Page 26 of Taken to the Grave
“Is it fair to say the Viscount Neatham is off the market, Your Grace?”
A light bloom of perspiration dampened the back of Audrey’s gown—a vivid burgundy organza—when she considered it possible that a rumor had reached the lady’s ears about the proposal. Next to Audrey, Genie and Michael wore twin looks of distaste for the countess’s direct probing question.
“I have heard that the viscount has not been very active this Season,” Audrey replied, attempting to skirt around an answer. And to prevent Lady Beauchamp from asking anything else, she said, “I have also heard Princess Esterhazy is in attendance tonight.”
In her peripheral vision she saw Genie’s glance. The countess also betrayed a look of surprise, though quickly followed it with a bright smile.
“I see,” she said, drawing out the two words. Audrey wondered what, exactly, she saw…but then, at the countess’snext words, realized her blunder. “An introduction to a patroness at Almack’s is in order, especially now that you’re out of mourning. Come with me, Your Grace.”
Lady Beauchamp started through the crowd, expecting Audrey to follow. She did, though not without an inward groan of regret. Almack’s Assembly Rooms were the highlight of the Season, where women of the ton—mostly debutantes—would go when they were entering the marriage mart. Admission to the balls at the assembly rooms was only granted by voucher, and those vouchers were given to select members of the ton by a handful of patronesses. These women, belonging to the upper echelons of society, were revered, though Audrey believed that was only because they alone could provide inclusion into London society, or exclusion from it. Princess Esterhazy was one such patroness.
As Lady Beauchamp led Audrey through the drawing room toward a large group, she began to feel slightly ill. By asking about the princess, she had insinuated that she wished for an introduction, and ultimately, a voucher to attend Almack’s. And the only reason she would wish to attend Almack’s, would be to seek a new husband. That she had mentioned the princess immediately after dismissing the countess’s question about Hugh, also indicated her disinterest in the viscount.
Before the ball was over, that nugget of gossip would be known by every last guest. And it would surely find its way into the gossip columns in tomorrow’s newspapers.
“Your Royal Highnesses,” Lady Beauchamp said as she inserted herself into the closed circle surrounding the patroness. The conversation that had been underway was cut short, exacerbating the interruption. Audrey tried to tamp down the blush creeping up her chest, to her neck, and its ultimate destination—her cheeks—for all to see.
“May I present Audrey Sinclair, the Dowager Duchess of Fournier.” The countess stepped aside, as an invitation for Audrey to come forward. She did so, albeit hesitantly.
The princess, Maria Theresia, assessed her with inquisitive, if icy, attention. With her short stature, dark eyes and lashes, black glossy ringlets, and full figure, she appeared doll-like and much younger than Audrey, though she knew her to be in her late twenties. In comparison, her husband, Prince Paul, stood much taller and was well into his thirties. He wore a somewhat more welcoming half-grin, but it was clear that they were guests of some honor here and held a good bit of social power. Though Audrey did not in any way wish for a voucher to Almack’s, it was a believable reason for an introduction to the princess.
“Your Royal Highnesses,” she said, addressing them both. “It is a pleasure.”
“Am I correct that you are recently out of mourning, Your Grace?” the princess asked immediately, without allowing a single moment to pass after Audrey’s greeting.
“That is correct,” Audrey replied.
“My condolences to you,” she said stiffly. “It must be gratifying to be out in society again. You visited Vauxhall of late.” It was not a question. So, she had seen the lamentable cartoon, had she?
“I have,” she replied, but was at a loss for what more to say. Not speaking of the body found would be seen as an attempt to conceal what everyone already knew. To speak of it would be inappropriate.
Thankfully, Lady Beauchamp swooped in and rescued her, although unknowingly. “Isn’t it dreadful about the murders there? As I have always said, Vauxhall would be better served by following Almack’s example. Letting in anyone at all only ensures a breakdown in civility.”
Again, the princess spoke so quickly, she practically trod upon the heels of the countess’s statement. “The commoners must have their entertainments too. I simply question why those of our set feel the need to share them.”
It was a thinly veiled cut at Audrey for being at the pleasure gardens to begin with. The princess held her stare for another moment, to make sure it was received. She spoke as though she knew everyone was hanging onto her every word.
Audrey had not come to this dinner party to be scolded or spoken down to by the princess. Trading barbs was not worth her time. Some women in the ton thrived on these sorts of dramatics. Audrey loathed them. She’d come here to speak to the prince and finagle a way to learn more about Lord Stromburg, and so far, she was no closer to doing so.
Genie and Michael had been slow to follow Audrey, but they now stood among the circle of guests surrounding the prince and princess. They needed no introduction to the royal couple as they had met previously. Audrey used the protracted moment to change the subject.
“Perhaps Vauxhall is a destination one must see for oneself, at least once,” she said, then turned to Prince Paul. “I hear an acquaintance from your homeland has been visiting London. Did Lord Stromburg wish to see the pleasure gardens?”
It was hardly an artful question, but after the prince’s confusion over Audrey’s knowledge of Stromburg’s visit played over his features, he nodded slowly. “Why yes, indeed. I do believe Lord Stromburg enjoyed the pleasure gardens once or twice while he was here.”
“He is no longer in London?” Audrey asked.
“No, he was called back to Budapest.” His confused expression then cleared, and he turned to Michael. “Ah, yes, you met Stromburg once or twice, did you not, Your Grace?”
The new Duke of Fournier replied that yes, he had, but as she had before, the princess galloped over his reply and loudly complained of requiring another glass of wine. As the attention gathered back onto Princess Esterhazy, Michael slid his suspicious glare toward Audrey.
She pretended not to see it. Prince Paul and a few of the gathered men stepped into another conversation, taking Michael with them. That left Audrey and Genie with Lady Beauchamp, the princess, and two other women whom Audrey did not know.
“I was under the impression His Grace did not care for Stromburg,” the princess said to Genie, one thick, dark brow arched over a shrewd eye.
“Really? The duke did not give that impression to us, did he?” Audrey said, imploring her sister-in-law with a widening of her eyes to go along with the lie.
To her credit, Genie gave a serene nod. “Indeed.”
