The trumpet players gave one last clarion call, then fell silent. As the host, Ashton joined the women on stage, then began in a voice that filled the theater as easily as it filled the House of Lords. Kendra had been told that when the Duke of Ashton spoke, others listened, and as she watched him through the curtain slit, she understood why.

“I’m glad you could all join us tonight for this very special evening,” he said in his deep voice. “There will be a full supper later, after more dancing, but enjoy the refreshments on your tables in the meantime. The champagne that is arriving now will quench your thirst during the performance that is about to begin.”

He paused, his gaze moving lightly across the audience. “The inspiration for tonight came from our lady hostesses and their friends.” He turned and bowed to the duchesses, all of whom were now wearing black armbands as if in mourning.

Straightening, he continued, “Think of this as a mystery play called ‘You Be the Judge.’ A remarkable tale will be told, and you will decide whether or not you believe it. The principal narrator will be my friend Lord Foxton.”

Ashton made an inviting gesture and moved toward the wings as Lucas emerged from his position onto the stage. He bowed to the audience, then began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our story is a tale of marriage and morality that reflects our society. While a love match is a beautiful thing when it occurs, it’s true that even the most modest of men and women also contemplate the monetary benefits of marriage, because a love match is even more beautiful if it has a nice little fortune to go with it.”

That produced a ripple of laughter as people sipped their champagne and wondered what would come next. Like Ashton, Lucas had a beautiful speaking voice, rich and flexible. She’d have to ask him to tell the tale of Dick Whittington and his cat.

Lucas continued, “For a man to marry an heiress is as timeless a pursuit as for a lady to marry a lord with a title and fortune. Our tale begins when our protagonist—we’ll call him Lord D.—is accepted by a beautiful young heiress.”

This was Kendra’s cue to enter in her dramatic black costume. Suddenly her nerves were gone and she was ready to give what would be literally the performance of, and for, her life.

She emerged from the curtains to glide daintily across the polished wood as if performing a minuet, demurely fluttering her fan. Lucas turned and caught her hand and they performed a graceful dance figure. As they circled each other, he whispered, “You’re doing splendidly.”

“As are you, my Lord Fox!”