“My very first kiss.” Eugenia chuckled. “I like it.”
“Me, too. Perhaps after the ball tonight, we might walk in the garden. Perhaps there I might steal another kiss.”
“I might let you. Until then, Your Grace.”
With a quick curtsey, Eugenia vanished into the kitchen. A silly grin on his face, Maximilian turned to walk toward the hall as guests from across the kingdom strolled in to breakfast. He had barely turned the corner when he all but collided with Augusta. Her icy-blue eyes bored into him as though they were twin spears, and he knew she had witnessed everything between himself and Eugenia.
“How dare you,” she all but screamed in an undertone. “You are a disgrace, Maximilian, to this family and your status. You ignore a fine heiress like Lady Helena and embarrass me with the low born trollop.”
Maximilian grew cold with fury. “And how dare you, Duchess, to spy on me, then question who I spend time with.”
“That hussy cannot possibly stand at your side,” Augusta hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Should you lower yourself to wed her, you will be the laughingstock of polite society.”
“Polite society be damned,” he growled. “I will do as I please, and I do not care if you approve or not approve. She is my business and mine alone.”
“And you will bring disgrace down upon our family,” she snapped. “I will not have our good name dragged in the mud. What would your father think?”
“My father would want me to be happy, Madam,” he replied, reining in his temper. “But as he is not here, we will never know.”
“I warn you, Maximilian,” Augusta continued, spittle slicking her lips in her rage. “Have a care when you place this family behind your scandalous wooing of that creature. For I will not have you stain my name along with your own.”
With that, Augusta spun on her heel and stormed into the hall amid the flow of guests. Maximilian breathed deeply, calming his rage, before he, too, joined the influx of diners. He knew they would recognize in him his deep and abiding anger. Before he did, however, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen and found Eugenia standing there, tears in her eyes.
She had heard every word.
Opening his mouth to say anything, to apologize, to explain, he tried to speak. Nothing emerged. He gaped at her, helpless, knowing full well the exchange between himself and his stepmother hurt her to the very foundation of her being. He took a step toward her, and that broke the stasis. Eugenia turned away, tears flowing, and disappeared into the kitchen.
* * *
Dressed in his most formal attire, Maximilian stood beside Augusta in the receiving line early that evening, greeting their guests as they arrived for the ball. Musicians strolled among them as waiters in fine livery passed among them, offering food and drink. Ignoring the heaviness in his heart, Maximilian smiled until he thought his face would crack in half. He shook and kissed hands, chuckled and welcomed each and every one of them with an enthusiasm he did not feel.
The Viscount of Mallen, Edmund, and his wife Lady Caroline arrived, Maximilian and Mallen shook hands as Lady Caroline and Augusta swapped air kisses. “How lovely to see you again, Lady Caroline,” Augusta trilled. “I am happy you both have come to our little soiree.”
“I am so pleased to have been invited.” Lady Caroline eyed Maximilian flirtatiously. “Your Grace, you are as handsome as ever. How do you keep the ladies from fawning all over you?”
Maximilian bent to kiss her hand, grinning into her clear blue eyes. “Why, I ride fast and hard, Lady Caroline.”
She laughed with good humor. “Then I shall have to put a hobble on your horse, dear man. I do so want to see you married to a nice girl.”
“One day, My Lady,” he said with a sly wink. “One day.”
Later, Maximilian circulated amid the hundred-plus guests, a glass of wine in his hand, occasionally catching glimpses of Eugenia. She, too, moved among the crowd, offering drinks from a silver tray with pretty smiles. Though this was not her regular duty, he had heard through Lady Helena that she agreed to help serve.
He watched the said Lady Helena dance with his brother, Wilmot, and thought them a nice enough looking couple. They seemed to like each other, anyway, and if the Earl proposed a marriage contract between them, he found few objections. However, with her prospects, he could not see Lady Helena married to a second son. Not with the many first sons of Earls and Viscounts in the realm, many of whom were here tonight, and also on the hunt for a wealthy, titled bride.
Soon, he found himself standing with the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire. Deciding to take a breather from being the perfect host, he stood and made small talk with them as he made sure all his guests were happy from a distance. Eugenia met his gaze from across the grand hall as Earl Whitington plucked a glass of champagne from her tray, smiling at her as he did so.
He found the Duchess stepping closer to his side and turned to find her following his gaze. She frowned, her hazel eyes narrowed as she stared at Eugenia through the moving mass of guests. “Might I ask who that girl is, Bromenville?”
“Lady Helena Whitington’s personal maid,” he answered, wondering if she had heard the rumors of the romance building between himself and Eugenia. “She is helping us tonight.”
“I see.”
The Duchess continued to watch Eugenia as the girl walked among the cream of the kingdom’s nobility, her eyes fixed, intent. Her mouth opened slightly, and it seemed to Maximilian that the skin of her face had paled. Concerned, Maximilian glanced between her and her just as confused husband. “Is something wrong, Duchess?” he asked.
“I – am not sure,” she murmured. “I think I am seeing a ghost.”
The Duke of Dentonshire frowned and tried to see Eugenia just as the maid disappeared into the milling guests. “What are you talking about?”
