The Most Elegant Prison

Even as she handled the situation with perfect composure, Wilhelmina did not let her guard down. The Duchess Priestley walking beside her was as kind and gracious as an angel — and, at the same time, the most shrewdly observant member of the entire family.

Arm in arm with her sister-in-law — a woman not easily deceived — Wilhelmina found herself wondering whether this lovely Angeline already knew all about her secret nocturnal outings, and was simply choosing to look the other way.

"To think so many people would turn out."

Fortunately, Benjamin chose that precise moment to let out a sigh.

"The ball is being held, after all."

Wilhelmina seized the opening at once.

"With a spectacle this grand, who in their right mind would refuse such a tempting invitation?"

As every noble in Brighton well knew, a ballroom was never merely a place to dance and make merry. It was a place where, between the strong drink and the waltz, the quiet arithmetic of backroom politics seeped through the music. This was less a social gathering than a crossroads where vast interests changed hands.

"I guarantee you, there isn't a soul in Winster noble enough to tolerate being the only one left out of a place like this."

"And nothing is quite so foolish as looking for virtue in Winster," Benjamin muttered dryly.

"So then, Mina. What's your plan from here? If you've got some scheme brewing, you'd do well to come clean about it now."

"As if I would."

She replied with perfect innocence, sweeping her gaze around the hall.

"Fortunately, the atmosphere is just as I expected."

"And what sort of expectation was that?"

"Well... let's just say it's the right degree of manic, with a touch of the unhinged."

Benjamin laughed and nodded at her unvarnished honesty. Then he leaned in toward his sister's ear and murmured, with genuine affection:

"You know, Mina? Sometimes when I listen to you talk, I find myself missing Francesca's shotgun."

"I was merely stating the facts. You're a married man yourself, brother — you know perfectly well that events this inefficient and extravagant have a certain madness built into the very way they operate."

What, after all, was a ball? It was a hunting ground where unmarried men and women — or, more often, their parents, who tended to be far more desperate than the principals themselves — went about quite literally with fire in their eyes, searching for the most suitable partner in that lifelong contract called marriage.

And yet the supply of unmarried men or women who actually met the necessary qualifications was always, despairingly, finite. Now imagine that, into such a market, there should appear an unmarried man possessed of a fortune or a title powerful enough to rewrite a family's destiny. Need one say more? Every last wisp of the madness currently drifting through this hall would converge upon that single, newly arrived, utterly captivating commodity: one unmarried gentleman.

And that would be the perfect moment for Wilhelmina to present a bill for twice the usual amount.

All that remained was to exercise a little patience until then.

At that same moment, Cassian Windstor was on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

It was not, as idle gossips who did not know him might have supposed, because he had been struck speechless by the capital's lavish spectacle or the charms of its beautifully adorned young ladies. The truth was closer to this: he was thoroughly sick of this strange, blind fervor.

From the age of sixteen, when he had first become a sailor, through every rank until he had made admiral, he had passed through countless brushes with death. And yet the threat he felt now was of a kind he had never experienced even in the thick of a naval battle, with cannon fire raining down around him — why, of all things, should he feel the surreal dread that his clothes might be torn from his body in this thoroughly public place?

There was no need to scan the horizon as he would at sea. Wherever he looked, all he could see were fluttering fabrics. Silver, white, violet, green... young ladies of marriageable age, dressed in the hues commonly deemed respectable, packed the space around him together with their guardians. Standing in their midst, Cassian thought:

This is, without question, the most elegant prison in the world.

"Your Highness Cassian."

And here was the man who had dared to throw him into this pastel-toned hell.

"Earl Wilbright."

A pleasant-looking man, an unmarried daughter on either side of him, executed a skillful bow.

"We are most grateful that Your Highness has personally honored us with your presence. It is late of me to say so, but the late king's passing was truly a tragedy."

How much sincerity was wrapped inside those condolences? About as much as the paper wrapping around a chocolate, Cassian guessed with a cynical inward smile.

"Of course, my daughters here are also hoping for a chance to offer Your Highness their personal condolences..."

"How very loyal of you," Cassian murmured.

"I can see why my brother Edward places his trust in you."

The Earl did not so much as flinch at the blatant sarcasm.

"To be of service to the House of Windstor — that is fortune enough for a man of my modest station."

"Your Highness Cassian!"

A man who had been fidgeting beside them, waiting for his chance, burst in urgently.

"I, too, offer my belated condolences. And if I might present my niece here..."

"Are you granting us the opportunity to pay our respects to His Highness? Then my younger sister as well...!"

Cassian tried to smile politely. More precisely, he tried his utmost to look as little like a slaughterer as possible.

"I'm afraid I have a prior engagement."

"A prior engagement! Then where, pray, is the other party?"

"Surely they haven't arrived yet? In that case, perhaps Your Highness might pass the time in conversation with myself and my daughter?"

The situation was growing steadily more overheated. Cassian, still wearing his polite smile, thought:

His second-eldest brother was a genuinely clever bastard.

Edward was currently stalling for time by exploiting Cassian's unmarried status — and yet he also knew that marriage itself would not be a particularly difficult problem for his younger brother. Which meant this circus was a kind of warning. A warning that said: When you do decide to marry, you will not find it easy to choose a partner my influence has not already touched.

And while he was at it, Edward was no doubt hoping Cassian would grow thoroughly sick of the institution of marriage itself. If that was the plan, it was working with remarkable efficiency. Cassian had not been here a full ten minutes, and already the desire to leave was rising in his throat. He would have done so, too, had he not had a very particular reason he could not leave.

It was at that very moment, as Cassian's jaw tightened in secret, that it happened.

"Ah... I can't... breathe..."

A young lady standing to Cassian's left pressed a hand to her forehead and murmured, gasping.

"Miss Audrey?"

"I feel so faint... someone, please..."

She swayed as though she might collapse at any second, casting a look in his direction so blatant it was almost embarrassing. Her intention — to faint into Cassian's arms in full view of everyone present — could not have been more obvious.

Playing along with such a cheap ploy was the last thing he wanted. And yet he could not simply dodge it, either. The hero of the seas, fleeing from a young lady — he would become the laughingstock of the entire kingdom. There was nothing for it. He would not be able to avoid a tiresome scandal over this — but that still seemed preferable to the nonsense he would hear from his men once he returned to sea.

Cassian sighed and was just about to extend his arm when—

"Oh dear, are you quite all right, miss?"

Someone burst from the crowd and caught Miss Audrey just as she was collapsing. Held in a pair of solid arms, Miss Audrey cracked her eyes open and asked, in a delicate little voice:

"Your Highness...?"

"Good heavens, she's talking nonsense."

The handsome man of mild appearance who clicked his tongue was a face Cassian knew well.

"What are you all doing? Step back, if you please. I understand you're delighted to see His Highness, but at this rate you'll trample someone to death."

Dark brown brows drawn together, Benjamin Priestley began firmly herding the gathered crowd backward.

It was, to be sure, the admirable handling of a gentleman of considerable standing in Winster — and a married one at that. But Cassian's attention was fixed on the person standing behind him.