Nathaniel had started to grow tense at the memory of those eyes burning into him, but Vivienne drew him nearer. ‘Let them think what they like. They can follow de Guise, if that’s what they want. They’ve been lording it over the ballroom for too long. New Year’s coming. The Masquerade Ball. You’re the star, now that de Guise is gone.’

‘It’s Hélène that’s the problem now. It’s like she . . . resists me. Every time I show her how I want her to dance, a blank look comes across her face. And where does she go to, anyway? It feels like it’s every week. Whenever the ballroom’s closed. She evaporates. Leaves the hotel, when what she ought to be doing is rehearsing everything I’m teaching her.’

‘Off with some lover, no doubt. She keeps her secrets. She left for an entire year, not long ago. Some rich paramour was jetting her all over the world—’

‘She can have as many paramours as she wants. But she has a job to do. And that job is making me look magnificent.’

Vivienne bristled. Must we talk about Hélène Marchmont, even now?

‘You don’t need to think about her, Nathaniel. Think about us. That’s what this New Year could be, isn’t it? A chance to show the world, not just the Buckingham, exactly who you are, exactly what you can do. There’s more than just glory in it, isn’t there? There’s riches as well . . . You can tour the continent, on a reputation like that. You can see the world. And me? I can finally show my mother that I’m not someone to be cast aside like an unwanted dog. Just think . . .’

Nathaniel did. New Year: the night of the Grand masquerade. When the clocks struck seven, the doors of the Grand would open, the Archie Adams Band – and whatever guest singers they’d drawn in – would strike up, and the dancers would stream out for the Grand demonstration. Then, the lords and ladies in attendance would choose their partners for the night. Nathaniel pictured himself, sweeping the crown princess across the dance floor one moment; holding the warm body of her mother the queen the next. The King may no longer be in attendance, but that did not mean there was not a reputation to be made.

‘And a little space, perhaps, for me, Nathaniel? After all I’ve done . . .’

Nathaniel beamed. ‘Always,’ he said – and, as they slid together upon the bed, he kissed her again.

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-five

SNOW EDDIED AND WHIRLED IN the mews as Raymond de Guise rapped his knuckles urgently on a nondescript door.