T
he evening’s entertainment was announced by Berwick; it was to be a display of naval prowess on the lake, designed by Prince Ferdinand.
“The gardens in the dark?” Lady Starck said, sniffing again. “My daughter will certainly not participate. We shall retire.”
“When one is older, one simply
must
rest one’s bones,” Henry said. “If you wish, I will chaperone your daughter for you.”
Lady Starck took a deep breath, which had the unfortunate effect of swelling her more-than-ample bosom.
“Darling,” Henry said kindly, “I’m afraid you’ve suffered a wardrobe malfunction.”
Lady Starck glanced down at her right nipple, which was staring like a fish eye over the ruffle edging her bodice, and slapped her napkin over her chest, surging to her feet. “Effie, come!” she said, with all the authority that Kate tried to use with Caesar.
It worked about as well for Her Ladyship as it did for Kate. “Mama, I should dearly love to see the naval display,” Effie said, her voice soft but firm. “I shall be perfectly safe under the chaperonage of Lady Wrothe.”
“We shall guard your treasure very carefully,” Lord Hathaway said. He was standing, of course. As soon as Lady Starck’s nipple made its appearance, all the gentlemen leaped to their feet, though Kate knew that it was ostensibly in response to the lady’s departure.
“I doubt it will be a long performance,” Henry put in. “We’ll all trot back to the house in a few minutes.”
“Very well,” Lady Starck said, her napkin still clutched to her breast. “Effie, I expect you to come to my chamber the very moment this naval spectacle is finished.”
“I will, Mama,” Effie said, sounding very cheerful.
“I don’t think you have that story right,” Kate whispered to Henry as they strolled from the dining room. “Effie can’t possibly have groped Lord Beckham under the table. She’s not that sort of woman.”
“She wouldn’t know what she was groping for, would she?” Henry said. “It must have been someone else. But I’m right about the fact that Dante is ripe for plucking
and
that the two of you are quite suited. Don’t you see what will happen to him if he marries her?”
“He’ll be happy,” Kate said. “She’s quite sweet, in a somber kind of way.”
“She never laughs unless someone else gives her a cue,” Henry said, sounding genuinely dismayed. “And I like Dante. He’s grown into a very decent fellow. When he was just five years old, he used to lean on my knee and ask me to tell him another story.” She narrowed her eyes. “Of course, I was a mere toddler myself. If you
ever
tell anyone that I am old enough to have told Dante stories, I’ll be forced into an act of violence.”
“What kind of violence?” Kate inquired, fascinated.
“I’ve got the measure of you,” Henry said. “You don’t like dogs, but you’re doing your best with those little mongrels of your sister’s. You don’t care for lions, but you’re championing for a bigger cage. You wouldn’t even let the nasty blackbirds be made into a pie in order to restore the dignity of the vicar. It would be easy to put you under my thumb; all I’d have to do is threaten to throw Coco onto the King’s highway.”
“I would save Coco only because my dowry is glued to her neck,” Kate said. The disconcerting thing was that Henry was right, of course. That was how Mariana had kept her under her thumb all these years: by threatening to dismiss a footman, or the housekeeper, or even dear Cherryderry.
They were walking out the back of the castle now. Stretching before them were the pale marble steps descending to the lake. They shimmered the color of pearl in the light of torches that lined the stairs.
“What on earth have you done with Coco, by the way? She never came back to my room.”
“She’s right here,” Henry said smugly. “And what a good girl she is; no one heard a peep from her during the meal.” She turned around and crooned, “Come on, darling.” Coco pranced out before them, her tail waving.
“What’s she got around her neck?” Kate asked. “And on her leash?”
“Ribbons and flowers to match my gown, of course,” Henry said. “Her jewels are all very well, but a lady needs a new
toilette
in the evening. So my maid soaked off the jewels and replaced them with a flower called lupine, which sounds like a half-deranged wolf, but is actually beautiful and matches my costume perfectly.”
“She looks as if she’s stuck her head through a funeral wreath,” Kate pointed out.
“Coming from a woman wearing a wig the color of a gooseberry, that means little,” Henry retorted.
“I have to wear a wig,” Kate said firmly. “I’m incognito.”
“You make it sound as if you’re working for the Foreign Office,” Henry said. “Now what are you going to do to dislodge Effervescent Effie from Dante’s arm? She’s attached like a limpet.”
Kate shrugged.
“No wonder you’re unmarried at the ripe age of twenty-three,” Henry said. “Leo, come here!”
Her husband, who was ambling along behind them, looking just slightly tipsy, stepped forward next to Kate. “Yes, love?” he said.
Kate liked that. She could tolerate a husband who drank too much if he called her love and looked at her the way Leo looked at Henry. As if he’d be there for her, always.
“Can you shake some sense into my goddaughter? She’s practically as old as I am, and yet she’s lazy when it comes to marriage.”
Leo twinkled at Kate. “Henry likes marriage,” he said, taking her arm. “That’s why she’s done it so many times.”
“I wouldn’t have had to if men lived longer,” Henry said.
“Is there anyone you’d particularly like to marry?” Leo asked Kate.
The prince, Kate thought—and quelled the thought in horror. What on earth was she thinking? It was just that kiss . . . that kiss. . .
“No one in particular,” she said firmly.
“What about Toloose? He’s a decent chap,” Leo said. “My house at Oxford and all. Going to be a viscount someday.”
“You went to Oxford as well?” Kate inquired.
“A double first in philosophy and history,” Henry put in. “Never marry anyone with fewer brains than yourself, darling. It always ends badly.”
“If my wife had gone to Oxford, they would have had to create a triple first,” Leo said.
“What did you say?” Henry asked.
“In seduction,” he whispered.
Kate giggled, and Lord Hathaway turned around and looked back at them. It might have been her imagination, but he looked as if he were longing to know the joke.
“Kate can’t marry Toloose,” Henry said. “For goodness’ sake, Leo. The man’s got a wandering eye. I can assure you of that.”
“All eyes wander in my wife’s direction,” Leo sang tunefully.
Henry reached past Kate and poked him. “But they don’t wander into your wife’s bed, so be happy with that. Now, my idea is that Kate should marry . . .” She nodded at Lord Hathaway’s back.
“Really?” Leo said, a trifle doubtfully.
“Why not?”
“I was listening to the dinner conversation,” Leo said, “and it seemed to me that Miss Kate has a great deal of wit, as my grandmother would say. She reminds me of you, m’dear.”
“Well, I did hold her during her baptism,” Henry said. “Maybe I rubbed off on her.”
“And
you
would not be happy in such a marriage,” Leo continued. “The man in question is a brave and gentle soul, no doubt. But in a matter of ten years he will be falling asleep in a chair by the fire, after spending supper deploring the make of his boots.”
“Unkind,” Henry said. “Very unkind.” But she was laughing.
“I should enjoy that,” Kate said firmly. “I have very few ambitions, and if I knew my husband was asleep in a chair opposite me, I would cheerfully doze off myself. What I do not want is a husband who is out offering sugarplums to other women while I am at home alone.”
“Sugarplums,” Henry said. “One could almost think that you meant something metaphorical, dearest Kate.”
“Kate?” Effie suddenly said, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you calling Miss Daltry Kate? How sweet; is that a family name?”
“Absolutely,” Henry said, smiling at her with tigerish emphasis, all her teeth showing. “I am her godmama, after all. I have pet names for all my dear ones.”
“She calls me her sugarplum,” Leo said.
Effie was tripping down the steps again, so he added: “But I made her stop: altogether too soft and pillowy for, ahem, someone like me.”
Kate couldn’t help laughing.
“Too small too,” Henry added proudly.
They had reached the bottom of the steps and were greeted by Berwick. “You are fortunate to have arrived so promptly; you needn’t watch from the shore but can actually join the entertainment,” he said. “If you would follow me.” He took them a short way around the lake and stopped before a gilded boat whose elaborately carved prow arched high in the air. The seats were padded luxuriously and set at an angle; presumably they would all recline.
“That looks like a very, very small Viking ship,” Leo said.
“I’m fairly sure the Vikings were an industrious lot,” Kate said, basing that on a book she’d read from her father’s library. “This looks more like Roman decadence to me.”
“The Vikings?” Henry asked. “Who on earth were they?”
“Your ancestors,” Leo said. He whispered something in her ear and she gave him a little slap.
“What did he say?” Kate asked, following Henry into the boat.
“Something about rape and pillage,” Henry said. “As if any of my partners ever lacked the proper enthusiasm!” She sat down in the carved seat that made up the stern of the boat and snuggled Coco onto her lap.
“If I didn’t know you better,” Kate said, “I’d think you were in love with that dog.”
“She and I understand each other,” Henry said loftily. “Besides . . .” She scratched Coco under one ear. “She’s quite affectionate, isn’t she?”
“She wasn’t with me,” Kate said. “You’re making me miss Freddie. He looks at me with those same eyes.”
“I’m very fond of unquestioning adoration,” Henry said. “One can’t have too much of it, from dogs or men.”
Lord Hathaway scrambled onto the boat and sat down next to Kate on one side of the boat. Algie, following him, sat next to Effie on the other side. Leo would have taken to the life of a Roman statesman; he dropped next to Henry, stretched his legs out, and said, “I like this kind of military entertainment. So different from what one expects, i.e., violence and general hardship, not to mention hardtack.”
“What are we doing in this boat?” Effie asked, sitting bolt upright rather than reclining on the padded seat. “Wouldn’t it be better to watch from shore? The lake is so black at night.”
At that moment a footman leaned forward and lit a torch on the shore before their boat, and then a torch actually attached to the prow of their ship. They both leaped into flame—blue flame. Effie screamed.
“Don’t worry, Miss Starck,” Algie said. “It can’t hurt you.”
“Why is it blue?” she whimpered.
That stumped Algie, leaving Leo to drawl, “They’ve put some powder in with the oil. See, some boats are flaming red and others blue. There appear to be four of each.”
Algie was busily patting Miss Starck’s arm. “My fiancée is just the same,” he said. “Ladies are delicate and frighten easily.”
“Your fiancée doesn’t look frightened in the least,” Effie pointed out, narrowing her eyes at Kate.
Kate realized that was her cue to look timid, but couldn’t manage. “I do believe that we are part of a naval flotilla,” she said. “Look! We’re the blues.”
“What I can’t figure out,” Lord Hathaway said, “is how we’re going to take our places on the lake. Unless we’re meant to—”
But at that moment the boat rocked, very gently, and began to pull away from the shore, as if drawn by an invisible hand. Naturally, Effie screamed again. Algie had taken her hand now, and was patting it madly.
“You’re going to give her a bruise,” Kate said.
“It’s magic!” Effie cried.
Hathaway was craning his neck around the side of the boat. “Though magic sounds very delectable, in fact, we’re attached to a rope,” he reported. “There must be a man on the other side of the lake, drawing us over.”
“And look,” Kate said, “the other boats are all coming out too.”
From around the perimeter of the lake, boats flaming red or blue were slowly moving toward the center.
Effie asked the obvious. “What if we all crash? I wish we weren’t going backwards. I don’t like sitting backwards in a coach either. I always make my maid do it.”
“I can swim,” Algie announced.
“Obviously we’re not going to crash,” Henry said. “Although, Leo, remember that if you have to tow me to shore, you’d better not forget my darling Coco or you’ll wish you’d sunk.”
It was a good thing that Victoria had never appeared to care overly much about her dogs; it seemed likely that Coco would never darken the door of Mariana’s house again.
A boat slid by them, red flame dancing over the excited faces inside the boat. The prince wasn’t among them, though it was a weakness of Kate’s that she even noticed.