Page 54 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy was vaguely aware that she ought not to be doing this. In other houses, she might well be dismissed if she were caught.
Still, most of the servants secretly dreamt of spying on the fine parties the ladies and gentlemen threw, without being forced toserveat them.
The ballroom was a huge room, with a balcony rounding the upper half of the room. Lucy happened to know that the balcony would not be used during the soiree, as it was quite high up and the railings a little flimsy. She waited until most of the guests had arrived and then, heart pounding, climbed up the narrow back staircase which led to the balcony.
Nobody will be looking up,she told herself.
The noise of chatter, laughter, and music drifted along the staircase. When Lucy finally stepped out onto the balcony, the noise took her breath away.
The room was full of people, the scents of food and fresh-cut flowers and greenery mingling with perfume and drifted upwards. She inched towards the railing, risking a peek downwards.
The gowns were beautiful, swirls of every colour a person could think of, in the finest materials. Ladies’ hairs were piled up into elaborate styles, glittering with pearls and little glass ornaments and evendiamonds, each one different and breathtakingly beautiful.
The repast arranged upon the refreshment table appeared most delectable – jellies of various hues, diminutive cakes adorned with rich frosting, and dainty morsels for nibbling that she’d never tried and couldn’t identify, and of coursechampagneand punch and fine wines. The proper supper wasgoing to be even better, too – Lucy had seen them preparing it in the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. There hadn’t been much time for the servants to eat, what with getting everything ready. Of course, there would be endless leftovers for them to tuck into, and Lucy had already learned that the servants were encouraged to polish off any leftovers if they wished, to prevent waste.
Of course, that didn’t help her hungernow.
Scanning the room, Lucy found her mistress. Patrina was talking to a gaggle of well-dressed young ladies, looking very confident and happy, saying something which made them laugh. She was standing near the corner of the room, where a comfortable seat had been placed for Lord Morendale. He was watching Patrina talk, a strange, soft look in his eyes.
Lucy bit back a smile. She knew, of course, that the marriage between Lord Morendale and her mistress was a marriage of convenience, but she wasn’t blind. They liked each other, very much so.
Next to Lord Morendale stood Harry Westbrook, his red hair vying for attention despite the subdued black suit he wore. He was alert, gaze scanning the ballroom. Nobody talked to him, and Lucy felt a twinge of outrage on his behalf. He was a steward, but he was still arelativeof the Tidemore family. Why should he be ignored?
As if sensing eyes on him, Harry suddenly glanced up, looking straight over the heads of the crowd. Ather.
Lucy flinched, darting downwards to huddle behind the railings. When she gathered the courage to peer into the ballroom again, Harry was gone from beside Lord Morendale’s chair.
Her heart thumped.
Am I in trouble? Or is Harry’s disappearance nothing to do with me? Perhaps he just has some work to attend to.
Minutes ticked by, and Lucy was just starting to lose her nerves and relax into watching the party when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She huddled down again, cursing herself for not leaving when she had the chance.
She wasn’t entirely surprised to see Harry appear at the entrance to the balcony.
She was, however, surprised to see that he had a tray in his hands. It was laden with good things – jellies, cakes small pies and so on. There was a bottle of champagne tucked under his arm.
“I have a feeling you aren’t meant to be up here,” Harry said, grinning.
“I’m not,” Lucy confessed. “But haven’t you ever wanted to attend one of those parties?”
“I do attend them. I’m sure you saw me down there.”
She grimaced. “Yes, but I meanproperly. As a guest, with nobody expecting you to work or defer to others while you’re there.”
“I’m afraid I’ve seen too much of these parties to want to join them,” Harry sighed, setting down the tray on the ground. “Besides, certain parties have made it abundantly clear that I am not welcome here, either at this party or in this family.”
Lucy frowned. “Who do you mean?”
“Who do you think?”
“Lord Clayton Tidemore and his mother?”
Harry forced a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “They are not fond of me. They don’t like to be reminded that we’re family.”
Lucy bit her lip. “You ought to tell Lord Morendale. He cares very much for you, and he wouldn’t like to hear that you’re being treated so badly.”
