only did she face her first Season alone, she discovered her father had left the estate in financial ruin. Fortunately, the Baroness of Derby had taken Eleanor under her wing. However, as a penniless gentlewoman, she’d had no choice but to find a way to fill the family coffers or face ruination.
Perhaps it was fate.
Now she controlled a dynasty. Her father had the best physicians and orderlies money could buy, their estates were in good order and, when the viscounty passed to her second cousin once removed, she had enough tucked away to live out her days in supreme comfort.
“Were you in the wars?” she asked, shifting the conversation away from the duke’s scrutiny.
“The seventh coalition. Served under Wellington.”
“Waterloo,” she whispered before all heads turned toward the tinkle of a delicate bell.
“Dinner is served,” announced the steward.
The prince offered his elbow. “This eve I desire to escort Miss Kent and Lady Jersey to the table and, I daresay, the menu will be spectacular.”
“It always is,” agreed the Countess of Jersey, taking Prinny’s opposite elbow. “You do know how to entertain, Your Highness.”
Over her shoulder, Eleanor cast a glance at Danby. Lord only knew why she did, but the man was staring at her with a most contemplative expression. And it made her far too uneasy. He was as beautiful as nightshade and the jumping in the pit of her stomach was nothing but a warning.
She swiftly averted her gaze.
When in doubt, always go with your intuition. Regardless of his allure, keep that man at arm’s length.
Sher set his champagne glass on the footman’s tray as he followed the prince into the banqueting hall. He’d never attended one of Prinny’s dinners when George hadn’t selected the two most beautiful women in attendance to sit beside him. Even the members of the ton referred to his blatant show of favoritism as the regent’s “promiscuous eating seating”. Good God, Prinny had to be the most gregarious man in Britain. He even sat in a padded throne at the center of the table rather than at the head where every other man of his house sat. Bless him for his entertaining spirit—though he’d already bankrupted the country twice.
In that vein, the prime minister labored behind the scenes, doing everything in his power to pull the kingdom out of financial ruin. Moreover, the fellow had made a boisterous plea in the House of Lords and, after a great deal of posturing, Sher had been tasked with leading the charge to rid Britain’s shores of smugglers. In truth, he had his reservations in taking on such a daunting commission even though his role was purely to provide oversight and guidance.
A row of footmen stood at attention in the doorway, the first gesturing toward the table. “This way, Your Grace.”
Danby followed like a well-trained minion. Of late, the only time he wasn’t at the top of the pecking order was when he was a guest of the prince regent. Unable to swallow his grin, he was pleased to be shown to the chair beside Miss Kent, where he stood until all the women had been seated.
“I see the prince has spared no expense,” he said, sweeping his gaze over his place setting, including a silver table service flanked by a gold gilt wineglass cooler filled with crushed ice to chill the three glasses to his right. But this was nothing compared to the lavish display in the center of the table—the gold candelabrum, the crystal decanters between every two guests, numerous silver, glass-lined salt cellars, gilt fruit baskets, and the list went on.
Miss Kent shifted toward him while a footman filled her wineglass. “A little bird told me to save room. After the four soups, there will be three removes of fish, followed by no fewer than twenty entrees.”
“Twenty?” Sher groaned. “We’ll be here all night.”
“Quite. Surely you’ve dined with George before.”
He had, and the last time it was well past midnight when the feast finally came to an end. “He never changes.”
“No, though I fear the desserts the most.”
“Are you not fond of sweets?”
“Overly so. However, I prefer to enjoy one rather than fifteen.”
Sher sat back as a bowl of consommé was placed in front of him. “Lord save us all.”
Miss Kent’s shoulders shook with a hint of a chuckle. “Bear up, Your Grace. This, too, shall pass.”
As he selected the soup spoon and started into this marathon, Sher watched the lady out of the corner of his eye. It was interesting that she had been