“Mrs. Renfrew, you are originally from Leicestershire, I’m told.” A thin, elegant blonde in bronze silk and diamonds smiled warmly at her.
Maddy smiled warmly back. “That’s correct, Lady Mannering.”
“And yet nobody in Leicestershire has ever heard of you,” the woman said, her smile thinning to a faint sneer. “Nobody. At. All.” Her friends tittered, exchanging sly glances as they waited for Maddy’s defense.
But Maddy had grown up in a country where the English and aristocrats were universally despised. If she could survive the open hostility of French peasants, she could survive the silken insults of an inadequately dressed skinny blonde.Parry, thrust, and smile.
“No doubt because when I was a child, my mother and I moved to France,” Maddy responded with a smooth smile. “I only recently returned to England, and my father had a serious hunting accident shortly afterward, so of course we did no entertaining and attended none of the local gatherings. And then we were in mourning . . . Have you been to France, Lady Mannering?”
“No.” Lady Mannering bared her teeth and moved sinuously off.
“Nicely handled,” Lady Gosforth murmured in her ear. “A nasty piece of work, that one. Widow. Had her eye on Nash. You’re doing very well.”
But Lady Mannering was only the first of many.
“One hears Woodford House has been let to tenants,” the Honorable Mrs. Lethbridge said, with a cold smile that told Maddy she’d also heard about Papa’s debts.
“Indeed it has,” Maddy responded affably. “One would not wish to leave the house uncared for and unoccupied while the family is in Russia, would one? And one is so glad to have found such excellent tenants.”
It was a game. And she was far from alone. Nash never moved far from her side, trusting her to manage, yet there, she knew, to step in, if necessary. He had the knack of making the kind of light, charming comment that defused tension. She resolved to acquire it.
On Maddy’s other side stood Lady Gosforth, declaring her acceptance of Maddy by her manner and stance, if not the actual words. Even the earl, who never said much, showed his support of her in small, significant ways.
The message was clear: Nash’s family and friends supported this marriage. And his wife.
Many people were genuinely welcoming. Maddy curtsied to an elderly duke and duchess, who nodded graciously at Maddy, congratulated Nash on his marriage, invited Lady Gosforth to call with her niece next week, and tottered away.
Already the ball was declared a sad crush, by which Maddy gathered it was a huge success.
Maddy had shown she could cope with the cut and thrust of sophisticated conversation. There was only one more hurdle: the Russian grand duchess. Once she’d arrived and Maddy was introduced, Maddy could leave her post and dance. She was looking forward to it so much. She and Nash had practiced every day, and for dancing she was ready, more than ready.
“Her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anna Petrovna Romanova, Grand Duchess of Russia.” The name boomed out over the crowded ballroom
A hush fell over the room. Everyone turned toward the entrance. A tiny, magnificently robed old lady moved slowly forward, leaning on an ivory cane. She was flanked by half a dozen handsome escorts in glittering military uniforms and followed a small bevy of Russian ladies, clutching shawls and other necessities.
Nash, smiling, bowed deeply and said formally in English, “Welcome, Your Highness, to England.” He added in French, “I hope your voyage from St. Petersburg was swift, smooth, and pleasant.”
Everyone craned forward to hear.
The grand duchess gave a rusty laugh. “It was atrocious, dear boy. Luckily I am never seasick.”
Returning to English, Nash introduced his brother and his aunt, and the grand old lady greeted them, then switched to French to comment on the brothers’ likeness, the general handsomeness of the earl, and the elegance of his aunt.
The crowd pressed closer, the people in front whispering to those behind, reporting what the grand duchess said. Clearly English was not a language she used easily.
Then Nash drew Maddy forward. “May I present my bride, Mrs. Madeleine Renfrew.”
Maddy sank into a slow, deep curtsy, suitable only for the highest rank of royalty. In the cottage in the woods, Grand-mère had made her practice it hundreds of times until she had it perfect, even though Maddy was certain she would never meet any kind of royalty.
Lady Gosforth gasped. Maddy froze for a second. Had she made a mistake? But Grand-mère’s training held firm. She rose smoothly from the curtsy, and for the first time, met the grand duchess’s gaze.
The old lady was smiling. “I didn’t think any young girls knew how to do that anymore,” she said to Nash in French. “So French, so graceful. It took me right back to my days in Versailles. Do you speak French, child? I find the English tongue barbarous.”
“Yes, Your Highness, I am half French,” Maddy responded in that language.
“Not just French, but the French of the Royal Court of Versailles,” the grand duchess declared delightedly. “I spent some years there when I, too, was a young bride. They were the happiest days of my life. Who was your mother, child? Perhaps I knew her.”
“My mother was Louise, the only daughter of Marianne de Rohan, Comtesse de Bellegarde.”
