He looked at me, pausing for a moment before squeezing my hand. “It is not what pleases me, my dear, but what pleases you. Fear not. Even if you wish never to marry, I shall support you.”
“Mama would have your head for telling me that.”
“Let it then be between just us, though, should you not marry, you would forever have to face your mother.”
“Are you supporting me or threatening me?”
He chuckled, and a broad smile appeared on his lips, which made me smile as well.
The queen’s arrival was announced. Immediately, I released my father’s arm, bowed my head, and curtsied before slowly rising back up. When I lifted my head, the queen was looking right at me, her figure domineering under heavy silks and jewels, her wig high. Everyone else followed her gaze—thus, everyone’s eyes were upon me. Not a word was said, and she looked away just as she looked at me…at her leisure.
“Begin,” she declared.
And so it began.
The scrutiny.
“Lady Clementina Rowley, presented by her mother, Her Grace, the Duchess of Imbert.” The doors opened to reveal a rather tall young lady, perhaps taller than any man there, with a particularly long neck. Her very short mother was behind her. She was not unseemly, though her walk…wobbled. I glanced at the queen, who had a disagreeable expression upon her face. I immediately felt for the girl. The queen could and would be vicious.
When Lady Clementina Rowley reached the queen and curtsied, the queen sat up and asked, “My poor girl, were you stretched as a child?”
A few snickers engulfed the room, and I looked away from the brutality of that moment. I found myself staring at the one person I did not want to see—Evander. His brown eyes stared back at me, and I at him, and he at me, and so on. I could not read his expression. Every so often, he would look away, and then I would look away. The ladies came and went in between, and then once more, I found myself looking when he was not. Finally, tired of this ridiculous game, I focused on the door.
“Lady Verity Eagleman, presented by Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Everely.”
Evander’s sister had blossomed. I remembered her from when she was just a little girl, quite sneaky and devious, always seeking to play in the garden. Her features were soft, her face heart-shaped, and her skin the same as her brother’s. Her walk, while graceful and gentle, unlike the dowager, was…not right. Even worse, she had somehow managed to wear the same color as the queen herself.
I stole a glance at Evander, unable to stop myself, and I could read the horror on his face. I quickly turned my head to the queen, for if there was anything she hated, it was to be outdone, especially within her own walls.
Verity curtsied slow and low. The queen’s face did not reveal much.
I wished to save Verity somehow. Should I faint? Cause a commotion?
“Queer as Dick’s hatband!” Abena shouted.
All eyes shifted to us. My father looked at me in panic and moved to grab Abena when all of a sudden, a laugh echoed through the hall. It was the queen. She threw her head back, placing her hand over her stomach, then stopped and waved off Verity and the dowager.
“Next!” she declared.
I squeezed my sister’s shoulders and whispered down to her, “Mama will have your head.”
She shrugged. Abena was fearless, and it made me proud.
Finally, it was Hathor’s turn.
“Lady Hathor Du Bell, presented by her mother, the Right Honorable Marchioness of Monthermer.” This time, when the doors opened, all was correct.
The manner in which they both were dressed, the speed they both walked, and the grace they held as they curtsied low were perfect. I so wished for the queen to say a few words of praise for Hathor. She badly needed it.
The queen peered over them, then lifted her head and nodded. For most, that would be more than enough, but likely not for Hathor.
And though it took a great deal of time, all finally came to an end, and we were free to return to our homes until the ball. The walk back to the carriages was filled with talk, and I did my best to ignore it but found myself unable to.
“Pray tell how a girl can be so demure, yet her mother looks like a tragic opera singer.” The ladies in front of me laughed, unaware I was behind them.
“You mean Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Everely?” Her companion laughed. “It is clear as day she is a fake.”
“A fake?”
“You didn’t know? She is not the duke’s birth mother. The first Duchess of Everely died in childbirth with the Lady Verity, and not even two months later, his father married that woman. She became their stepmother and even had a child soon after.”
I was close enough that when they began to whisper, I could also hear.
“It’s said he had kept her as his ladybird for many years, and her first son, who is older than the current duke, is actually his illegitimate elder brother.”
“No!”
“Yes! They say the moment he wed her, she remodeled the whole estate, but because she came from such a low standing, she was at a loss for what to do and made a mess of the finances. When the former duke passed, his heir, the current duke, had her removed from the estate in Everely and given a smaller apartment here. He then sent his younger brother—the legitimate one—away to school.”
“Rightfully so. Such a woman, clawing her way into the aristocracy, is distasteful. Look at the mockery she made of their name today. The queen will surely remember.”
“In all honesty, the whole family is quite rotten. Noble birth or not. Did you hear that the duke jilted the famed beauty Aphrodite Du Bell?”
“I have heard her name spoken but do not know her.”
“She is the one whom the queen looked upon for so long at the side of the room today, the one with the renowned curtsy.”
“That was her? I noticed the lady as soon as she entered. She is quite exquisite.”
“The most desired of the ton…even despite her age now. Well, desired by everyone but the Duke of Everely. He preferred a simple bowl of soup to her luxurious feast. So much so, apparently, he drank his fill before they were even wed, ignoring the poor, poor goddess.”
They laughed, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“If it’s simple he wants, maybe I shall send my daughter his way.”
They giggled.
“He would sooner take her over the goddess. Sometimes too much beauty is a curse. Men want fun, not a living painting. Though I do hear that he is quite the rake now that his wife has died, indulging in all types of things.”
I noticed one of them had dropped her handkerchief, so I picked it up.