Page 49 of A Torn Allegiance
“Of course we must, and it’s been done. We cannot uninvite him. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing—not really—but, Mother, I had hoped...” She frowned. “I had most sincerely desired to have an evening to myself. Or, rather, without...” She turned pleading eyes to her mother’s confused gaze. “Without His Highness.”
“Oh, I’m certain you will hardly notice him, not with our other special guest here. Come, do not let this bit of news disrupt our greatest triumph. I cannot wait to see the ladies’ faces when Sir Walter Scott arrives.”
“Yes, it is quite the coup.” Elsie tried to smile.
But would they care as much about the great Scottish poet as the famous crown prince of Oldenburg? She hoped her group would be more inclined toward the poet. But now Elsie’s feelings were even more in a jumble. The evening she’d hoped to help clear her mind of the prince would now be dominated by his presence. Her mother was correct in thinking Elsie would have no need to be disrupted at all by his arrival, but she would be, need or no. Every fall of the man’s hand, every glance in her direction, every smile or word or phrase would not be the small gesture that was intended, no. She would be aware of each, as though they were meant only for her eyes and ears, and would be inclined toward him the whole of the evening.
Lady Sophie arrived just then, and as soon as she was near enough, they linked arms.
“I have the worst news,” Elsie said.
“What is it?”
“Prince Hayes is coming.” She turned so she might see the news settle on her friend’s face.
But instead of disgust or impatience, happy expectation filled Lady Sophie’s face, and she whispered, “Oh, do you think His Grace will attend with him?”
“Yes, we have received confirmation the two will arrive together, but not the brothers. Goodness, are you enamored with the man?”
“What?” Her face colored prettily. “I enjoy his company, and when the prince is here, you are distracted by him, and I am left with your brother’s teases if I do not find company elsewhere. His Grace is highly accommodating and quite charming in his own way.”
Elsie studied her friend’s face. “But how am I to enjoy our meetings with the prince here... doing things?”
“What, precisely, will he be doing?” Her friend tilted her head. “Can you not simply occupy your time with Sir Walter Scott and leave the prince be?” Something about her seemingly innocent question told Elsie her friend might have other motives.
“Do you not see how this will be difficult?”
“I do not. Elsie, please. He is a good man. Take a moment to notice...” Her hopeful expression exasperated Elsie further. Could no one see things the way she did?
But her mother’s ready smile from across the room alerted her that the other guests had started to arrive. Elsie and her mother took their places at the back of the room with Lady Sophie at their side.
Chatter was immediate and friendly, as if following a great dearth of conversation. With great relief, Elsie was drawn in and almost forgot the impending arrival of the man she’d hoped to avoid, at least for a time.
Lady Gallach nodded approvingly, an expression Elsie had not seen on the woman before. “I just adoredThe Lady of the Lake. I have rarely read such engaging language, such clever turn of phrase—”
“And the rhymes!” Lady Bisby fanned herself. “I love a good rhyme.”
Both women were older, of her mother’s generation, and both loved to hear themselves speak. But after a time, some of Elsie’s set, those unmarried who participated in the Season, began to arrive, and Elsie smiled proudly at each one. They had been hesitant to attend the meetings at first, concerned about their marriage prospects, concerned others would label them bluestockings, and some came only with a request of secrecy from the others in the group, but each one was brave in her own way.
Elsie approached a group of three. “Oh, it’s been an age! I thought I would die of monotonous conversation at the ball.”
They laughed, and all heartily agreed. For a moment, they shared horror stories from previous balls. Lady Catherine, the youngest of them all, shuddered. “I was asked what skills I’d acquired and what I could add to an estate.” She shook her head. “I’m still not certain to what his question pertained, but I think he was enquiring after my needlework and pianoforte.” She laughed.
Elsie shook her head. “How did you respond?”
She lifted her chin. “I told him of my recent memorization of all of Wellington’s maneuvers in the last battle.”
They laughed.
“You didn’t!” Elsie could not have been prouder.
“I most certainly did.” She beamed with a wicked goodness that Elsie wished to bottle up and share with others. “At first, he couldn’t help but be impressed. And most interested. He found himself discussing war tactics before he stopped himself and turned a bit white. I could see the color leave his face. He closed his mouth and shook his head. ‘My apologies for discussing such things here, with you,’ he said.” Lady Catherine shrugged. “Nothing I could say would convince him it was I who had started such talk and therefore welcomed it.”
Her story was too similar to Elsie’s recent experience with the prince, but she suspected something stronger than mere adherence to propriety as the source of his reluctance. Or was he really more closed-minded about conversation with women than she gave him credit for? He’d talked so often and spoken so freely to others of her engaging conversations. How was she ever to know his true thoughts, really?
The room was filled by the time Elsie noted three new guests at the entrance to their grand drawing room. Right before the footman announced them, she was astounded to see Sir Walter Scott in deep conversation with the Duke of Sumter and Prince Hayes.
