Arthur wanted to get to Joe’s side before his protégé met the king, but he’d ended his dance with the unfortunately named Miss Doris Crabtree far away from Joe. He couldn’t cross the room without making a production of it since the crowd was swelling toward the greeting line. Joe was on his own to sink or swim. All Arthur could do was watch while both Joe and Professor Holley—what the devil were they doing together?—moved closer to the king.
Joe would do fine. Of course he would. He knew the proper etiquette, the formal address, everything he needed to know. Still, Arthur wished he could be there to offer him support as Lady Granville introduced Joe to His Majesty.
At present, Edward lingered over the hand of Rose Breckenridge, whose anxious mother hovered at her side. The old goat still appreciated a pretty girl, although he no longer grazed as he once had, and he never would have considered toying with a proper young lady. Fresh from finishing school, the debutantes would be formally presented at court soon, but tonight were allowed an advance meeting with their monarch in a more casual setting.
Now Joe was at the front of the queue. Lady Granville introduced him, and Joe executed a perfect bow to His Majesty before bending over Mrs. Keppel’s hand. He spoke with her, and whatever he said prompted Alice Keppel’s famous smile, the one said to have captured the king’s heart and held it for all these years. She responded, and the king joined in on their conversation with a hearty laugh. What the devil could Joe possibly have said? Had he begun some sort of music hall comic act? Would he break out pins and begin juggling next? Arthur’s skin felt as tight as a poorly made suit. He was desperate to know what was going on.
Joe moved on, and Lady Granville introduced Professor Holley to His Highness.
Arthur sidled around the edge of the room intending to intercept Joe but couldn’t get near him. The benediction of the king and his consort had conferred popularity like a winner’s garland. Several people were gathered around him, while others waited to engage him in conversation. Arthur watched Joe’s success, as smugly satisfied as if he were the one achieving laurels. Of course the young ladies had been twittering about the mysterious, handsome stranger and his grace on the dance floor all evening. But now even their elders were ready to welcome the newcomer in their midst.
Before Arthur got a chance to talk with Joe, the dancing resumed and Joe paired with his next partner. Arthur watched his lovely dark-haired lad twirling Daisy Cavendish around the floor and ached to have Joe’s hand on his waist, their hands clasped together. He wanted to be the one gazing into Joe’s gorgeous eyes as the impish Miss Cavendish was doing. He wanted to lean close and inhale Joe’s scent while they danced on a cloud of music.
A sharp ache filled him for what could never be—not in a ballroom and not in Arthur’s drawing room either. Those wonderful weeks they’d spent together, dancing, talking, laughing, loving, had come to an early end due to the Lawton family’s invasion. Now the party was almost over and the wager finished. After a few invitations arrived to seal the win, there was no good reason for Joe to remain any longer. Joseph Newman would return to his country home. Joseph Sprat would take the money owed him, and he and Arthur would part ways.
But Arthur must be off to India soon, so what would be the point of prolonging their association? Melancholy shrouded him like the gauzy chiffon wrap floating around Daisy’s bare shoulders.
Then Arthur noticed something happening in the crowd around the dance floor, a sort of ripple as heads bent together, mouths moved, and gazes focused on the dancing couple. He knew it was Joe they were whispering about. But what was the source of this wave of interest, the avid eyes, and excited chatter?
He traced the ripple back to the pebble at its source. Professor Holley. The linguist stood with a quartet of ladies, holding forth on something with extravagant hand gestures and knowing nods. The ladies listened to Holley, then turned as one to look at Joe whirling past.
Arthur’s heart nearly stopped. Holley had spent time talking to Joe. If the professor was truly as good as he claimed to be at detecting where a person came from, he may have unearthed solid East End work boots under Joe’s upper-crust polish. From the way the gossip seemed to be spreading, he’d apparently dug up something juicy.
Arthur remained frozen, flailing around in his mind for what to do next. It all depended on how his peers reacted. Would Lady Granville hear the tattle and send a footman to draw Joe and Arthur aside for questioning in another room? She might ask them to leave quietly. But how would the rumors be squelched, and how badly had Arthur damaged his family name tonight by playing this foolish prank? He’d been so confident Joe could pull it off that he’d given little thought to the ramifications of failure. Now it seemed their charade might be about to set loose a series of explosions like a string of firecrackers—not life-threatening, but one could suffer painful burns if holding them.
So long as Joe and Daisy were still on the dance floor Arthur could do little. In the meantime, in order to know best how to alleviate gossip, he needed to know what was being said. He started toward the four matrons Holley had just left. On the way, Freddie Granville intercepted, moving in front of Arthur so he’d have to dodge around him in order to continue walking.
“Your lad is doing quite well.” He indicated the dancing couple at the center of everyone’s attention. “I guess one can make a silk’s purse from a sow’s ear that will pass inspection—at least for a while. But perhaps not long enough. It seems my pet scholar has learned some secret about your pet ape. What do you suppose that might be?”
A flash of anger sheared through him. Arthur considered himself to be generally an easy-going sort, but right now he wanted to drive his fist into Freddie’s smug face. “Move out of my way. The game’s over. You’ve won. Let me collect my protégé and clear out before he is shamed in front of everyone. Please ask your linguist not to ruin your mother’s party and to tell everyone he’s been mistaken. Neither your family’s name nor mine should be tarnished due to our shenanigans.”
Freddie frowned. “True. One never knows if society will see the humor in a prank or grow incensed and blackball somebody. My mother would certainly not forgive my part in making her party the talk of the season in the worst sort of way, particularly with His Royal Highness present. I’ll get Holley to set things to rights before it’s too late.”
“Thank you.” Arthur started to move past.
“It’s been an amusing game, but it will be good to have things back to normal,” Granville added. “With your charity case returned to the gutter, you’ll have time for some of our regular pursuits. I’d hope you’ll go with me to Brooklands track for the motor car races next week.”
Arthur couldn’t allow any distaste in his tone lest it change Freddie’s mind. “That would be a pleasure. Unfortunately, I shan’t be able to attend as I’m preparing to leave London for quite some time.”
Granville’s eyebrows shot up. “Leaving? Surely you’re not going to the country house this time of year.”
“Bing has asked me to look after a business matter in India. I will book passage for Bombay soon.” Arthur managed a small smile. “I shall miss our larks, but perhaps you might spend time with Fielding or Branch. They’re both amusing chaps.”
Freddie turned bright red as if he were on the verge of an apoplectic fit. “Were you going to send me a note or simply leave? When did this come about?”
“A few days ago. My brother asked me to do tend to family affairs, so I agreed.” He couldn’t resist throwing a little jab. “We all have to grow up and take on responsibility at some point. We can’t play schoolboy games forever.”
Granville’s hurt look seemed to bear out what Joe had guessed about his feelings for Arthur. Immediately, Arthur regretted lashing out. Freddie was annoying in so many ways, but his friendship still meant something. “Look, Granny, I won’t be gone forever, probably less than a year. I’ll write you from India and see you when I get back.”
Freddie shrugged. “Do as you like. I have plenty of other friends.”
For the first time, it occurred to him that Freddie actually didn’t. Although he was invited to all the usual parties with all the usual people, Arthur might well be his only true friend. Which was a sad thought since Arthur didn’t particularly like him.
Then Granville took a final poke that negated all Arthur’s pity. “Are you bringing your pet along as a personal servant? I’m sure you want to keep the man very close to you.” Granville sneered the word close, making his meaning obvious. “If so, I shouldn’t want to remain in touch. Disgusting habits spread like diseases, and I wouldn’t care to be tarred with the same brush when word got out. Good luck in your journey.”
He turned and walked away, demonstrating that he and not Arthur had ended their friendship. If the illusion of having the upper hand was what he needed, so be it.
The waltz had ended and Joe lingered at the edge of the dance floor chatting with Daisy. Her mother moved toward the girl with a grim expression. Arthur hurried to reach Joe before she did, but he was too late. As he arrived, Mrs. Cavendish was cajoling her daughter to come away with her.
“Mother, I’m talking with Mr. Newman,” Daisy whined.
Lavinia Cavendish glanced at Joe and took her arm. “Perhaps later. Right now there’s someone your father and I wish you to meet.”
Daisy apologized. “I’m sorry, Mr. Newman. I’ll find you in a bit.”
Mrs. Cavendish swept Daisy away, and Joe smiled at Arthur. “There you are. I haven’t seen much of you this evening. Mrs. Cavendish seemed quite put out about something. Do you think I offended her by dancing with Daisy too many times?”
Arthur muttered. “I’m afraid the cat’s out of the bag. It appears Professor Holley is spreading stories about you.”
Joe’s gaze darted around the room as he became aware of people watching him. “Oh dear! Your reputation. I shouldn’t have gone along with this scheme. I’ve failed you.”
“It’s not as dire as all that. We must soldier on and pretend nothing is amiss. But I believe it’s time to make an excuse to Lady Granville and leave.”
Joe fell into step beside him, moving through the crowd that seemed to part before them. “Ought we to tell your family and Lady Granville the truth before they’re taken by surprise?”
“Indeed.” His concern with sparing Joe embarrassment had superseded any other thoughts. But of course he couldn’t skip out and leave his family to be bombarded with questions they had no answers to.
He spotted Mother perched on one of the small gilt chairs along the wall, her head bent toward the silver-and-blonde splendor of Lady Granville’s. The two old friends were laughing without a care in the world—for another few seconds. Arthur would kill two apologies with one heavy rock, then be out the door. Perhaps by the time he returned from India, the scandal he’d caused would have died down.
The two women looked up as Arthur and Joe halted in front of them.
“You are quite the secret keeper, my son, but there’s no need to pretend any longer,” Mother said.
The ladies rose with a rustle of silk, and Lady Granville leaned toward Joe and spoke confidentially. “Professor Holley has told everyone about you. That’s what has them so agog.”
“Really?” Joe said faintly.
Arthur could’ve been knocked over with a feather. Of all the reactions he’d imagined, his hostess’s pleased excitement was not among them.
“I’d say your secret is safe with us, but there’s little point now since everyone seems to know it.” She rapped Arthur’s arm with her fan. “Silly boy, you might have at least informed me that your Mr. Newman is Russian royalty. Distantly related or not, he deserves to be treated as such.”