The carriage was spacious, clean, and unmarked. The footman who helped us in wore livery without markings. Before he climbed up to join the driver, he said, “We’re to wait for you nearby until you need us.”
“Who do you work for?” I asked.
“Someone who wishes you well,” he replied and walked to the front of the carriage.
The carriage jerked into motion and my stomach lurched with it. Emma reached over and squeezed my hand. “This will be fun.”
“I hope that’s all it is.”
The closer we moved to the Duke of Arlington’s residence, the more crowded the streets became. It was a clear night and the gas lamps shone brightly as we sat in a jam of horses and carriages, all appearing to have one destination.
Sitting there, waiting to move closer to the house as our driver jockeyed his horses into position, I had time to think. And that was exactly what I didn’t want to do. I was scared. Hornets flew around my insides, buzzing and hammering, while a voice said in my head, You’re a fraud.
“Let’s get out here and walk.”
“No, Georgia. We’re going to make an entrance like everyone else. I’ve waited my whole life for this. To enter one of these houses by the front door during a party.”
Emma’s job as a child in her East End gang was to sneak into the homes of the wealthy and let the adult members in or bring the valuables to them. I understood how hard she’d worked and how much she’d learned to make her entrance tonight.
I took as deep a breath as I could with my corset crushing my insides. “Then we wait.”
After a moment, Emma said, “Have you ever been to a ball before?”
“No. They don’t usually invite bookshop owners.”
She smiled. “No, I meant for an Archivist Society investigation.”
“No. Never.”
“We go inside where there will be a cloakroom and retiring room for the ladies. We leave our cloaks and then proceed to the ballroom where we’ll be announced. Phyllida has been telling me about the usual setup. There will be rooms set aside for supper and for cards, but I think the duke will expect us to be in the ballroom.”
The duke. The stage manager for this evening. “I wonder what he has planned.”
The carriage jerked forward, and Emma patted my hand. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The driver didn’t seem to be satisfied until he had us directly in front of the house. Only then did the footman jump down and open the door, helping first me and then Emma alight.
I could see the heads of the couples leaving the carriages in front and behind us turning our way. The shepherdesses, the Romans, the members of the French court of Marie Antoinette were all examining us with interest. We were new, different, unique.
Lady Westover had outdone herself in that regard.
“Smile,” Emma hissed. “We’re on show.”
I glanced her way and grinned. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
We lifted our chins in unison and swept up the stairs, where a liveried footman opened the door to us and gestured toward our left. We entered like queens.
Chapter Nineteen
DIVESTED of our capes, we followed the crowd moving upstairs and then toward the back of the house. As we drew closer to the ball, we could clearly hear a waltz. Although I tried hard not to show it, I was as fascinated as Emma was by all I saw.
On one side of the red-carpeted hall was the dining room, with a table that could seat two dozen set up with delicacies on platters and wine goblets in rows. The chairs were placed around the outside of the room, leaving plenty of space to walk by the table. Emma leaned to the side to look around the footman guarding the door. “Everything is beautiful,” she said to him. “You and the others must have worked very hard to bring everything to a shine. You are to be congratulated.”
She must have blessed him with one of her dazzling smiles, because he grinned at her as if she were bestowing a treasure on him.
I looked into the parlor across the hall. The dark blues in the upholstery and wallpaper made the room appear chilly. An elderly Greek goddess and an equally elderly Eleanor of Aquitaine sat by a warming fire in close conversation. Three tables had been set up and were already in use for card games by friars, medieval rulers, and two King Charles the Seconds.
I recognized the Louis XVI facing me without his mask. The Duke of Merville. He appeared engrossed in his cards, and a large number of silver coins scattered on the tables explained why no one looked up while I stared from the doorway.
The Duchess of Merville, dressed we had been told as Marie Antoinette, wasn’t in the room. I’d have to look for her in the ballroom with the other chaperones, since their younger daughter was engaged, not married.