She shook her head. ‘That terrible fate is not reserved only for princes.’
They parted in the dance and circled back to each other. The prince was an elegant dancer. He took her hand and led her in a promenade. ‘Well, truthfully, I only dance with a few of them, and then escape to my English friends in the card room.’
Frederica opened her mouth in pretend shock, bringing her free gloved hand to her chin. ‘For shame! How long have you known Samuel?’
‘Since Eton. Smashing good fellow. No better soldier in the entire Allied forces. I only wish he were my ADC instead of Wellington’s, but the duke would not dream of parting with him. Ah, there he is.’
Samuel walked into the room and Frederica was not the only one whose eyes were upon the handsome, broad young soldier. Lady Caro broke from her circle of admirers to greet him at the door. She must have chosen him to be her newest victim now that Lord Byron had spurned her. Frederica had disliked the dashing matron before; now she positively hated everything about her. From her painted toenails to her dampened chemise meant to show every line and curve of her figure.
The music ended and Frederica thanked Prince William for their country dance and then he escorted her to the side of the dance floor where her mother was standing. Her hand was immediately claimed by Georgy’s brother, Charles Lennox, the Earl of March. He was a tall, agreeable-looking young man with brown curly hair and matching eyes. He was also a superb dancer, something that she would have appreciated at any other ball but this one. She wanted Samuel byherside, laughing atherwit, and touchingherarm.
Over his shoulder, she saw Samuel and Caro join the dancers. For half a moment, Frederica contemplated calling Lady Caro out for a duel. Her mother had once told her a story about how Lady Almeria Braddock took offence at a comment Mrs Elphinstone made about her age and they had a duel in Hyde Park. Both ladies missed their marks with pistols, so they moved on to swords. Mrs Elphinstone was wounded in the arm and promised to write an apology. Swords or pistols, Frederica was more than willing to give Lady Caro a flesh wound. Frederica would not miss with her pistol. Nor would she apologise.
‘I feel as if I know you already, Lady Frederica,’ Lord March said. ‘Georgy talks about you so often.’
She gave him a simpering smile. ‘All good things, I hope.’
‘The very best and I hear that you are to be congratulated on your engagement to Colonel Lord Pelford. Samuel’s a splendid fellow. I only wish Georgy could find such another.’
Frederica felt her body temperature rise. ‘Perhaps you should be congratulating him on his engagement tome.’
Wiggling his eyebrows, Lord March let out a bark of laughter. ‘The reports did not do you justice, my lady.’
Unless the rumours were from Georgy, Frederica was certain that they were not favourable to her at all. Spinning, she decided to change the subject. ‘Is it true that you have a bullet inside of you?’
Charles pointed to his puffed-out chest. ‘Right here. Shot at the Battle of Orthez in 1814. It was never removed.’
‘Does it pain you at all?’
‘Not a bit. I do not notice it at all.’
After Charles, she danced with Mark. But not even his wit could make her smile. Frederica tried to stop her eyes from searching the room for Samuel. Unfortunately, she found him with Lady Caro clung to his arm like she was drowning in the sea.
When the dance ended, Mark escorted her to Georgy’s side instead of her mother’s. Georgy shooed her cousin away and linked arms with Frederica. They walked around the edge of the ballroom together. Frederica resisted the urge to rub her sleepy eyes. All the late nights and early mornings were catching up with her. She could barely keep her eyelids open.
Georgy whispered in her ear, ‘Take care how you flirt with Cousin Mark and my brother, or you shall lose your Lord Pelford to Lady Caro.’
‘She is already married and a notorious flirt. Besides, he must be several years younger than her,’ Frederica countered. Unlike Samuel, jealousy was not a colour that favoured her.
‘You’re right and I have heard it rumoured that she is still obsessed with that limping poet who was all the rage.’
‘Lord Byron. Mama does not approve of him at all,’ Frederica said. ‘But he might be respectable now that he married Miss Annabella Milbanke, Lady Caro’s cousin. Now that is poetic revenge.’
Georgy squeezed her arm. ‘I do not care about Lord Byron. I think you are a great fool if you do not stop Lady Caro from adding him to her string of conquests.’
‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Smile at him. Talk with him. Flirt with him. He is your fiancé after all,’ Georgy said, steering her to Samuel, who was still standing by the infamous Lady Caro.
‘I’d much rather kiss him,’ Frederica muttered truthfully.
Samuel arrived late to the King and Queen of the Netherlands’s fête. He paid his respects to the current monarchs, then entered the ballroom, where he looked for Frederica. He saw her dancing with Billy, the Prince of Orange. Her hazel eyes flashed with mischief and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. He had not seen her since yesterday and he realised how much he had missed her in that short time. He’d started to walk towards her when he felt a slender hand on his arm. Turning, he saw the petite, pretty, and painted face of Lady Caro.
‘Oh, hello, Lady Caro. How do you do?’
‘Not well at all,’ she purred, placing a hand on his arm like a claw. ‘For I have yet to dance with you.’
‘Shall we?’ Samuel said, leading Lady Caro to the dance floor.