“We do indeed. I will be positioning myself in the foyer in a few minutes and will see you downstairs.” Inclining his head, the butler hurried off.
Constantine turned to her and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. “It’s almost time. You will be brilliant. Everything will be brilliant.” He leaned close and kissed her.
“You shouldn’t do that in front of everyone.” Everyone being the musicians, Evie, and a handful of maids and footmen.
“Perhaps, but I can’t help myself. Honestly, Sabrina, you look good enough to eat.” His gaze darkened with provocation, and she knew precisely what he meant.
Heat danced through her, and she felt better than she had a moment ago. She also realized he was wearing a gold waistcoat that complemented her gown. “You’ve never worn a waistcoat with color.” She touched the gold brocade and fingered one of the pearl buttons.
“I wanted us to match, to present ourselves as a… I don’t know. You like it?”
“As a couple who coordinate their costumes?” She smiled again, her good humor returning. “And yes, I like it—and you—very much.” Beyond that. She loved him hopelessly and never more in that moment as he sought to allay her fears.
He presented his arm. “Let us take up our places in the foyer to greet our guests. I hope you are ready to spend the next hour talking and smiling so much your face will feel as though it will fall off.”
The apprehension she was trying to keep at bay rose up in her throat. But she refused to succumb. The old Sabrina would never have had the courage to do this. New Sabrina might be nervous, but she would get through it. Especially with this man at her side.
It was near the end of the hour when Sabrina’s parents arrived. Her eldest sister had already come through a short time before, and Sabrina was glad to have spoken with her without the dampening presence of their mother.
As Haddock announced the Viscount Tarleton and Lady Tarleton, Sabrina stiffened. Constantine’s hand gently stroked the small of her back, and she relaxed slightly. She suddenly realized how all that had seemed impossible was now possible—due to the presence and support of her husband. With him at her side, she felt as though she could face anything.
Sabrina’s father was tall and thin with an exceptionally angular face and sparse gray hair. He regarded her with one narrowed eye, assessing her from head to foot before turning his perusal on Constantine. “Aldington.” He spared her one more fleeting glance. “Daughter.”
“Good evening, Father,” she said evenly. “I hope you’ve been well.”
“Quite, thank you.” He stepped forward, allowing Sabrina’s mother to stand in front of her.
The viscountess’s appraisal took longer and felt far more exacting. “What a bold gown, dear.”
Constantine’s fingers skimmed along her lower spine. “She looks stunning, doesn’t she?”
“She seems a bit thin, honestly.” The implication was clear—she couldn’t possibly be increasing. Sabrina gently bit the inside of her mouth lest she blurt that she could, in fact, be expecting an heir.
Before Sabrina could summon a retort—and she doubted she could—Constantine clasped her waist. “I hope you have a pleasant evening, Lady Tarleton.” He nodded toward the viscount. “Tarleton.”
Dismissed, Sabrina’s parents moved along toward the staircase hall. Though the downstairs was mostly open to guests, since the dining room contained the refreshments and the parlor held gaming tables, everyone funneled upstairs to the drawing room when they arrived.
Sabrina exhaled as her parents departed. She leaned her head toward Constantine. “Thank you.”
“Ignore them,” he whispered. “They are completely beneath your concern.” The frigidity in his tone made her shiver. She’d once thought she was beneath his concern, or at least his notice, and that was a terrible place to be. It was, however, a deserving situation for her parents.
Shortly thereafter, they finished their duties in the foyer. Anyone arriving after they left would simply be admitted without a personal greeting.
“I’m going to do a circuit and see how things are going,” Sabrina said. “Would you mind checking the parlor and seeing if the games are running smoothly?”
“I am at your command.” He kissed the back of her hand, then winked at her before taking himself off.
Smiling with a contented sigh, Sabrina went first to the dining room. The sideboard, set with the first small wave of food, looked lovely, but there was an empty space. Something was missing. Scanning the room, Sabrina saw a footman in the corner and strode to him.
“Archer, did something happen to one of the dishes meant for the table?”
He grimaced just slightly before he schooled his features into a serene mask. “There was a problem with the lobster cakes, my lady. Two of the kitchen maids who sampled them this morning fell ill.”
“Oh dear, are they all right?” Sabrina made a mental note to talk with Mrs. Haddock as soon as possible.
“I can’t say.”
“Well, at least the cakes didn’t arrive on the table.”
“Actually, they did, ma’am. The maids only became sick in the last half hour or so. Mrs. Haddock just had the cakes removed before you came in.”
Sabrina wanted to ask if anyone had eaten them before they were taken from the table but was afraid to learn the answer. Offering him a tepid smile, she left the dining room on wooden legs. They were short a musician, the champagne supply was low, and they might have made a guest—or ten—ill from bad lobster cakes.
What more could go wrong?
Sabrina didn’t want the answer to that either.
Her wishes didn’t matter since not five minutes later, a footman informed her that the second delivery of ice hadn’t arrived. After instructing him to make the current stock last as long as possible, she considered retreating to the second floor for the remainder of the evening.
She could not, of course, so she went to the drawing room and braced herself for yet another disaster. And there he was across the room scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. The Duke of Evesham had apparently arrived while she was in the dining room. Blast, Sabrina had prayed, rather foolishly, that he’d decided not to come.
Hoping to avoid Constantine’s father, at least for a short while, she went in search of Evie or Cassandra or Miss Lancaster—anyone but him. Or her parents. She found a great many people and spent the subsequent half hour or so conversing with guests until the next set of music began and dancers flocked to the dance floor.
As she made her way through the throng, she walked straight into her father-in-law. She ought to have known she couldn’t avoid him forever. Was it too much to hope she could have evaded him tonight though?
“Your Grace, I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she managed to say. “Is there anything you require?”
“A full complement of musicians would suffice. Or a glass of punch with a decent amount of ice. Everyone is complaining about the shortage of ice.” He frowned at her, and she wished she could melt into the floor. “But all of that will fade from my memory when you find a suitor for my daughter. It’s been nearly a fortnight and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts.”