“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “I have the invitation.”

“The invitation is in order, but there must not have been an RSVP.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I am not, I assure you, madam.”

“There must have been some kind of mistake.”

“We don’t make mistakes,” he said huffily.

“You are about to make a very serious one,” she said in a low tone. “Do you know who I am? Who the Bainbridges are and what we represent?”

“I am afraid—”

“You should be afraid. While you are bravely sitting at this table in your tuxedo, your countrymen are blasting away at the Reds in the mountains using Bainbridge shells and Bainbridge bullets. Do you truly wish to insult our family?”

“Please wait here a moment,” the man stammered, before fleeing in search of someone with authority.

Go get him, Gwen! thought Sparks.

The man returned with an older gentleman wearing a tuxedo.

“Mrs. Bainbridge, do forgive us,” said the older man. “May I have the name of your escort so that I may announce you?”

“Certainly. Captain Timothy Palfrey of His Majesty’s Grenadier Guards, Second Armoured,” she replied.

“This way, if you please,” he said, leading them into the ballroom.

“Wait,” commanded Mrs. Bainbridge.

She inhaled, gathered herself, then nodded to Palfrey. They stepped in, pausing at the entrance. She stood for a moment, allowing those present to take her in, then unclasped her cape and held it out. Sparks stared at it blankly for a moment, then Mrs. Bainbridge gave it a slight twitch. Sparks, recollecting her position, scurried forwards to collect it.

There was a small receiving line. The tuxedoed man murmured, “Mrs. Gwendolyn Bainbridge and Captain Palfrey,” then beckoned them forwards to be greeted by King George II.

Mrs. Bainbridge walked up to him, hearing Miss Betty’s endlessly repeating instructions. Left foot behind! Back straight! Don’t incline the head yet! Wait until you can sink no more. Back straight, I said! Bend the head now. NOW!

Mrs. Bainbridge nodded, then rose and smiled, concealing the agony of her right leg, which was protesting furiously from not having done this for so long. Still, she finally got to use the Vacani Curtsy after all that practice.

“I am not your first king, I see,” said King George, smiling back.

“I was presented, of course, Your Majesty,” said Mrs. Bainbridge. “So many years ago, it seems more like a dream.”

“It cannot have been that many,” he said.

“You are most kind. May I present Captain Palfrey of His Majesty’s Grenadiers?”

“How do you do?” said Palfrey, bowing.

“Captain,” said the king, nodding back. “I would salute, but I am not in uniform, I’m afraid.”

“Quite all right, Your Majesty,” said Palfrey. “I’ve done more than enough saluting over the past few years.”

“I’m sure you have, Captain. My thanks to you and your compatriots. The Grenadiers’ reputation precedes you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

They moved down the line, greeting the ambassador and other dignitaries, then were directed to a table at the side by the windows, which were draped for the evening.