like a hyena.
He never did make it back to his suite of rooms that night.
The Royal Masquerade Ball at Kensington Palace included banqueting in a room that boasted wall coverings in rich red and gold, contrasted by tables set in snowy white linens and silver. Guests availed themselves of the twenty-foot buffet serving meats, cheeses, sandwiches, biscuits, sweet meats, towering cakes in delightful shapes, and the evening’s most favored delectable, the royal tipsy cake, served on plates of fine bone Limoges china, and finished in 22 carat gold, produced in France for Her Majesty the Queen.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
THE DISCOVERY OF food was another delight for Eliza. In addition to being a wee bit in her cups, she was famished. With the excitement of the day on her mind and an extraordinary amount of time required to prepare, she’d not eaten a thing since morning. She wandered up and down the tables laden with food prepared by the palace kitchens, filling a plate well past the amount of food that was considered polite for a delicate woman to take. Well, she was not a delicate woman and she was hungry and she was terribly blasé about her personal circumstances. It wasn’t as if she was hoping a gentleman might notice her and consider her a worthy prospect for marriage—Eliza knew better than that. She was eight-and-twenty, on the shelf, unremarkable, plainly dressed, and undesirable to anyone in this crowd. She appealed mostly to the Mr. Norrises of the world, who assumed, given their widowed status and her spinster status, that she would be delighted to clean their chamber pots and darn their socks. No, thank you. Her life suited her well enough and allowed her to eat at royal balls without qualm.
She had settled with her plate of food near the door, at a table that had been set a little away from the others to clear space for those wishing to exit the room. It was there, behind her sandwich, that she noticed once again the enthusiastic, slender Alucian gentleman who had been the one to make introductions to the prince. He seemed far less enthusiastic now. He was standing in the hall, and she wondered what he was doing, when suddenly a veritable armada of Alucian gentlemen came striding down the hall, the prince at the center. The slender Alucian quickly stepped into their path, and Eliza realized he’d been standing there so that he could intercept the prince.
Once again, the prince seemed impatient with the slender man, and very subtly tried to move around him. But the slender man was determined to have his say. Eliza took a rather large bite of her sandwich, chewing enthusiastically, and watched as the man spoke and the prince responded, and then stepped around him. Nevertheless, the prince hesitated before he moved along, but move along he did, and the slender man appeared a bit dejected, judging by the way his shoulders sagged, and he stared down at the floor as guests streamed around him.
Eliza didn’t think she cared much for the haughty prince, in spite of his fine green eyes. She wondered where he was off to at such a clip.
The slim man suddenly looked up and through the banquet hall door. His gaze seemed to land directly on Eliza. She froze, a chipmunk with her cheeks full of sandwich. Was he looking at her? It was difficult to tell with the mask. Surely not.
Well, if he was, he was frightened off, because he suddenly turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction. He walked up to a round Englishman and whisked him off to the side of the hall for animated discussion.
That porcine Englishman seemed terribly familiar to Eliza. She called up many faces in her head as she tried to sort it out.
“There you are!”
The shout startled Eliza so badly she fumbled her sandwich.
“Dear Lord, what are you doing, Eliza?” Caroline exclaimed in horror. “You’re eating as if you’ve not dined in weeks.”
“I’m hungry,” Eliza informed Caroline. “The food is delicious. I want to try everything.”
“Well, it looks like you have everything on your plate.” Caroline sat heavily beside Eliza with a sigh. “I’ve danced to the point I don’t think I can take another step.” Even though her mask was slightly askew, Eliza thought Caroline was particularly lovely tonight. But that was Caroline for you—always impeccably dressed. She had the good fortune of fine looks and a fine figure. Even in her bedclothes and her hair tangled around her, she was quite lovely. She was tall and lithe, and her pale blond hair was put in loops above her ears, anchored there by the velvet ties of her gold mask. Her gown was made of gold and white muslin, and gold velvet ribbons wrapped around her sleeves. She wore a single strand of pearls around her neck.
But it was her mask that stood out above all else. It was a work of art. It was shaped like the oversized eyes of a cat and was covered in the same material as her gown. Cascades of beads hung from the corners and bordered the full mask.
When they’d dressed for the ball, Caroline had taken an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, admiring herself from all angles, making slight adjustments to her gown and mask, depending on her perspective. “Madam Rosenstern made the gown especially for me, especially for tonight,” she’d informed Eliza and Hollis.
Caroline suddenly reached for Eliza’s dance card dangling from her wrist. “Eliza! You’ve only three of them filled!”
“I was forced to dance a polka,” Eliza said, and took another bite of sandwich. “Have you any idea how dreadfully I dance a polka?”
“I know how dreadfully you dance, darling, but I rather thought you’d do well enough with a quadrille, and yet, you haven’t a partner for that dance. We must find a hostess—”
“No!”
“And will you put down the sandwich? A gentleman will not be inclined to consider a lady for a dance partner, much less a potential wife, if he fears he must feed her as much as his livestock.”
Eliza put down her sandwich. “If a gentleman considers me for a potential wife, he must also consider that I eat. This may come as quite a shock to you, Caro, but I did not come to this ball in search of a husband. I came to meet a prince, and that, I have done. Twice over,” she added pertly.
Caroline gasped. “You have? When?”
“When I was avoiding the ballroom hostess. Look there, do you see that thin Alucian gentleman speaking to the fat Englishman?”
Caroline looked around. “Which one?”
“One of his hands is in a black glove and he holds it at his side.”
“What of him?”
“He was the one making introductions to the prince. Who, by the bye, has shaved the beard you swooned about.”
“Ah. To add to his disguise, I suspect.”
“Who is the gentleman speaking to?”
Caroline sat up a little straighter to see. “If I am not mistaken, that is Mr. John Heath, the banker. You’ve met his daughter, Lucille, haven’t you?”
Eliza shook her head.
“No?” Caroline leaned forward and whispered, “The poor dear has been
