Page 50 of Betrayal from Beyond
“Almost ducal.” He planted a kiss atop her head.
“Almost,” she agreed, tilting her head up for a proper kiss. “But it’s the missing part that makes usus.”
Not long afterward, they arrived at the gala to find carriages lined up to reach Soho Square.
“Should we walk?” Kara asked. “It’s a fine evening, and Gyda urged us to come as early as we could. She’s to meet the Duke and Duchess of Stratton tonight, and she’s quite nervous about it.”
Niall handed her down and they made their way slowly to the museum. Footmen kept the gawking crowds back, but the event was obviously going to be a crush. The spacious front room was filled with a sea of well-dressed and well-heeled guests. Lord Charles’s family and friends, probably, but also some other, no-doubt-curious members of the aristocracy had turned out. They mixed with members of the artistic community, scientists, inventors, and even a few industrialists.
“Perhaps they are looking for new designs or the latest technology to adapt,” Kara whispered to Niall, nodding toward a group of fellow factory owners.
Maids and footmen circulated with glasses of wine and champagne. Kara took one, and she and Niall joined in as everyone raised a glass and toasted Ansel Wells, Lord Charles, and the success of the museum. Afterward, they drifted through the main hall. Kara noted the many attendees admiring the art, and she grinned to herself to see the crowded corner where Mr. Sculley’s work hung. People there were whispering, giggling, and peering over each other’s shoulders. She thought she spotted the artist, but he was quickly swallowed up in the crowd.
“Kara! Niall!”
They turned to find Gyda beckoning them. She stood near the performance/creative alcove. Tonight it was occupied by a jeweler and looked to be proving a popular draw. Waving, they made their way through the throng to her.
“Oh, Gyda,” Kara said. “You are breathtaking!”
Gyda and Elsie had raced to finish the Nordic gown—and Gyda looked like a Viking warrior maiden come to life. Her blonde hair was caught up in elaborate braids that hung down over her traditional dress. She wore a cream-colored underdress with long sleeves ending in substantial cuffs of buff leather. The overdress was in her favorite dusky blue, with a similar cuff-shaped bodice of the same leather. This piece fastened to straps below the shoulder with two carved tortoiseshell brooches. Between them hung the strings of colorful glass and amber beads they had found for her during their travels.
Niall looked his assistant over with approval. “I’ll wager you are making many a man here wish he were a Viking right now.”
“Let them wish it.” Gyda snorted. “I’ve already informed two fools that Viking women handled the finances, oversaw the land management, and were involved in trading goods. They owned property and could request a divorce and reclaim their dowries if a man failed to live up to their expectations.”
“I’ll wager that cooled their fantasies,” said Kara, laughing.
“Well, it certainly rid me of their company,” Gyda replied. She looked around, anxious. “It’s going well, isn’t it?”
“It looks to be a smashing success,” Kara assured her. “You may relax. Look at all of these happy guests.” She glanced about. “But where is Lord Charles? We’ve yet to speak to him.”
“He’s gone to the back rooms. They’ve set up a telegraph back there. He is urging guests to send messages from one side of the house to the other. Stayme is back there, explaining how it works and sending naughty messages to ladies.”
Kara choked on her drink.
Beside her, Gyda stiffened. “Don’t look, but Charles’s mother is approaching. She seems baffled by me, but she brightened considerably when I told her I was close to the Duke and Duchess of Sedwick.”
Kara made a face. “We will try to behave.”
“Will we?” asked Niall.
“Niall!” Gyda jabbed him with an elbow.
“Fine, then. I am entirely too hungry to play nice. I see a tray of veal baskets over there. I’m going to make inroads on it, and then I’m going to go and proposition Stayme over the telegraph and sign itVictoria Regina.” Laughing, he moved off, but then stopped and looked back. “Gyda, did you order veal baskets tonight just because you know they are my favorite?”
“Yes,” she grumped. “Not that you deserve it.”
He stepped back, then took her hand and kissed it before backing away. “You are extraordinary. Don’t forget it.” He looked significantly over her shoulder before turning away and fleeing.
“Coward,” Gyda said affectionately as her name was called.
“Miss Winther, there you are.” The Duchess of Stratton went around a group of chattering guests to get to them. “Won’t you introduce me?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Kara nodded politely as Gyda made the introductions. Her friend did it with nary a witticism or sassy remark—a sure sign of her anxiousness.
“Your Grace,” Kara said smoothly. “What a delight to see you again.”
