on the front steps. Muted strains of the orchestra drifted from the house. It was a warm May evening, and the ladies vigorously fanned themselves while the men perspired in full evening attire. Marcus’s silk cravat felt like a wool scarf.
As they neared the ballroom, their attention was captured by two gargantuan statues of Chinese emperors on both sides of the doorway. Fifteen feet high, and what appeared to be half as wide, the statues stood guard at the entrance of the ballroom. Dressed in traditional shenyis, full-length robes that wrapped around their robust bodies, they had slanted eyes and long, jet hair. The stony-faced pair looked down upon the guests with haughty rebuke. Granite signs at their sandaled feet identified them as “Ming” and “Chang.”
Blake grimaced in distaste. “Good Lord! Who would want those two monstrosities in their home?”
“Chinoiserie décor is highly desirable, darling,” Victoria said. “The Regent himself has hired decorators to copy the Chinese style.”
Marcus laughed. “With the Port of Canton closed to foreigners and traders, I wonder how authentic the decorators’ designs truly are.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Victoria said. “It’s all the rage and makes a hostess look sophisticated.”
Marcus glanced inside the ballroom, where the scene was no better. The wallpaper was covered with a bamboo pattern. Exotic birds and panda bears, with their distinctive black and white markings, wove their way around the walls. Smaller statues of Chinese women draped in gold robes were positioned in the four corners of the room.
The décor must have cost a small fortune, but it was garish and gaudy. Everything was ostentatious, designed to openly display the wealth of the owners, but only succeeded in showing their lack of culture and taste.
As they waited their turn to enter the ballroom, a servant with a red vest, embroidered with what Marcus assumed were Chinese symbols, formally announced them.
“The Earl and Countess of Ravenspear and Mr. Marcus Hawksley,” the servant boomed out.
All eyes turned to them. Marcus stood straight and proud. After a few tense moments in which he knew he was being critically observed, the feeling passed. No doubt accompanying Blake and Victoria aided his cause.
Their hostess approached them at the bottom of the stairs. Leticia Benning had a heavily painted face, and wore a gown of blinding-gold tissue with a plunging bodice. Her enormous breasts were stuffed inside the low-cut gown like mounds of soft dough. Piles of blond curls, reaching a foot high, topped her head in what could only have been false hair.
She smiled as she touched Marcus’s sleeve, her kohl-lined eyes devouring him.
“I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Hawksley,” she drawled. “My daughter, Charlotte, and Isabel are inseparable friends, and it is a pleasure to officially announce your engagement tonight.”
Marcus bowed. “Thank you, Mrs. Benning. I understand your events are the talk of the town.”
“What a charmer you are, Mr. Hawksley.” Leticia giggled, and tips of rosy nipples peeped from her bodice.
Just then a man came up beside Leticia. Marcus’s first instinct was shock, and he couldn’t stop staring.
Leticia smiled up at the man. “May I present my husband, Mr. Harold Benning.”
Christ! Marcus thought. He’s more effeminate than his wife.
Harold Benning wore a purple velvet suit with a snowy cravat so intricately folded that Marcus would not have been surprised if it took his manservant an hour to tie. His violet shoes had a heel which angled his portly body forward, accentuating his large paunch. A quizzing glass hung from his waistcoat with a matching purple ribbon. His face was powdered; his watery blue eyes glazed over as if he had made one too many trips to the punch bowl.
“Good evening, Mr. Hawksley. It’s not every day a gentleman sweeps our dear Isabel off her feet. Love is so romantic, is it not, my dear,” Benning said, glancing at his wife.
It didn’t take Marcus long to size up the Bennings. Flamboyant attention seekers, they had the money to carry out their every whim, no matter how ridiculous. Yet they were as transparent in their insincerity as polished glass. No wonder the ton adored them. Marcus wondered what their daughter, Charlotte Benning, was like.
If she was as disingenuous as her parents, how could Isabel befriend her?
After the proper pleasantries were exchanged, Marcus and Blake strolled away, leaving the ladies and Harold Benning to socialize.
“Harold Benning is more of a dandy than Beau Brummel,” Blake murmured.
Marcus laughed as he reached for two glasses of champagne from a passing servant’s tray and handed one to Blake.
Marcus’s gaze roamed the rest of the room, and stopped short when he spotted Isabel Cameron. Escorted by her father, she stood at the top of the stairs leading to the ballroom.
His reaction was swift. The thudding of his heart drowned out the roar of conversation in the crowded room. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.
She was stunning in a blue silk gown, which enhanced the vivid blue of her eyes. A lace-trimmed train flowed at her feet. The gown’s neckline was fashionably low, and a pearl clasp between her breasts drew the eye to the creamy skin rounded enticingly above her bodice. Matching pearl combs held her sable hair up and away from the sides of her face, and loose curls fell down her back.
“Easy, Marcus,” Blake said. “You look like a starving wolf spotting its prey. You don’t want to scare the girl.”
Isabel met his gaze across the room and smiled.
Marcus’s heart hammered, and his gut tightened like a fist.
For the first time, Marcus noticed two youths, a male and a female, standing beside Isabel, and he surmised they must be her twin siblings, Amber and Anthony.
They were attractive adolescents, and he guessed their ages to be close to thirteen years. They were both blond and their blue eyes were wide as disks as they surveyed the Bennings’ ballroom. This was most likely their first ball, and without the younger sister’s coming out in society, they were permitted to attend tonight in honor of their elder sister’s engagement.
The Cameron family wove their way through the crowd and came up to them.
“Good evening,” Edward said, addressing Marcus and Blake.
Marcus had to force his eyes from Isabel to her father. “Lord Malvern.”
“All should go as planned. Charlotte Benning is Isabel’s close friend, and as I’m certain you have surmised, Harold Benning loves attention,” Edward said, a note of mockery in his voice.
The earl’s tone spoke volumes about his feelings toward Benning.
He doesn’t like the dandy, Marcus mused.
Isabel introduced Amber and Anthony, and the twins politely greeted him. Amber bit her lip as she looked around; Anthony’s spine was stiff as he stood to his full height of five and a half feet. The pair appeared as uncomfortable and anxious as goldfish dumped out of their bowls onto a Persian carpet.
Marcus could commiserate.
Leaning down, Marcus met the twins’ wide-eyed gazes. “Did you know that there is a Chinese-style pagoda outside in the gardens? I’ve heard it’s four stories tall and replicated to look quite authentic. The Chinese use their pagodas as temples or memorials.”
Anthony’s eyes lit up. “Can we go outside and see it, Izzy?”
Amber chimed in. “Yes, please, Izzy.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Isabel said. “Go ahead and explore.”
The twins smiled at Marcus for the first time, their relief almost palpable. They bounded off to the nearest French doors that led outside to the gardens.
“You’ve