A Kiss at Midnight
Page 23

“The idea that one’s palm might change moment to moment seems to invalidate the whole idea,” Kate observed.
“Mr. Tippet has already informed the prince that he will marry a dark-haired lady, and live to one hundred and twelve, and any number of other interesting fortunes, but none of them are good enough.”
“So you call upon your philosophical training to manage the travails of your—” And caught herself up. Whether Prince Ferdinand was indeed Berwick’s relative was none of her business.
“Exactly,” he said smoothly. “Miss Daltry, may I point out what an extraordinary young lady you are?”
“Ah well,” she said, and then, realizing that she really liked him, “royalty aren’t the only ones who have oddly shaped families, you know.”
He nodded, his eyes resting thoughtfully on her. At that moment, Rosalie came back around the corner.
“You must come and see the elephant, Miss Katherine,” she cried, not noticing that she was using the wrong name. “She has the sweetest monkey clinging to her leg. I’ve never seen anything so darling in my life.”
“The monkey is a castle favorite,” Berwick commented.
Kate glanced at him to see if he had caught Rosalie’s mistake, but he showed no sign of it.
It turned out that Caesar, who showed proper caution around the lion, had no such sense when it came to the elephant. He rushed between the bars of the cage, yapping madly, trying to catch the monkey.
The elephant looked uneasy and began shifting back and forth.
“Elephants don’t like mice, and that dog is not much bigger,” Berwick pointed out, sounding entirely unconcerned. “She might stamp on him.”
“Caesar!” Kate cried. “Please come out of there!” She waved a piece of cheese desperately.
But Caesar was as dimwitted as he was brave, and he seemed to think the monkey’s tail would drop into his mouth if he barked loudly enough.
Berwick sighed. “Excuse me, ladies.” He pulled open a small box attached to the cage, took out a key, and unlocked the door. One step inside the cage and he scooped up Caesar.
“I’ll have to keep him on a leash,” Kate said. “I’m afraid that he’s quite fearless. He has no brains.”
“None?”
Kate shook her head. “Absolutely none that I can ascertain. It’s like that sometimes.”
Berwick raised an eyebrow.
She smiled at him, just as if she were at home, funning with Cherryderry. “He’s male. I’ve noticed that sometimes the brains simply get left out of the package.”
She and Rosalie left the courtyard to the sound of the majordomo’s laughter.
Fifteen
T he picnic and punting took place in the late afternoon, in the gardens stretching behind the castle. The gardens were laid out very formally, stretching from the bottom of a vast flight of white marble steps. There was a hedge maze, and a lake with swans, and everything imaginable a self-respecting castle’s garden should have, including an orchestra, scraping away on a marble terrace.
Kate wore a cherry-tinted wig to match her gown, a lovely tunic with overskirts in cherry, cut back to reveal two layers, one in a paler cherry and another in cream. She had a little argument with Rosalie over the wax inserts, but her maid had insisted that the cherry dress would be disgraced by Kate’s natural shape. Or, more to the point, by her lack of natural shape.
“They may melt, and then where would I be? What if I grow hot, and they change shape? What then?”
“Do not grow hot,” Rosalie had said, with impeccable logic.
Algie and Kate strolled to the top of the long flight of stairs leading down to the garden and paused.
The orchestra was playing something delicious, a waltz perhaps . . . She’d heard of waltzes and their decadent influence on dancers. The music made her want to pick up her skirts and dance.
“Wonder how they keep those fountains going,” Algie said. Water was shooting into the air out of the mouths of great stone sea monsters.
“You might ask Mr. Berwick,” Kate suggested. “I find he’s remarkably knowledgeable about the castle.”
“I certainly will not have a conversation with a servant,” Algie said, appalled. “For God’s sake, Kate, remember that you’re Victoria, will you? My wife would never lower herself in such a manner.”
“If you want to know something, why not ask?” retorted Kate. “I do think that you’re being a snob, Algie. The prince won’t be able to answer your question.”
“As if I would ask him !” Algie cried, insulted all over again.
Kate sighed and began walking down the steps. There were more people in the gardens than she had seen in the drawing rooms yesterday; apparently guests were already arriving for the ball. “Don’t leave me, Algie,” she told her sulky fiancé. “I’m quite likely to see people whom Victoria knows. I’ll smile at everyone, but you must handle introductions.”
Algie took a quick look at her and said, “You look more like Victoria today, which is lucky.” Then, suddenly aware of a crucial detail, “Where are the dogs?”
“I left them with Rosalie,” she said. “I thought—”
“No, you must have them,” Algie said, snapping his fingers at a footman in a way that Kate considered contemptible. “Victoria takes them with her everywhere; they’re her signature. Bring the dogs from Miss Daltry’s chamber,” he commanded the footman. “And be quick about it. We’ll wait here.”
The wait gave Kate the opportunity to discover exactly where the prince was. He wasn’t hard to find, as he was surrounded by a veritable flowerbed of young ladies, and wearing a costume of dull yellow silk. At least she knew in which direction not to go.
“Just look at that,” Algie said in an awed voice.
“What?” Kate asked, pretending she had been examining the lake.
“Mr. Toloose’s coat has five seams down the back, rather than three.” He twitched his own sleeve.
“I find it remarkable that you are able to see such minute detail from here,” Kate said, and then, turning to the young footman, “Thank you! That was very kind of you.” She gave each dog a stern look in turn. “Caesar, no barking. Coco, stay away from the water. And Freddie . . .” She paused and looked down at Freddie’s silky little ears and sweet eyes. He looked so happy to see her. “Well, you’re perfect as you are. Come on, then.”
They all pranced down the steps together, Algie in the lead, and she was so busy complimenting the dogs for not pulling on their leashes that she didn’t realize that the prince had shaken off his coterie of admirers and was waiting to greet them at the bottom of the steps.
“Miss Daltry,” he said solemnly, as if the previous night had never happened.
“Your Highness,” said she, dropping into a deep curtsy.
“Nephew,” he said, turning to Algie.
Algie obviously wrestled with the question of what to say in response; he finally blurted out, “Your Highness, Uncle,” and bowed so deeply that his nose likely brushed his breeches.
“I insist that you come with me for a turn on a punt,” the prince said, raising Kate’s hand to his lips.