Kitty had a tilting smile.
“Less to me than to other people, perhaps, my dear Lafone, since I have the privilege of being so constantly in Their Majesties’ company.”
“True, true. It must be a sad fatigue for you. Her Majesty has no mercy on her ladies’ legs, I always heard.” The minx’s eyes were wandering. “But His Royal Highness has remained, I trust? ’Twas the talk of the place how he was expected.”
“His Royal Highness has left Weymouth, I understand.”
Kitty was really too unconcerned. It could take in nobody, Lady Anne Day thought. She bit into a rose of her bouquet, and wished she could beat Lafone about the head with it.
“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, who could have told you such a tale? His Royal Highness is even now sitting at the window of the County Club, eating lobster by the light of a silver candelabra. I saw him as my chair was carried by. Surely he will present himself at supper time? The Prince is always so courteous, so considerate.”
“Pray, Mrs. Lafone, the quadrille is beginning. Have you a partner? Or shall I provide you with a gentleman?”
Molly rolled her glistening green eyes with well-feigned anxiety from side to side.
“Well, there’s an old promise to my Lord Kilcroney. He made me swear to give him the first dance at the next assembly, wherever we might happen to meet. Ah—is he not yonder? Nay, ’tis quite another countenance. But he will be at your Ladyship’s side in a moment, I make no doubt.”
“My Lord has left Weymouth.”