Guests filled the chamber, pressed shoulder to shoulder. They danced across the mosaic floor and congregated near the orchestra, all glittering and gleaming like firelight on snow. Elias squeezed past them. He savoured aromas of spiced wine and perfume, the earthy musk of evergreen. Indeed, the ball was unlike any party he’d experienced.
The air itself seemed tinted rose and champagne.
“Mr. Welby,” Anne murmured from the dining room’s threshold. She held a platter of mincemeat pies, her new uniform starched and pressed. The butler had agreed to let her bring dishes from the kitchen because the footmen were needed to serve drinks. Such inclusion seemed a great honour, for her scullery-maid duties confined her to the servants’ quarters.
“Save me a pie,” Elias said with a wink. He made his way to the dance floor. Until tonight, he hadn’t noticed the ballroom’s ceiling. It arched into a dome, its mural depicting a gateway to heaven with cherubs painted blush and gold, all nestled among lavender clouds.
Mrs. Darling had decorated the space below with candelabras, silk paper bunting, and wreaths made from holly and laurel. Garlands entwined bannisters and hung from doorways, along with mistletoe, which the maids and young ladies avoided.
Lord Welby emerged from the sea of faces and greeted Elias with a quick nod. “Our relatives take pride in their hosting, do they not?” His countenance remained inscrutable.
“Indeed,” Elias said as he observed extravagance in a stupor. His ears purred with a cello’s thrum, the whoosh of skirts against marble. He scanned the crowd and spotted Sebastian near the orchestra, conversing with Mrs. Darling and Widow De Clare.
“You’ve matured into quite the distinguished gentleman, Son. Your uncle finds you well suited for your title.” Lord Welby lifted his chin, the muscles around his mouth tensing. He resembled a monarch with his silvering chops and the pendants fastened to his tailcoat.
“I’m obliged to him.” Elias flinched when his father gestured to a dancer, a girl with mousy hair and mature features. He’d nearly forgotten about the prospective bride.
“Have you made yourself known to Miss Wood? I daresay she’s a fine match for you,” Lord Welby said. “She comes from royal blood, and she’s set to inherit a substantial fortune. Together you would make the Welby Family a pillar of high society.”
“Not yet,” Elias admitted. He hadn’t given the girl much thought until this moment. His mind had occupied itself elsewhere, perhaps juggling balls or drinking hot chocolate.
“Ask her to dance with you. I insist.”
“I’ve grown attached to someone.” The words breezed from Elias before he could cage them. They whooshed like skirts and thrummed like cellos. They clung to the air like evergreen.
Lord Welby cocked his head. “Really? Is her family established?”
“Very much so.” Elias drew a breath. He knew his father would disapprove of Josephine, yet a small part of him wondered if he was incorrect. “However, the lady is betrothed.”
“Betrothed? Ha!” Lord Welby leaned forward, his breath warming Elias’s cheek. “You cannot afford to taint yourself with ill repute. Such behaviour may suit your cousin, but you are not afforded the luxury of misconduct. Already your position in this world threatens to unravel. I hold you together with my title and promise of inheritance. Without me, however, you are nothing to society but a rich man’s bastard. Look around. I wish to protect you from these ravenous dogs. If you heed my advice, I’ll make someone of you—”
“What if she were not betrothed? Would you consider her then?” Elias dabbed sweat from his brow, a sharp pain rippling through his abdomen. He didn’t want to marry someone for the sake of title. Indeed, his father had warned him not to marry a woman out of convenience.
“Make yourself known to Miss Wood. If you find her disagreeable, then I permit you to search for a wife of equal grade. She must come from a notable family and be without scandal.”
“Do you require her to possess a certain sum?”
Lord Welby didn’t appear to hear the question. He gave Elias’s shoulder a hard pat and stepped toward the patio. “Return to Windermere Hall in the spring. I have work for you to do.”
“After my cousin’s wedding,” Elias said with a nod. Lord Welby disappeared into the multitude and Elias stepped closer to the dance floor.
Tension festered within him like an embedded splinter. He watched Sebastian and Mrs. Darling join the dance lineup, his senses numbing to the party’s splendour. Music grew dense and indistinct within his ears. The aromas made his stomach churn.
He loathed something, perhaps a lot of things. He disliked his own temperament. He resented Lord Welby for not caring about him as a father should. He despised his need for connections and reputation, the pettiest of necessities. What did he expect to happen once he completed his rise to lordship? People would still see him as the bastard.
Society preferred disappointment, for complaints led to exceptional conversation. Mrs. Capers had said it best, that no topic sparked discussion like general displeasure, for speaking of sunshine seemed dull when life offered so much rain.
Elias tugged his cravat, the air thin in his lungs. What if Lord Welby did accept Josephine? The man’s criteria had included respectable family and repute, both of which Josephine possessed. Of course, Elias would need to persuade the Darlings to void the engagement, which presented risks to his reputation.
Most people did not think highly of men who stole their cousin’s fiancée.
Regardless, Elias couldn’t let decorum prevent him from taking his one chance. He would have to marry someone eventually. His father expected it. And who could replace Josephine? No lady bore even the slightest resemblance to her, not in manners nor disposition.
She was the only girl in the world.
“Move, Elias!” Kitty and Fitz sprinted toward the dining room with Miss Karel in pursuit. They shoved through the crowd, passing in a whirlwind of limbs.
“Slow down,” Elias yelled. He sighed and shook his head. All evening the children had played blind man’s
