“What did you mean by the comment about his wife?” Amelia murmured.
Lydia grinned and nodded over toward the orchestra. Amelia had to go onto her tiptoes, but her eyes quickly fell on the figure of a large man dressed as a splendid Judy Punch, his outfit complete with a toy dog and a string of sausages.
“I am almost sympathetic to my stepson,” she laughed, but her friend patted her gently on that hand.
“Don’t, for you will only regret it. Now, let us go and see if we can locate a certain gentleman, shall we? Unlike you, I have faith that he will be here. You might not have noticed, but he only attends things if he knows you are present.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, her cheeks going warm.
“That stands to reason, for you can hardly notice whether he comes to events if you are not in attendance yourself,” said Lydia, before grinning again. “An astute observation of mine, don’t you think? Perhaps I will prove grandfather wrong and show that women can have a head for the law!”
“If anyone can, it is you, my dear,” said Amelia, “but right now, we have more pressing matters to attend to. Lord Gowding is coming this way, and if he starts to quote from Antony and Cleopatra again, there is no saying what I will do to escape!”
They giggled, oblivious to the two highwaymen who watched them pass, one of them smiling, the other watching the magistrate as though his heart had been torn from his chest.
Chapter Three
He handed up his money, and it made a pretty penny
So I took it all back home to me darling sporting Jenny
She sighed and swore she loved me, she never would deceive me
But the Devil take that woman, for she always lied so easy
Mush rim damma dur um da
One for the daddy-o
There’s whiskey in the jar
Darling Sporting Jenny
William might love his friends dearly, but he knew better than to trust his fate to them. Luck had favored him, for he’d seen Amelia making her way toward the veranda doors only minutes after he entered the ballroom.
“I am going to walk about the house, prepare myself for everything,” he told Louis just before they entered the orangery. “Don’t worry, I will be back before you know it.”
The chevalier, his habitual, mocking smile playing on his lips, did not argue with him.
“Bon, I shall have time to convince that soprano that she must rest her voice. I do not see how you could be romantic with her squawking in the background, non?”
William, who had no ear for music at the best of times, just nodded his thanks.
It was surprisingly easy to make his way through the ballroom, and it was quickly apparent that no one recognized him. He paused only to acquire a glass of champagne—ghastly stuff, but he needed the refreshment—his heart and head both focused on his prize.
“A land pirate, how delightful!” said a woman dressed as some kind of parrot. “Are you here to rob me?”
“I’m afraid not, my lady, for even I am not such a rogue as to steal from a bird of paradise,” he replied.
The woman and her companions screeched with laughter, and William warmed when he realized the double meaning of his chosen phrase.
The parrot lady, however, did not seem offended and opted to rap him gently on the knuckles with her feathered fan.
“Wretch! For your insolence, I will only allow you to steal a single kiss.”
He hesitated, trying to work out whether the woman was known to him. She presented her cheek to him, much to the bawdy encouragement of her companions, and William knew to refuse such an offer would both offend and embarrass the lady, whatever her identity.
He could not knowingly cause such hurt and kissed her proffered cheek.
Her companions cheered, and the parrot lady squealed with delight.
“Sir Highwayman, are you not going to steal from us, too?” asked a woman dressed as a milkmaid. “I hear your companions have been very accommodating when it comes to negotiating favors.”
She fluttered her eyelashes suggestively, and William resisted the urge to run away in terror.
“A…a press of your fingers to my lips will suffice,” he said.
Her friends laughed, and the milkmaid pouted. He knew he’d said something wrong, again, but was not quite sure why.
“Only my fingers? Are my lips not as enticing as those of a bird of paradise?”
“Emily!” gasped the parrot lady, her offense obvious.
The milkmaid’s eyes glittered, but she kept her attention on William.
“Erm,” he said before coughing into his hand. “I am merely abiding by the royal scamp’s code, my dear lady, for as we cannot steal from the poor or the virtuous, I’m afraid that a touch of a milkmaid’s fingers is all I may request.”
He may have succeeded in mollifying her, but the parrot turned her wrath upon William so suddenly that he almost took a step back.
“Are you suggesting I am not virtuous? How dare you! Wait until my husband hears of this insult!”
“Your husband would undoubtedly agree with the rogue,” retorted the milkmaid. “Oh, do stop playing the role of a wounded innocent, Caroline, no one cares.”
As the women began to take sides in the coming battle, William took the opportunity to slip away before he was drawn back into the conversation.
That had not gone well at all, and any confidence provided by the champagne evaporated as a result. He could see Amelia just a few feet before him, her dark hair like silk as she slipped, alone, out onto the veranda.
He hesitated, not knowing what to say or how to approach her. He did not have the words to express how just being in her company made the world less incomprehensible to him, or how her smile could have him walking on clouds. No poet he could think of had ever put to paper a way that adequately described how magnificent she was when passionately arguing a point of science or how her laughter could brighten the dullest of lectures. She was beautiful in a way that made that word insignificant and small.
He’d tried to explain it to Dook only a few nights earlier.
“It’s like trying to explain to your favorite mare all the reasons it is such an excellent creature. You could describe at length everything from her sweet nature to the strength of her back, but to the horse, all you’ve done is describe every other member of her species. She’s incapable of understanding why you know that she is better than all the other horses, even if they claim differently.”
Dook had looked thoughtfully at William’s whiskey glass and then removed it from the table.
“Whatever you do, my friend, do not tell Amelia that she’s your favorite horse.”
William sighed at the memory. He was a fool to think he could do this.
He was about to walk away, perhaps even leave the ball altogether, when he caught sight of a gentleman in Tudor dress stepping out after Amelia. Interest, and not a little jealousy, flared up in William’s chest, and he was following the man before he knew what he was about.
The veranda, as it turned out, was anything but secluded. Lanterns cast pools of light over the slate-tiled floor, and the hum of chatter from the Melbournes’ guests filled the evening air. William glanced about him purposefully, avoiding catching the eye of anyone as he searched for Amelia. When he finally spied her, his heart sank a little further. Several gentlemen were paying court to her, and from her broad smile, he guessed that she was enjoying their gallantry.