Lord Mottley bowed stiffly to them, and moved off.

"Trahern, you have a tongue like a rusty knife," Aurora said. "Not only do you cut, you leave infection behind. What on earth do you have against poor Lord Mottley?"

"The man's a bore," Trahern said offhandedly. "Were you at school with him, Hawkesworth?"

The duke nodded, amused. Robert Mottley was a good-natured fellow, but Trahern was right. He was a bore, and Trahern did not suffer fools easily, or gladly. "And have you enjoyed yourself spreading our little scandal about London?" he faintly mocked Trahern.

"I spread it only with the people who count," Trahern replied, slightly offended. "It does no good to gossip indiscriminately, my dear fellow. I would have thought you knew that. Have you presented yourselves to Bute yet?"

"We have only just arrived, and I haven't been able to find him in this crush, Trahern," the duke replied.

"Of course you haven't," Trahern answered. "He is in the Blue Drawing Room with their majesties, presenting newcomers. Come along, and I will show you where it is." He hurried off.

They followed dutifully behind, Aurora's eyes gazing at everything in sight. The ballroom was a magnificent place, all carved gilt, and walls painted with lush romantic themes. Plaster medallions gilded in gold and silver framed the painted ceiling with its depiction of ripe-breasted goddesses and half-naked gods at play. The crystal chandeliers and the gilt wall scones twinkled with a thousand beeswax tapers. Gilded wood chairs and settees upholstered in crimson velvet lined the room at one end of which a dais for the musicians had been set up. Everyone was dressed beautifully. How Cally would have loved it all, Aurora thought, and all I want to do is go home to Hawkes Hill. I do not like London. It is much too big and noisy.

They exited the ballroom, following Lord Trahern down a picture-lined gallery. At its end was a double door. The two footmen standing on either side of the door flung it wide, allowing them to pass through into the Blue Drawing Room, so named for its blue velvet draperies and blue upholstery. Immediately a tall gentleman with a long, aristocratic face came forward, his hand outstretched in greeting. He did not smile, but his demeanor was a pleasant one.

"Hawkesworth, my dear fellow, I am delighted that you were able to join us this evening," the Earl of Bute said politely.

"I am grateful for your lordship's patronage in this matter," the duke replied. He drew Aurora forward. "May I present my wife to you, sir? Aurora, this is the Earl of Bute."

"The true heiress?" The Earl of Bute's blue eyes twinkled mischievously for a moment. "Madam, I am honored to make your acquaintance. I hope you will soon be able to return home, although the court will be at a loss for your departure." He kissed her hand and bowed gallantly.

Aurora curtsied prettily. "I thank your lordship for his kindness to my husband and myself. This is a great honor. I cannot wait to write to my mother to tell her of this evening."

"Come along, then, and let me present you to their majesties," the earl said, and drew them over to where the king and queen stood.

The king was a handsome young man with a fair complexion, blond hair, and slightly protruding blue eyes. He was the first of the House of Hanover to have been born and raised entirely in England, a fact of which he was extremely proud. Unlike his grandfather, George II, and his great-grandfather, George I, he had no German accent, English being his first tongue. The young queen, while not a beauty, had a pleasant little face, sparkling blue eyes, and reddish-blond hair. She was only seventeen, while the king was twenty-three.

"Your majesty," said the Earl of Bute, "may I present to you Valerian Hawkesworth, the Duke of Farminster, and the Lady Aurora, his duchess. They were unable to be at your majesties' wedding, or coronation last autumn, and have come up to London especially to pay their respects to your majesty. The duke, like your majesty, has a deep love of agriculture, and spends his time down in the country, overseeing his estates. He raises excellent cattle and horses."

The king's face lit up immediately. "You farm?" he said.

"Yes, your majesty, I do," replied the duke with a bow.

"Where are your estates?"

"In Herefordshire, your majesty" was the response.

"We must come and see one day," the king said. "Would you believe that I envy you, Hawkesworth? I should like nothing better than to farm my lands."

"But England needs you, your majesty," the duke told the king graciously. "You will rule this land with equity and justice."

"You have a courtier's tongue to match your farmer's heart." The king chuckled. Then he turned to his wife. "May I present her majesty to you, your grace. My dear, this is the Duke of Farminster."

The duke greeted the queen while King George turned his attention back to Aurora, who immediately curtsied to him.

"I am told, madam, that you are a petite cause célèbre," he said. "What on earth did you do to earn such a reputation. You would appear to be a respectable and sensible young woman."

With a pretty blush that immediately convinced the king of her honesty, Aurora briefly explained, concluding, "I was very foolish, I fear, your majesty."

"Indeed you were," the king scolded her, "but the good Lord has given you a second chance, your grace, and you have taken it, and are happy, I can see. Do you like your country life?"

"Oh, yes, your majesty!" Aurora said enthusiastically. "I love Hawkes Hill, and miss it so! It will be a wonderful place to raise our children. Children thrive in the country."

"And you desire children, your grace?"

"Oh, yes!" she told him.

The king smiled. Whatever waywardness this young woman was accused of, she had obviously repented, and would be a good wife to her husband and an excellent mother to their children. King George approved of such a woman. He wanted an England full of them. "Let me present you to the queen," he said to Aurora, and did so.

Aurora curtsied to Queen Charlotte, and was rewarded with a smile. "You were not born here," the queen observed cleverly.

"No, your majesty, I was born on the island of St. Timothy, in the Caribbean, where I lived until I came to England a little over a year ago. St. Timothy was a grant to my family from King Charles II."

"How do you live on an island?" the queen inquired, curious.

"We raise sugar cane, your majesty," Aurora said.

"Do you have slaves?"

"Yes, we do, for you cannot raise sugar without them. The labor is intense and difficult," Aurora explained. "We do not mistreat our slaves, however, your majesty. They are as valuable to us as the cane itself."

"I have heard that is not the case on the other islands," the Earl of Bute noted.

"No, it is not. Most of the planters treat their slaves as if they were expendable because they can easily obtain more. My family did not feel it was a Christian way to act, and besides, it takes longer to retrain new slaves than to treat the ones you have decently. We harvest as much sugar as any other plantation our size. Our cost to do so is less because we aren't always replacing our labor with new labor, and our profits are therefore greater."

The king chuckled again. "Hawkesworth, I do believe you have yourself a most practical little wife. You are very fortunate."

Valerian Hawkesworth smiled broadly. "Yes, your majesty, I certainly am, and I suspect your majesty shares my good fortune in the queen." He bowed gallantly to Charlotte.

The queen's eyes twinkled, and she was obviously quite pleased with the duke's compliment.

The Earl of Bute now stepped forward once more. "Your majesties, I do believe it is time for you to formally open the ball," he said quietly.

The king nodded, then said, "Follow along behind us, my dear Farminster. I will want to talk with you one day soon about an idea I have regarding the land. You will be in London until spring?"

"Yes, your majesty," Valerian Hawkesworth said.

They reentered the ballroom, walking directly after the royal couple. Behind them, the Earl of Bute came along with Lord Trahern, who could scarcely contain himself with delight at this temporary elevation in his status.

The musicians began to play, and the king led the queen onto the floor along with the Duke and Duchess of Farminster. As the minuet began, the other guests joined them. The king danced the second dance with Aurora, while Valerian partnered the queen.

"Your success is assured in high society now," Lord Trahern assured her later in the evening as he escorted her to the buffet for a glass of champagne. "They may gossip their tittle-tattle down in the country, but you are a triumph here in London, mon ange."

"And what exactly does a triumph do in London, Trahern?" Aurora asked him. "One cannot attend balls all the time."

"Heavens, no!" Trahern exclaimed. "There are routs, and racing, picnics, and boating, gambling for the gentlemen, cards for the ladies, and, of course, one makes calls and leaves cards. You do have cards, my dear Aurora, don't you?"

"Cards?" She looked confused. "What sort of cards?"

"No cards?" Lord Trahern looked scandalized. "Oh, my dear, it will simply not do. I shall call upon you tomorrow, and we shall go to Mr. Dove's shop. He is the finest cardmaker in London, nay, I lie, in all of England. You absolutely must have cards if you are to make calls, mon ange."