“I beg your pardon?” Vincent growled, as Teresa stepped in, not wanting another quarrel on what was such a lovely evening.
“Enough!” she urged. “Why, I am almost inclined to make the two ofyoudance, so you can take your squabbles elsewhere. Prudence is causing no harm, and this is a family occasion, so do let her have some fun, just this once.”
Vincent flashed a glare at Beatrice, sniffing as he turned his attention to the dance floor. “Whoorganized all of this, Tessie? I cannot decide if it is the most ostentatious, gaudy thing I have ever seen in my life, or the most exceptional. There is a thin line between the two, I expect.”
“It is called ‘imagination’, Lord Grayling,” Beatrice replied tersely. “You might attempt it sometime; it shall change your life.”
Teresa cleared her throat. “Beatrice arranged it all, Vincent, with great effort. And Icanconfirm that it is the most exceptional thing I have ever beheld.”
Vincent blinked, keeping his gaze fixed on Cyrus and Prudence. “Ah… well… it will certainly serve you well, Tessie. Everyone seems to be having a grand time.”
“Except you,” Beatrice muttered.
“I did not say I was not enjoying myself,” Vincent retorted. “The jousting was excellent. I am certain I could have been a very accomplished jouster.”
Beatrice smirked. “There are still two tournaments left before the ball is over. Perhaps, you should enter your name. I could certainly facilitatethat.”
“I think not,” Vincent muttered. “I would hate to injure another gentleman on a night that is so important to my sister.”
Beatrice cackled. “A pity you did not feel that way when His Grace came to apologize to Tess. You know how our dear Tess feels about romance, and you nearly ruined the most romantic moment of her life.”
“I was—” Before Vincent could protest or explain, the music came to a gentle close for the last set, and Prudence came bounding off the dance floor.
She lifted her mask, beaming from ear to ear. “Did you see?”
“We saw,” Teresa replied warmly, grateful for the intervention. “You danced so well, Pru!”
Cyrus caught his wife’s eye, flashing a pointed look that brought Teresa’s hand to her mouth, swallowing down the laugh that wanted to escape. It had been a wondrous discovery, finding outthat her husband had a sharp sense of humor that only seemed to blossom with the passing weeks.
“Indeed,” Cyrus said, “I doubt I have ever experienced such a dance before. I shall not forget it in a hurry.”
Prudence threw her giddy arms around Teresa, hugging her tight. “Thank you for lending him to me,” she said. “But do you have to go away? Can you not have your honeymoon here, with all of us? I do not know how I am supposed to fare without you for months.”
“It will pass by more quickly than you think,” Teresa promised, her heart leaping at the thought of the adventures ahead.
It had been rather a surprise when Cyrus had come to her, with that shy look upon his face, and informed her that they would be spending the next few months exploring Tuscany, Venice, Naples, Sicily, the Papal States. For, indeed, when she had asked for a honeymoon, she had also expected that they would remain in England. The seaside, perhaps.
“Indeed, we cannot keep her all to ourselves anymore,” Isolde’s voice interjected, as she joined the group, looking as resplendent as a queen in a dramatic gown of dark red.
She held a little knight on her hip, who seemed to be fast asleep, her husband a bigger version at her side.
“Oh dear,” Beatrice said softly. “It appears the party has been too much for one valiant knight.”
Isolde laughed. “I promised I would wake him for the next joust.”
“And you must, for I am trying to convince your brother to partake,” Beatrice replied. “He said he would be quite proficient, so I thought it might be interesting for him to prove it.”
Isolde, however, looked quite horrified. “Oh, Vincent, no. You cannot partake in a joust. You will hurt yourself terribly, and I do not want Joseph to see that.”
“I thoughtImight participate,” Isolde’s husband, Edmund, chimed in. “Would you be too worried?”
Isolde smiled up at him. “Mercy, no. I know you would unseat anyone you rode against, my love.”
“I beg your pardon.” Vincent’s eyes flashed, clearly dumbfounded that everyone thought he would end up hurt.
As the group began to quarrel among themselves, Teresa felt Cyrus’s hand in hers, a faint tug pulling her away from the mild argument.
No one noticed as the happy couple slipped away, weaving through the guests in their masks, hiding in plain sight. Cyrus did not let go of her hand as he guided her through the exquisite,fairy realm of the gardens, past the groups that were listening intently to the storytellers, and on to the greenhouses.
