The Adventuress: HFTS5 by Marion Chesney, M.C. Beaton Page A

Anastasia,” said the prince, “we are delighted to welcome you to our country.”
    The princess stood up and dropped an awkward curtsy.
    “We were not informed of your arrival by your ambassador,” pursued the prince.
    “My regrets,” murmured the princess.
    “He being the ambassador of…?” The prince looked enquiringly at the princess, who looked wildly to the earl for support.
    “I am afraid, Your Royal Highness,” said the earl, “that our princess is …” He reached forward and lifted the wig from Princess Anastasia’s head. “None other than Mr. Jason Fitzgerald, at your service.”
    Fitz bowed from the waist. The Prince Regent gazed at him, outraged.
    Then, from behind them, Emily began to laugh. It was a clear, ringing, infectious laugh. The prince turned about and surveyed her. She was holding her sides and laughing whole-heartedly.
    “Gad’s ’oonds!” cried the prince. “You devil, Fleetwood.” He began to laugh as well. Everyone began to laugh helplessly, and those that did not know what the prince was laughing at, for they were still jammed out on the staircase, nonetheless began to laugh as well. For if something amused the Prince Regent, then it followed that everyone else
must
be amused, whether they knew the joke or not.
    “Who is this?” demanded the prince, when he had finished laughing, looking at Emily.
    “May I present London’s famous beauty,” said the earl, “Miss Emily Goodenough.” He looked to where Mr. Goodenough stood behind Emily, trembling with hope and excitement. “And her uncle, Mr. Goodenough, and her companion, Mrs. Middleton.”
    Emily, despite her beauty, was forgotten as the prince looked at the shaking awe and admiration on Mr. Goodenough’s twisted face.
    His portly chest swelled. He extended two podgy fingers. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Goodenough,” he said.
    White with excitement, Mr. Goodenough shook those royal fingers. “Your Royal Highness,” he gasped, “I shall treasure this moment until the day I die.”
    “Tol rol,” said the prince, waving a dismissive hand, but looking vastly pleased. “And Mrs. Middleton, is it not? Charmed.”
    Mrs. Middleton looked at him with hero-worship in her eyes.
    Becoming more pleased by the minute, the prince chucked Emily under the chin. “Indeed a beauty,” he said. “Going to snatch her up, hey, Fleetwood?”
    “If Miss Goodenough will give me a chance to do so,” said the earl smoothly. “Giles! Champagne for His Highness, if you please.”
    The laughing crowd moved around the prince and cut him off from Emily’s view.
    Emily stood stunned. She had met the Prince Regent! What was more important, Mr. Goodenough had met the Prince Regent. Surely they needed nothing more from this Season.
    Voices rose and fell about her. “We shall have to plan something different for
our
rout,” said one. “Princesses are quite exploded, my dear. I suppose that Miss Goodenough was playing a joke on us as well. Still, now she has Prinny’s favour, she can do no wrong. I never thought she was a princess anyway.”
    “But she is high ton,” said another voice, “or Fleetwood would never have proposed to her in front of the prince.”
    “He never did!”
    “Not in so many words, but that is what he implied. And Fleetwood is a very high stickler. Goodenough. Never heard of them. Must hail from the untitled aristocracy.”
    Emily heaved a sigh of relief. At least she did not have to pretend to be a princess any more.
    She signalled to a dazed Mrs. Middleton that they should take their leave.
    Joseph followed them down the staircase, muttering, “Oh, my! Oh, my! Wait until I tell Rainbird. Our own Mrs. Middleton meeting the prince. Oh, my!”
    Joseph could hardly wait to get to the servants’ hall to tell everyone the news. But Emily, elated and delighted that her role as princess was over, summoned the staff into the front parlour and asked Rainbird to serve them all champagne.
    “I am