Previously, on ROTH:

Prince James was forced to have a Selection by his father, so he decided to go to Brighton to hold it. The catch? He does not wish to marry, so he invited his male friends and acquaintances to marry the Selected in his place. His best friend Henry, who is also supervising the Selection, does not know, and a ball is taking place very soon...

In the last two chapters, the young Duchess Eleanor celebrated hehr 4th birthday, also marking Princess Marianne's 4th anniversary of her death in childbirth. James is grieving, but he cannot feel his wife anymore; he attends the birthday party against his better judgement, but everything goes fine... His guests have also arrived in Brighton and he can't wait to have them meet the Selected. One of the ladies, Lady Louise, recieved a letter from her father with bad news concerning her sister, who is now a pro-irish activist and a fugitive from the law...

Chapter 23: May I Have This Dance?

Pavilion, Brighton, England; August 3rd, 1815.

There was an ebullience rising up from every single room of the building. Each lady was making everything in her power to get ready for the upcoming ball that evening and to be the most beautiful lady in the ballroom and maybe, finally, be noticed and singled out by the Prince. Of course, there would be other men, there, soldiers. At least that was what Lord Henry had told them.

But for the Countess of Hailey, this Ball meant a first step back into Society, and she did not care if she was not the most beautiful woman in the room. It was a practice ball before she would attend more back in London once all of this was over. Of course, she had attended many a ball, when her husband was still alive, but she had not danced since, save for the few practice afternoons Henry had made them do.

Now, looking at herself in the mirror in her bedroom, she wondered if she had not done too much. Was her dark green dress embellished with golden lace and tiny pearls too fancy? Was the white orchid in her hair disproportionate? And the updo? Did it have too many ringlets falling out of it like a waterfall? The rouge on her cheeks and the opera gloves completed the look, as well as the golden dancing slippers she had not worn since her last ball; were they excessive as well?

"You look lovely, milady," the maid said, standing behind her, a little to the side so she would not be in the mirror with the Countess.

"Thank you," Frederika said. "Do you not think it is too much?"

"Too much? Oh, no!" the young maid replied. "It is a ball!"

"Yes, indeed." But a ball with only one man to really dance with, the others being simple soldiers to make up for lack of male partners. And a man whom she did not wish to marry. Or did she? She shook her head and took a deep breath before letting it go slowly.

"It is time, milady," the servant said.

Frederika Vaughn nodded once before turning her back to the mirror and heading down the hall and down the staircase to the largest ballroom of the Pavilion. On her way there, she met some other Selected, all dressed in their best dresses, jewels, and smiles, all a little nervous of the night ahead.

"I can't believe I'm attending my first ball ever!" Jemima cried out, barely unable to contain herself. "How many have you been to?" she asked.

"More than I can count," Frederika replied calmly.

"Exactly seventeen," Rebecca Howard said proudly, even though she was only twenty years old, being the youngest of the ladies in attendance, and had probably been out in society for only two or three years at the most.

"I have been to only two," Elsie said. "My father does not like it when I go."

The others nodded solemnly, even though they did not share her experience.

"All right, welcome to your first royal ball!" sir Henry said, as all the young ladies had gathered in the foyer, waiting. "Please do enter," – he motioned his hand to the two footmen for them to open the double doors – "His Royal Highness will be with us shortly, followed by the soldiers who will act as dancing partners for you tonight."

Frederika let the other ladies walk in first but she had to admit that the ballroom had been quite transformed and she did not recognize the room where she had played the piano for the prince and Lady Yvaine McIntyre a few days prior. The floor had been painted in the center of the room with the most beautiful arabesque; a little stage had been erected in one corner to welcome a small group of musicians who were already playing softly; against the wall with no windows was a long buffet where they could stop by during the evening for a drink, an amuse-bouche, or simply for a break from the dancing.

"Ladies and… Ladies," Henry said, "may I Introduce his Royal Highness, Prince James Schreave, Crown prince of Britain and seeker of a future wife!"

The double doors opened again, and James walked in, dressed in the finest suit Frederika had ever seen him wear. But what caught everyone's attention was not the diamond he wore on his lapel. It was the fact that not one soldier – except Captain Clinton himself – was there behind him. Unless they were all dressed in civilian clothes?

But no. She could at least recognize a few, if not half of them! Why were there here? What was happening? She quickly glanced at Henry who had changed color and was now harboring a very pale complexion to the face, as all of the blood had clearly drained from it.

"Ladies," the prince said, bowing slightly and taking off his top hat to give it to a servant as all the men followed his cue, "I would like to introduce some of my friends and acquaintances." He stepped aside and presented the men one after the other and the ladies as well, as etiquette wanted: the host highest of rank should be introducing people of lower rank together. When he was done, he invited the men to find a partner among the ladies to dance a Quadrille together, a dance that was danced in small groups of four.

"Upon my word," a man said, standing next to Frederika as neither one of them were heading to the dancefloor due to too many couples for that specific dance. "I never expected to find you here, Countess."

The Lady looked who her interlocutor was and had to stifle a laugh when she recognized him to be one of her brother's childhood friends, as both had been born in Cambridgeshire and their childhood estates had been mere miles from each other's. "Nicholas Hartford," she said. "I never– how long has it been?"

"Several years indeed," he replied, though both knew it was since she had married and left the county to live in Oxfordshire.

"How are you here?" she asked. "I do not understand."

So Sir Nicholas told her everything that James had done and why they were all there. Frederika found that quite amusing and she could not wait to hear everyone's reaction of this new development.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Henry said, having quite restored the color to his face, and interrupting the dance. "Their Majesties King James the First and Queen Margaret of Britain!"

Silence fell on the whole room as the doors opened and Frederika watched as Prince James' color went from normal to red to white. No one had been expecting their arrival. The whole room dropped in deep bows and curtsies as the two Monarchs walked in, dressed in their most regal attire, the queen's elaborate wig topping even the tallest men in the room.

/ / /

The prince's first instinct was to run and hide. But he was a gentleman, so he could not. He would face his parents head high and deal with the consequences of his actions the same way. He would deal with Henry later, as it turned out both had held out information from the other.

"Father, Mother," he said with a respectful bow. "I did not know you would be among the participants of the ball, tonight."

"Oh, dear James," his mother said with a delighted smile. "Of course, you would not know. It was a surprise, and all Henry's idea, I do believe." She looked at her husband for confirmation.

"Yes," he said. "He thought it would be interesting to have the ladies interact with royalty other than you." He paused and looked around the room, his brow frowning. "Who are these men? Henry said there would be soldiers as dance partners."

James cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back. "My guests," he replied. "I thought they would be much better dance partners than soldiers for a ball; most of them have attended many balls in London and are part of Society." He had to stay as close to the truth as he could, though he did not mention he had invited them to marry the ladies in his stead.

"Wonderful idea!" the Queen said. Then she and her husband walked to a couple of thrones that had been set up on another small stage on the opposite corner from the musicians. James had not noticed them, or if he had, he thought it was for himself. But now that his parents were here, he had to show them he was actually dancing with some of the Selected. Otherwise they would sense something was amiss.

But as it was, the Quadrille groups had already been made, and Henry restarted the dance before standing next to James. "We need to talk." He paused, keeping his eyes on the dancers. "In private."

James snorted. "We cannot," he said. "It will have to wait until after the ball."

Henry shook his head. "You are quite mad for invited these men here, Jamie. I cannot even fathom–"

"I said not now, Henry," James said, keeping a poker face and his eyes on no dancer in particular. His friend huffed and then walked away before Valery made eye contact with him and made a questioning face. He shook his face, asking her to drop the question for now. Even he didn't know what to do or think about all of this. How long would his parents be in Brighton? Would they stay with them or would they take quarters at the Royal Hotel? Would they go on to Bath, where they also had an estate to go to whenever they wished? He sincerely hoped they would stay no more than three days and then head back to London, but he doubted that would be the case.

When the first dance ended, the couples broke, footmen walked around with trays of drinks before new couples sought each other out again for the next dance. Knowing well he could not be a spectator all evening with the king breathing down his neck, he turned to the first lady closest to him, and it so happened to be Lady Diana Gray.

"May I have this dance, Lady Diana?"

"I'd be honored, my lord," she replied with a curtsy. The giddy smile that spread on her lips made his heart wince in shame: she was the first one to dance with him, but it was only because she was nearest to him. He would have to keep a mental list of the ladies with whom he danced…

He tried to be polite and civil during their dance, not looking too often away from her face and answering her conversation when they met again at each turn. Everyone was wearing gloves, so touching skin to skin was impossible. Yet being so close to a lady as he was made him only think of Mari, the one he loved to dance with the most. He was starting to regret his ball idea, for everything seemed to be against him.

After a Schottish dance with Miss Cerys Tudor – who had, by all means, decided to wear a dress, thank God –, a Polka with Lady Aislin Godfrey, and another Quadrille with Lady Letitia Davies, it was time for a Walz. He looked around the room and made it seem like he was not searching for anyone in particular and headed to the nearest Selected he had not already danced with.

"Lady Priscilla d'Herblay," he said, approaching the lady in question with a small bow of the head, "may I have this dance?"

"Why, of course, my lord," she replied with perfect manners and curtsy. He took her gloved hand and led her to the center of the floor, in the middle of the painted arabesque. They waited in position for the music to start and when they started to dance, he could not unsee how glowing and beautiful she was, dancing with him.

"I was wondering, Lady d'Herblay, if any of my guests were of your acquaintance, considering you have been introduced into Society already."

She quickly looked around and nodded. "Yes," she replied softly. "Now that you do mention it, highness, I have seen and met some of them in London." She paused and her eyes caught one of the men dressed in quite a regal suit. "I suppose everyone has heard of your cousin, Prince Aleksander."

"I suppose," he conceded. Why on earth had he invited him, of all people? "I would suggest to be wary of him, for the time being."

Priscilla smiled. "Of course, sir." She paused as she turned around the prince, following the steps of the dance. "I believe his reputation precedes him. And even if he did make advances to me, I shall ignore him." She paused again and looked at him under her lashes. "There is only one prince I wish to marry, in any case…"

James offered her a smile, but he feared it resembled more a grimace than anything else. They continued to dance in silence and when it was over, he decided upon taking a break for one dance. The air inside the room was growing hotter and hotter, despite the open windows on the patio, where he decided to go, once he had found himself a glass of champagne and a couple amuse-bouche to fill his stomach. He walked around the people and stepped outside just as the music started again on a Boulangère dance, but he was glad for the fresher air and the respite of the physical exertion.

He did not have to look to know who had joined him outside.

"I do wish, Captain, that you have danced with your sparring partner."

"Danced, sir?" he said.

"Yes. I count you among my friends, and I wish you to find a bride as well. And if that lovely Scottish lady is that person for you, then you have my blessing."

Edward Clinton snorted but quickly composed himself. "I do not think–"

"I have seen how you look at her, Clinton." He paused. "And she, you."

His bodyguard clutched his hands behind his back and sighed. "If that is what you wish, sir, I shall ask her for a dance."

"It is not what I wish, but what you wish." He paused. "But you should be quick about it before someone else takes your place." James looked at the dancing couples in the ballroom and Clinton followed his gaze: Lady Beatris McLeod was dancing with Lord Diego Culpepper, the heir to the Duke of the Infantando of Spain.

The Captain nodded and headed back inside, waiting for the next dance.

"Can we talk now?" Henry said as he joined James outside.

"No." The prince frowned and did not look at his friend. They had both done something unforgivable to the other, but James thought that inviting his parents was the worst of the two. Henry stayed a little while next to him, but was ignored by his best friend and went back inside.

The next dances passed in a blur as he tried to move down the list of ladies, and by dinner time, around eleven o'clock, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sit and eat. People sat around the long dining table were an assortment of sixty-seven dishes awaited them, and the atmosphere was more than jolly, despite the king and queen being there. Even James managed to loosen up a little thanks to the wine he was drinking.

After dinner, James still had to dance with one third of the ladies, so he went to it. If Henry had not invited his parents to Brighton for the ball, he would have danced three dances at the most, just for good measure. From the corner of his eyes, he watched his guest dance with the Selected, and he could have sworn there was electricity in the air. It often did, during balls, but he had seldom felt it. He was hopeful his plan would work.

Lady Diana Gray and Lady Labaoise Grierson were excellent dancers indeed, and he had to focus very hard not to step on their toes.

"Any news from your sister?" he whispered to the later when they were dancing.

"No," she said, her smile barely wavering. "I doubt I will have any soon, unless she appears at my door, which I highly doubt she would do, considering." Her Irish accent was letting through, and James found it extremely endearing. Maybe it was the wine, the heat of the night air, or simply that she felt more comfortable around him.

He nodded and they continued to dance in silence, though sometimes giggling for lack of balance after a tight turn in the steps.

During the last three dances of the night with Miss Rowena Talbot, Miss Henrietta Grace, and Lady Dorothea Herbert, James could barely stand, and he profusely apologized for stepping on their toes. He could not wait for the ball to be over, to tumble into his bed and to fall swiftly asleep. Outside, the sun was now starting to light up the sky, and people where yawning left and right, physically exhausted of dancing and tired of polite conversations. One by one, or sometimes by groups of two or three, the ladies headed back to their rooms with wonder filling their eyes and minds, and James also followed their example. His male guests would head back to the Gentleman's Club in town as long as the King was in the Pavilion, and James had no idea how long that would be…

Hi! wow, it's been quite some time since the last update oops! anyhow, thank you for still being there, for reading and reviewing! can't wait to read your thoughts as well^^

sorry for any typos, I changed computers and I haven't installed Grammarly yet.

There should be more updates in the near future since I'm planning on participating in Camp Nano in July with 15k words... hopefully... LOL so see you soon! bye!