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.”Lady Thompson fanned the flames.“Recalling the difficulty you had in dining with the Lassiters, Simon, I suspect Mimi may have deliberately filled her card beforehand.”“She's quite capable of it,” he admitted.“But I did sit down to dinner at her side, remember.I mean to stay one jump ahead of her even if I have to pay the musicians to play an extra set.”“As a frog, you should have no difficulty staying one jump ahead,” murmured Gerald.“What a pity the saltarello is no longer fashionable.”“The saltarello? I don't recall a dance of that name,” said Lady Thompson, puzzled.“You are by far too young, Aunt Georgina.It was popular, I believe, in the sixteenth century.It involved a good deal of leaping and hopping.” He sighed at the thought.“An undignified age.”“You'd have looked elegant in doublet and hose,” said Simon, “and I'd have been strangled by the ruff.”He looked down in some dissatisfaction at his evening clothes.His dove-colored pantaloons were spotless, his dancing shoes as glossy as Henry could make them, his coat the correct shade of blue.But they were all old and worn—almost as outdated as the saltarello.As soon as his masquerade was over, he would buy new clothes.There must be some middle ground between fashionable discomfort and shabby comfort.Aunt Georgina had said that Mimi was going to dress up in all her finery.No wonder she wanted to avoid dancing with him.When they reached the Derby Arms, he combed his sandy hair into compliance, then stared long and hard at his cravat in a looking glass.He had allowed Henry to tie it for him, in the style known as the Oriental, and he willed it not to wilt.He went through to the ballroom.Gerald was talking to a local landowner, and Aunt Georgina had found a pair of old acquaintances to gossip with.Simon's arrival went unnoticed.He joined a group of young men already waiting near the door to spot likely-looking partners to whom they could beg an introduction of the master of ceremonies.And the young ladies started to drift in—pink, pale blue, primrose, lilac, and white, plump and skinny, pretty and plain.The Marburys arrived.Dutiful if unenthusiastic, Simon asked Sophia for a country dance.Condescending, she deigned to grant him one despite his lowly status.He prayed as he signed her card that he hadn't picked the one set Mimi still had free.He was bowing his thanks when Colonel Lassiter and Mrs.Cooper entered.They stepped aside to give their names to the master of ceremonies.Framed in the double doorway, each with her arm about other's waist, stood an ethereal vision in silver and white and a dazzling figure in scarlet and gold.Simon stared.Mimi's fiery silk gown, embroidered in gold thread, opened over a petticoat of cloth of gold.At her throat, wrists, and ears carnelians gleamed, and gold was woven into the black braids piled on her proudly held head.She was magnificent, every inch a princess.Simon realized that everyone else was staring too.All conversation at that end of the room had ceased.He stepped forward, grinning as he noted Mimi's pleased smile and Harriet's blush.Their finery had no more changed them than his had changed him, despite Gerald's and Henry's efforts in town.“Spectacular!” Simon assured the young ladies.“The effect is all you could possibly have hoped for, Princess.But I trust you don't mean to remain inseparable all evening.Miss Cooper, pray say you will stand up with me.”“I shall be delighted, sir.” Unaccustomed to being the cynosure of strangers, she seemed relieved to find a familiar face emerging from the crowd.While she fumbled in her reticule for her dance card, he greeted her mother and the colonel and they all moved into the ballroom.Taking the card, he saw that only the supper dance and a waltz remained unspoken for.All the other spaces were filled with the names of local gentlemen, in her own writing.He suspected that her modesty had prevented her filling in those two lines if no one had specifically requested them
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