When they were almost to the Sanfords, a new party entered the ballroom, and there was a sudden flurry of surprise. The music stopped, and guests began turning toward the door. Lady Sanford dropped into a curtsy, and her husband bowed deeply.
Peregrine gave a soft whistle of surprise when he identified the new arrivals. "Believe it or not, Queen Victoria has just walked in with a sizable party of courtiers."
His comment pierced Sara's abstraction. "Drina is here?" she said, startled. She stood on her toes and craned her neck, but could not see over the heads of taller people. The murmur became a babble of excitement as everyone turned to the queen.
"She certainly is. Does the queen often come to private balls?"
"Almost never," Sara replied, "but the Sanfords are very active at court, and they are dedicated Whigs. I've heard that the queen is afraid that soon a Tory government will come to power. Melbourne is the only prime minister she has ever worked with, and she is very attached to him. Coming here might be a way of showing support for the Whigs."
"Clever wench," he said admiringly.
"For heaven's sake," Sara said, sounding more like herself, "don't say that to anyone else! What is happening?"
"Melbourne has joined her. Perhaps he knew she was coming?" Peregrine said in an under-the-breath commentary. "Now the queen is moving in this direction. She stops to say a few words to someone, then moves on. More like a politician than a Royal." Peregrine watched Victoria's progress with interest. She was tiny, scarcely five feet tall, but she certainly had great presence. She was also pretty, though she was already plump and would likely be quite stout in later years.
Since the queen knew Sara, probably she would stop to say a few words. A great honor, no doubt, but Peregrine could not help wishing he and Sara had left before the queen's unexpected visit.
* * *
Like everyone else, Weldon was immobilized by the queen's presence. It was rather like being at one of her drawing rooms. He chafed at the delay, then scowled when he saw that the queen was about to speak to Peregrine and Lady Sara. Not only was Victoria the ruler of the British empire, but was also a pure, modest young woman. Appalling to think that the queen would be tainted by contact with that imposter.
Then Weldon had his second inspiration of the night. He wanted to discredit his enemy. What better way to do that than by denouncing him in front of the most influential woman in England? He would not even have to lie; the truth was quite bad enough.
Yes, Weldon's luck had turned. Once more the world was falling into his hands. He began forcing his way to the front of the group.
* * *
Melbourne and the Sanfords trailing behind her, the queen stopped in front of Peregrine and Sara. With a gracious inclination of her head, she said, "A pleasure to see you, Lady Sara." Her voice was sweet and very clear, like a nightingale.
Sara curtsied. "This is an unexpected honor, Your Majesty."
"Your husband was presented to me at the last Levee." She turned to Peregrine. "Prince Peregrine. I hope that relations between your country and mine will be fruitful."
He bowed and murmured, "As do I, Your Majesty."
As Peregrine straightened up, Charles Weldon emerged from the crowd, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
After bowing to the queen, Weldon said in a ringing voice, "I beg Your Majesty's pardon, but I must tell you that this man is an imposter. He is not a prince, not even a native of Kafiristan. He is not worthy of being presented to you."
A gasp rippled through the onlookers who were close enough to hear. Startled by this departure from protocol, Victoria turned to the man who dared interrupt her. Melbourne stepped forward and whispered in her ear, probably identifying Weldon.
With a sick feeling in his stomach, Peregrine realized that Weldon had found a perfect place to discredit him. Peregrine could try to lie his way out of it, of course, and he lied very well. But who would these staid Britons believe, an English gentleman who was one of them, or a foreigner of dubious background? The answer was obvious.
For himself, Peregrine did not much mind being disgraced, but his friends were part of this world. They would not relish being publicly humiliated for having sponsored him. Ross and Haddonfield would feel betrayed, and justly so. And Sara, dear God, what would Sara think?
Knowing that all eyes were on him, Weldon continued, "The man calling himself Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan is an imposter. In fact he is English, the illegitimate child of a cockney barmaid." He turned to Peregrine, vicious satisfaction in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he thundered, "And this fraud, this insolent East End gutter rat, dares try to deceive the whole of British society."