Positively dastardly. Then when I walked away, he tried to stop me.”
“I’ll deal with him.”
“No violence,” she said, gripping his arm. “I’ll have no more violence over me.”
He put a hand over hers. “Then there won’t be.”
She looked directly at him for the first time and smiled. “A gray beard and mustache? I don’t think it suits you.”
“It’s beginning to slip and a prickly nuisance.” He grabbed one side and ripped it off. “There. That’s better. The things I do to win a wager.”
“But who’s won?” she challenged.
“Perhaps we both have. Fifteen minutes each?”
She went hot and cold at the same time, an extraordinary sensation.
She should say no, she should say no.…
“Very well,” she said. “When?”
“After this event is over.”
She’d expected that, wanted that, but now pattering panic tangled her tongue.
“Delaying will change nothing,” he said.
“Everything can change in a moment. We both know that.”
“So we do. Then carpe diem, Georgia. Let’s pay our debts tonight.”
“Seize the night, you mean. Very well. As soon as the house is settled I’ll come to you.”
Chapter 23
A change in the music heralded the dancing, and all around revelers shed the more cumbersome pieces of their costumes into the arms of waiting servants. There was much laughter and some genuine surprise and even applause as identities were revealed.
Georgia let Dracy help remove her dove’s head and then put on the slim feather mask instead. Dracy passed the dove’s head to Jane, who had joined them to help with the unveiling and was grinning at the show around her. Then he put his seaweed wig headdress on top.
His green mask cleverly hid almost all his scar, all except the slight twist to his lips. As a result, she saw only clean-cut beauty, framed by thick, curly hair that hung loose to his shoulders, sending her heart pattering for new reasons.
“I do believe that in times of yore you could have grown a periwig of your own.”
“I can’t imagine living with that much hair to take care of. I’ve been tempted at times to shave mine off and wear a wig.”
“No,” she said, before she could control it.
He smiled. “You like my hair.”
She could hardly deny it.
“I like yours too, though it’s a shame it’s powdered.”
“For disguise. For the whiteness of the dove.”
“I can’t admire your scarlet lips.”
She rapped him with her fan. “Don’t echo Sellerby.”
“’Struth, did I? You can punish me with forty lashes.”
“You’re echoing him again.”
“I’ll cut my throat. Let’s dance.”
They went hand in hand into the ballroom for the first dance. Everyone placed importance on the first dance, and Georgia was delighted to be with Dracy. After all, it fit with their pretend betrothal, and if people were thinking that Lady May was having to settle for a lowly husband, let them. They’d see the truth in time.
And yet, her high ambitions felt strangely hollow.
“Don’t let the oafish angel clip your wings,” he said softly.
She smiled at him, encouraged by him, anchored by him, and ready for all her challenges, both here and later. She would have liked to stay with Dracy all night, but after the first dance, she had to accept another partner for the next.
Waveney, Porterhouse, and Shaldon competed for the honor, which salved her pride. She chose Shaldon. A dance with Waveney would upset his wife, and Porterhouse, in a plain toga, felt too safe. Shaldon wasn’t a safe man, but she understood him. Dracy was captured by a Queen Bess who was actually showing her nipples beneath the most gossamer silk gauze. She was sure he’d enjoy that.
“Causing fights, Georgie?” Shaldon asked as they took their places.
“Is everyone speaking of it?”
“Alas, yes.”
“A curse on Sellerby,” she muttered. “Why would he behave so ruinously?”
When the dance brought them together again, he said, “Desperation. I never had any hope, but he did.”
“I never gave him reason,” she protested, but then remembered to smile.
“You are reason, unless a man has a very strong head.”
And she’d delighted in it, she admitted as she wove the patterns. Perhaps her beauty was a cursed gift, but she couldn’t wish it gone.
She danced next with Harringay, another safe partner. She enjoyed it, but she’d feel she was making progress only if she was asked for a dance by someone who was not a close friend.
She saw Beaufort in a nondescript toga, and Bridgwater in a robe with various engineering implements dangling from a belt. She suspected he was representing the Grand Engineer.
Neither approached her.
At least Richmond came to speak to her. His toga was silk, and he wore a golden wreath in his hair that might truly be gold. They were discussing the costumes when a man said, “A plain white gown with a ragged overdress. You are meant to be…?”
Georgia whirled. “Perry!” She managed not to fling her arms around her brother, but she felt as if all clouds had blown away. Perry was back and he’d make sense of an insane worl
d. “How dared you stay away so long?”
“It’s only been three weeks,” he complained, “and over a week of that was travel there and back.” He greeted Richmond, who was as delighted to see Perry. Her brother was an arbiter of fashion and style.
“That’s why no one ever goes so far from Town,” Georgia said. “And the roads are appalling in the north.”
“They’re appalling in many places,” he said, looking her over. “I still wonder at your clothing.”
“With the headdress it was a wonderful dove of peace, wasn’t it, Richmond?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Brilliant as always.”
“As for you,” Georgia said to her brother, “that’s your Dionysus costume from the Olympian Revels. I expect more novelty from you.”
“Have pity. I only arrived back in Town this afternoon.”
“A paltry excuse.”
“A sound one.”
A buxom young lady in extremely filmy robes “accidentally” brushed up against Richmond, and in moments he was off with her.
“She should be dressed as a fox,” Georgia said.
“And he as a chicken? His guardians will keep him safe from predators such as that. I’m surprised you were dallying with him. A new taste for the infantry?”
Georgia glanced around to be sure no one was close enough to hear. “I’m rather short of admirers.”
His brows rose. “Delusions?”
“No. The scandal. Now you’re back, I’m sure we can do something. You are staying in Town?”
“Of course.”
“Did you hear about Sellerby?”
“No.”
“He…Oh, it’s too complicated, but he spread word that we were to wed and is generally behaving like a lunatic.”
“You shouldn’t have—”
“Encouraged him. I know, I know. Then there was the letter incident at Winnie’s ball.”
“In a pickle again?” he said with a smile. Then, “Now what has you in a giggle?”
“Pickle!” she gasped, trying to control herself. “That was Dracy’s last ship. Can you believe it?”
“Ceddie Dracy? No—”
“The new Lord Dracy. Have you been so very out of touch? His horse beat Fancy Free.”
“Ah, I remember that. I have been busy, love, but I remember now. Naval officer. Captain of the Pickle?”
“Lieutenant only. Oh, and there’s something else. We are pretending that he’s first in the running for my hand. Don’t look at me like that. It is all Mother’s doing.”
“The world’s run mad and is best left for the morrow. What do you want me to do about Dracy?”
“Nothing. He’s not a problem. In fact, I like him. I…I do worry that this device might break his heart.”
“Not if he has any sense.”
“He’s very sensible. Apart from a fixed dislike of Town.”
“A madman, then,” he said with a smile.
“He makes no secret of it, can you imagine? He’s anxious to return to his muddy estate.”
“Then doubtless he and the mud deserve one another. Ah, what’s this?”
Footmen were passing through the rooms ringing small bells and announcing that the dove of peace would be displayed in the central hall.
“Me?” Georgia gasped in a panic.
“An automaton,” Perry soothed. “The king has sent that automaton that the Chevalier d’Eon presented to him a while back. The one representing peace and harmony. You must have been there.”
“No, I had a horrid sore throat. But I heard about it. Silver, mother-of-pearl, gold, and diamonds.”
“And like all women, your eyes glitter at the thought.”
“You’re not so indifferent to jewels, brother. Hurry, let’s get a good position.”
The hall was crowded, as were the staircase and the gallery around. People were seizing any spot with a good view of the huge silver dove on a plinth in the center. Georgia wanted to be close and wriggled through, hand in hand with her brother, pleased that she wasn’t wearing hoops.
“It’s very glittery,” she said when they were almost at the front. “Feathers made of mother-of-pearl and silver. Are those diamond eyes?”
“Probably not. Ah, Rothgar’s in charge of the display. I heard that he took the dove into his own workshop for improvement. As delivered, it was rather simple and awkward.”
“Then it’s probably improved,” Georgia said. “I attended a lecture he gave on such toys when he put some up for auction in support of the Smallpox Hospital. Dickon bought me one,” she remembered. “A pretty dancer. I’ve not seen it since.…It must have remained with the house.”
“That could be contested.”
She was tempted, for it was a pretty toy that held happy memories, but she shook her head. “Hush.”
The marquess made a short speech on behalf of the king, thanking them all for celebrating peace, prosperity, and the patriotic heart. But then he said, “As we have a charming dove among us tonight, I think she should switch on the machine.”
He was looking at her.
Georgia was swept by a prickly heat of nervousness and was shocked. Lady May, afraid of being so much the center of attention?
Perry took her hand and forced her forward, so she summoned Lady May with gracious posture and a bright smile. Perry handed her up the steps and Lord Rothgar showed her the switch.
“You need only push it down, Lady Maybury.”
It moved easily, and with a whirr of machinery the bird flexed its neck this way and that.
“It should have real feathers,” she murmured, but then pressed her lips together to silence any other unwise comment.
Then the bird lowered its head, seized an olive branch off the ground in its beak, and straightened as it spread its wings to reveal words picked out in gold underneath.
Peace. Paix.
Everyone applauded, including Georgia, for it was prettily done.
Then Madame Cornelys announced that Signora Terletti would sing a new song in praise of peace composed by Mr. Clemson. As the lady swept toward the dais, Georgia happily went down, Lord Rothgar at her side.
They listened to a blessedly short song and applauded the performance. People then dispersed—to refreshments, cards, or dancing, or to simply sitting in various small rooms, many talking politics.
Lord Rothgar smiled at her. “You’re correct about the feathers, Lady Maybury, though real ones do tend to fall apart in time, whereas silver and mother-of-pearl should last longer than any peace ever has.”
“An interesting dilemma, my lord. Perfection in the moment, or compromise and long delight.”
“Repeated in much of life. Welcome back to Town, Perriam. I thank you for your efforts on behalf of my wife.”
Georgia looked between them. Perry and Diana Rothgar?
“I also saw benefit to my friend Malzard, my lord.”
“How blessed we are to gain numerous benefits from one act. Speaking of which, I’d be obliged if you’d wait on me tomorrow.”
Perry bowed. “Your servant, sir.”
Rothgar bowed in return and moved away.
“What was that about?” Georgia demanded.
“Diana Rothgar was visiting her northern estates, her baby with her, when the infant started a tooth. I rescued her from an inn in York and took her, her entourage, and her howling, drooling monster to Keynings, the Earl of Malzard’s place. My dear sister, that journey was a noble sacrifice.”
“And the benefit to Malzard?”
“His wife needed a cloak of approval. I’ll tell the whole story later.”
“I may get it from her—Diana Rothgar, I mean. She and I are acquainted.”
“Oh, yes, Danae House. Ask her about the pageantry in Darlington.”
“Do they have pageantry in Darlington, wherever that is?”
“Ignorance is never a matter for pride, Sister.”
“A convert to the wonders of the north, are you?”
“It was a
pleasant diversion.”
“But now you’re back where you belong. Why are you summoned to Malloren House?”