Belgrave Square

“Yes sir,” Innes agreed obediently. “Poor devils.”

2

CHARLOTTE PITT was frantically busy. Her sister Emily, remarried less than a year after her widowhood, was now expecting a child, which was a source of great happiness both to her and to her husband, Jack. But since Jack had very recently committed himself to seeking nomination as a candidate for Parliament, her rather erratic health was something of an embarrassment. Her first pregnancy with Edward several years before had been relatively easy, but this time she was suffering moments of dizziness and nausea, and found herself unable to stand for the long hours necessary for greeting and receiving at all the sorts of functions it was required both to attend and to host, if Jack were to succeed.

Therefore Charlotte had accepted Emily’s offer of a little financial assistance to go toward employing extra domestic help in her own home, several quite marvelous new gowns, and the loan of three or four pieces of Emily’s jewelry, her first husband having been both titled and extremely wealthy. All of which was held by Emily to be a fair exchange for Charlotte’s time, thought and endeavor to act as hostess for her, or with her, when the occasion required.

Tonight was just such an occasion. Emily was lying in her room, feeling distinctly poorly, and this was the night of the ball she had arranged in order to meet several of the most important people in Jack’s campaign for selection. The seat for which he was hoping was a safe Liberal stronghold, and if he could obtain a nomination for the candidacy, when election time came he was sure to win, so the competition was strong. The Conservatives had not held that seat in decades.

This function was of great importance, therefore Emily had dispatched a footman with a letter only this afternoon, and now Charlotte was pacing the floor in the hall, her heart in her mouth with nervousness, going over arrangements for the umpteenth time. She looked yet again at the banks of flowers at the top of the stairway, in the reception rooms, in the withdrawing room and on the dining room table. The table had been a source of immense anxiety, even though it was Emily’s plan and the cook’s and the kitchen staff’s execution, yet Charlotte still felt it was her final responsibility.

All manner of fruit was arranged in with the mound of flowers so that the center of the table was covered from end to end with its gorgeous display. Around the rest of the surface were piled all the requisite delicacies: crackers, cakes and bonbons; fruit-flavored souffles, dazzling creams, bright jellies and foaming trifles in glass dishes; oyster patties, lobster salads, veal cakes; cold salmon, game pie, and fowls of several sorts, both boiled and roasted. These last had been carefully carved before having been brought to the table, and then tied together with white satin ribbon so they needed merely a touch of the hand to enable guests to help themselves to meat. Soup was the only dish that would be hot, and that would be served in cups for ease.

Also, naturally, there would be sherry, claret, light and sparkling wines, punch, fruit cups and gallons of champagne.

The Hungarian band was already present, partaking of a little refreshment in the servants’ hall before tuning up ready for the evening. The footmen were in their livery, hair powdered immaculately, the pink-and-silver lights were on at the front of the house, and Chinese lanterns in gay colors were lit in the garden for those who wished to take a little air.

She could think of nothing more to be done, and yet she could not sit down or relax in the slightest. It was a little before ten o’clock, and she could not expect even the earliest guests, those who quite pointedly felt they had somewhere better to finish the evening, to arrive for another hour.

Jack was in his evening clothes ready to receive his guests, and had gone into his study to ponder over the information he had been given on various people’s political interests, relationships and spheres of influence. There was plenty of time for Charlotte to go upstairs again and see Emily, and assure her one more time that everyone would understand her absence, and the whole evening would be an excellent success because her foresight and planning had been so thorough.

She went slowly up the great winding staircase, lifting her skirts so as not to trip on them, and along the balcony above, which was now decked with flowers. In another hour she would be standing there welcoming the guests and explaining herself, and Emily’s absence. Please heaven she would remember what the footman at the door had said were their names, or they would have the tact to introduce themselves again!

Up the next flight she turned left along the landing to Emily’s room. She knocked briefly and went in. Emily was lying on top of the bed in a loose, pale-blue-and-green peignoir, her fair hair over her shoulders. Her face was unusually pale and a trifle pinched around the nose and mouth. She smiled rather wanly as Charlotte came in and sat down on the bed beside her.

“Ah, my dear,” Charlotte said gently. “You do look wretched. I’m so sorry.”

“It’ll pass,” Emily said with more hope than conviction. “It wasn’t nearly so bad with Edward. I felt a trifle squeamish some mornings, but it was gone by ten or eleven o’clock at the very worst. Did you feel like this with Jemima or Daniel? If you did you were very stoic. I never knew it.”

“No I didn’t,” Charlotte admitted. “In fact for the first two or three months I felt better than ever. But you are very early yet. This might not last more than a few weeks.”

“Weeks.” Emily’s blue eyes were full of disgust. “But I’ve so much to do! This is the beginning of the season and I must give balls, receptions, and attend the races at Ascot, the Henley Regatta, the Eton and Harrow cricket match, and endless luncheons, dinners and teas.” She slid down in the bed a little, hunching herself. “Jack won’t get the candidacy if they think his wife’s an invalid. The competition is terribly hot. Fitz Fitzherbert is highly suitable, and under all that devastating charm I think he might be quite clever.”

“Don’t meet disaster halfway,” Charlotte said, trying to comfort her. “No doubt Mr. Fitzherbert will have his problems as well, it is simply that we do not know of them. But then it is our business to see that he does not know of ours. Let us just get this evening over successfully, and by next week you may feel much better. Everything is in good order, the table looks like a Dutch still life-it seems a shame to touch it.”

“What about the band?” Emily said anxiously. “Are they here? Are they properly dressed, and sober?”

“Of course they are,” Charlotte assured her. “They are immaculate, all in black with lovely blue sashes. And yes, they are perfectly sober-I think. Maybe one of the fiddlers was a touch more cheerful than is warranted so far, but quite well behaved. You have no cause for concern, I promise you.”

“I’m very grateful. But Charlotte, please, do be sweet to everyone.” She reached out her hand and took Charlotte’s. “However fatuous they are, or condescending, or whatever objectionable opinions they express? We cannot afford to offend them if Jack is to succeed. He is so new in the political arena. And some of the oddest people are highly influential.”

Charlotte put her hand on her heart. “I promise I will be the essence of tact and will neither express an undignified or unasked-for opinion about anything, nor laugh at anything at all except what was unquestionably meant as a joke.” She watched the tension ease out of Emily and the uncertainty change to laughter.

“I will not mention that my husband is a policeman,” she went on. “I know that is quite socially disastrous, unless of course he is of such senior rank, and a gentleman born, like Micah Drummond. And since Thomas is neither of these things, and both would be necessary, I shall lie like a horse trader.” Pitt’s father had been a gamekeeper on a country estate. Pitt came by his beautiful diction by having been educated with the only son of the big house, to keep the boy company. He was not a gentleman by birth, sympathy or inclination.

Charlotte, who had been born to an aspiring middle-class family, considerably above those who labored for a living and yet not quite into the aristocracy, had had to learn how to cope with only one resident serving girl, and a woman who came in twice a week to do the heavy scrubbing. She had learned how to cook and how to mend clothes, to shop economically, and to manage her household with efficiency, and even some enjoyment.

Emily, on the other hand, had learned how to oversee the workings of an enormous mansion in fashionable London, and on weekends from time to time, and longer spells out of season, of Ashworth Hall in the home counties. She had always been socially ambitious and quick to learn, enjoying the color and the subtleties, the challenge of wits and the exercise of charm. By now she had built herself a considerable reputation, which had even survived her early remarriage, and she was determined to use it to help Jack attain his newly set goal, affirmed so