Masked Ball at Broxley Manor

been longing to meet you, Your Highness,” she said.
    “Have you, by Jove.” And David’s fair skin turned bright pink.
    Tea included every scrumptious sandwich, scone, cake and pastry in creation. I observed that the rest of the company seemed to be much older than I and frightfully smart. Worse still, they all seemed to know each other. So I was allowed to eat undisturbed, which was a good thing actually as éclairs are not always easy things to manage and I hate to have to talk with cream on my nose. I heard snatches of conversation around me about people and places that meant nothing to me, and then I heard something that made me pay attention. “So tell me, is the rumor correct? Is Prince Otto really going to grace us with his presence?”
    “He’s promised to. He’s driving down and will join us later,” Lady Merriman said.
    “My dear, you manage to snag such a glittering company of guests,” another woman said. “How do you do it?”
    “Simple. Good food, good wine, beautiful women. Who can resist that combination?” And Lady Merriman laughed. I sat poised with a slice of walnut cake halfway to my lips.
    “Oh, golly,” I muttered. So that was why I had been invited—they were determined to get me together with Prince Otto, one way or another.
    “It’s all right,” I told myself. “I don’t have to like him. They can’t force me to marry him. It isn’t the Middle Ages.”
    “So that’s why there are policemen hiding in the bushes around the house,” another of the women said. “I thought they were to protect the Prince of Wales.”
    “I don’t need protecting,” David said. “Who’d want to bump me off? I’m not worth assassinating. Besides, everyone adores me.”
    “Of course we do.” Lady Merriman smiled at him fondly.
    “I thought they were to keep out your husband, Pauline,” someone said, getting a good laugh.
    “We have been warned that we can’t be too careful,” Lady Merriman said. “There are anarchists and communist agitators everywhere these days and Prince Otto is a guest of His Majesty.”
    When tea was over and more guests had arrived, Lady Merriman clapped her hands. “Those of you who didn’t bring a costume—now is your chance to take your pick from our selection upstairs. I’ll lead the way. And you need to keep up. It’s easy to get lost in this house. We once found a guest who’d been gone for a week.” She gave a melodic peal of laughter.
    As we followed her out of the drawing room I noticed that Mrs. Simpson had moved closer to the Prince of Wales and whispered something into his ear. He blushed again and laughed. The queen wouldn’t be happy to hear about her, I thought. She would definitely not be considered a suitable companion. Thank heavens she was already married.
    In a guest bedroom upstairs there were racks of costumes and by the time I arrived women were already fighting over them—in well-bred fashion, of course. I had no idea what I wanted to be. The first dresses I looked at seemed rather provocative with exceedingly low necklines. Certainly not for me. I didn’t fancy being a lady vampire either. I was looking for something innocuous when Lady Merriman grabbed my arm and drew me aside. “I’ve the perfect costume for you, Georgiana—here you are, honey.”
    She lifted a long black dress from a hanger. It appeared to have some sort of wings.
    “What am I, a harpy?” I asked.
    She laughed. “No, honey. You’re a fallen angel. Such a cute little dress that I thought of you immediately.”
    I took the outfit, not sure why she thought of me as a fallen angel. Or . . . an uneasy thought crossed my mind . . . was she planning that I was going to lose my virginity tonight? And if so with whom?
    “And do go next door to pick out a mask,” she was saying. “We’ve a splendid array of Venetian masks that we brought back from Venice for this ball.” She clapped her hands. “Pay attention, everyone—it’s essential that nobody recognize you so choose wisely. We’ll have the guessing of identities and stripping of the masks at midnight.”
    If this was the rule, I wondered why she had let everybody know who I was going to be.
    “You’ll find rooms to change in all along this hallway,” she went on. “One thing we haven’t in this house is a shortage of bedrooms. There are a hundred and one to be precise, so take your pick. And anyone who didn’t bring a maid, just ask.”
    As I was leaving in search of a room I