“Not at all.”
Percy bore her off, and soon they took their places beside other equally colorful couples on the dance floor.
“Well, Hugh, which do you prefer, parsons or statesmen?”
“Considering the Regent’s problems with retaining statesmen of worth, I believe we should choose the latter and offer our services.”
“And would you recommend our good Percy to command the army?”
Hugh tied on his mask. ” ‘Twould give me great pleasure to see our dandy mount a horse in that getup.”
Julien’s deep laugh dissolved into a grunt of impatience as he chanced to look up and see Sarah beckoning to him in a most imperious manner. Hugh’s eyes followed Julien’s, and his nostrils quivered in anger. He frowned as he appraised her in her Cleopatra’s costume, trying to remember if it was an asp or a viper that brought about the queen’s demise. He became even more indignant when Lady Sarah blithely detached herself from her knot of admirers and calmly approached them.
“Don’t be so obvious, Hugh, in your condemnation. Percy informs me that Sarah grows tired of Sir Edward, and if she chooses to seek out old quarry, it must be dealt with.”
The two men’s eyes met through the slits in their masks, and though Hugh was uncertain of Julien’s intent, he was obliged to hold his peace.
“Do excuse me, Hugh. I hope this won’t take long.” Julien walked toward Lady Sarah.
“My dear Julien. Such a bore that you didn’t come as Caesar or perhaps Mark Antony. What a very attractive couple we would have made together.” She raised wide, wistful eyes to Julien’s face and sighed with soulful innocence. He thought it was a good act, one she’d perfected over the years, but it was getting a bit frayed now. He wasn’t moved a whit. Indeed, he found it silly, truth be told.
“You have need of no one to further enhance your image, Sarah. Does your barge await you outside?” Though he’d been scandalized by Kate’s costume, he was rather amused by Sarah’s outrageous daring and was unable to prevent his gaze from traveling the length of her flimsy, clinging gown. “And the gold toenails— quite the crowning touch for a queen.”
“Yes, are they not?” She was pleased at his masculine response, but not at all surprised. All men were alike, after all. Julien had just lost his way for a little while, nothing more. She laid her bare hand on his arm and said softly, “Won’t you dance with Cleopatra, my lord March? I vow she’s awaited your coming all this evening.”
“If you wish, Sarah. It’s just as well.” He slipped his arm about her slender waist and whirled her into the throng of dancers.
31
Lady Constance Haverstoke watched with glittering eyes as Lord March led Lady Ponsonby to the dance floor. She turned to her companion, Lady Victoria Manningly, and remarked complacently, “What is the saying about moths flying forever to a flame?”
“Lord March should take care, I daresay,” Lady Victoria said with pursed lips, “else he will find himself quite at odds with his new bride. That is she, is it not, over there?” She pointed to Kate’s gracefully swaying form, rendered less so by Percy’s ungainly costume. “She’s a very proud girl, I’ve heard it said, but of course not unbecomingly so,” she added quickly, remembering suddenly that for some strange reason Mrs. Drummond Burrell— that terrifying officious old goat— had taken an unaccountable liking to the girl.
Lady Victoria judged from Lady Haverstoke’s brazen attempt to draw attention to the earl and Lady Ponsonby that she wasn’t privy to this bit of information. It would serve her right, Victoria thought, if the earl’s bride were to cause a commotion. Certainly that cat Sarah Ponsonby wouldn’t show to advantage in the eyes of society. She wondered if perhaps she should drop a hint in Constance’s ear. She was surprised suddenly from her meanderings by the touch of Lady Haverstoke’s hand on her wrist. “Do but look, Victoria, March and Lady Sarah are leaving the floor.”
Both ladies watched in silence as the earl led Sarah to the large, curtained windows at the end of the ballroom, parted them, and slipped outside behind them.
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