evening was over in order to accommodate everyone who would wish to stand inside it.
And despite the fact that almost everyone who had been sent an invitation had replied in the affirmative.
The ball had been Meg’s idea in the first place. There was no point in their coming back to town this year, she had said, if she and Duncan were going to creep in and hope that no one noticed. They might as well be quite brazen about it and throw a grand ball while the Season was in full swing. Her grandfather-in-law, who had been a total recluse for years before Meg’s marriage to Sherry and not much better since then—apart from his rather frequent and lengthy visits to the country—had surprised them all by offering Claverbrook House for the event before either Elliott or Stephen could speak up to offer their own London homes.
And now Meg was a bag of nerves. At least, she was until the guests began to arrive—and continued to arrive and continued and continued until the early comers must have been wondering if the dancing would ever begin.
Of course, there was the major distraction that took all their minds off the lengthy wait. There was a gate-crasher. A woman, who had, rather shockingly, come alone. She was a lady—she was Lady Paget, in fact. She was also notorious, if that was a strong enough word. She had killed her husband just a year or so ago. At least, that was the story when it reached Stephen’s ear.
With an axe.
“Which I very much doubt,” Vanessa, the Duchess of Moreland, said to both Stephen and Elliott as she stood between them, waiting for Meg and Sherry to leave the receiving line and begin the opening set. “How could she take an axe, after all, without the gardeners stopping her and wanting to know where she was going with it so that they could do the job for her? She could hardly have told them she was taking it to chop Lord Paget to bits, could she, and would they be kind enough to do the job for her? Besides, unless she is a very strong woman, she would not be able to lift it high enough to do damage to any part of him higher than his ankles.”
“You have a point,” Elliott said, sounding amused.
“And if she really killed him,” Vanessa continued, “and if there was proof that she did—that is, if someone saw her swing the axe—would she not have been arrested?”
“On the spot,” Elliott said. “And she would probably have been swinging in a different way soon afterward. She certainly would not be gracing Claverbrook’s ballroom right now looking for dancing partners.”
She looked up at him suspiciously.
“You are laughing at me,” she said.
“Not at all, my love.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, winking at Stephen as he did so.
“But I do agree with you, Nessie,” Stephen said. “I think we may discount the axe part of the story. Perhaps the rest of it too. One can only hope that her coming here uninvited is not going to ruin Meg’s ball.”
“It will be talked about for weeks,” Elliott said. “What hostess could ask more of her entertainment? I would wager everyone has already forgotten about what they all think poor Sherry was guilty of. His perceived crimes pale in comparison with a female axe murderer. Indeed, I do believe we ought to thank the lady in person.”
Vanessa eyed him suspiciously, and Stephen looked across the room again to where Lady Paget was standing, a small empty space all about her as if those in close proximity expected her to draw an axe from beneath her gown and commence swinging with it.
He had glanced at her only once before, when the story had first reached his ears and she had been pointed out to him. He did not want the poor woman to feel that everyone was staring at her.
Why had she been foolish enough to come? And to come alone . And without an invitation. Of course, she would probably sit at home for the rest of her life if she waited for one of those.
She was a tall, voluptuously formed woman. And the gown