I heard Rosanna hold her breath as Prince Andrew inclined his head towards Ella, whose downturned eyes were the picture of demureness. Rosanna let out a disappointed sigh as Andrew finally stopped in front of Ashley Mayfair, bowing before her and offering his hand to lift her from her curtsey. They exchanged a few familiar words, clearly past acquaintances thanks to Ashley's family's wealth and influence.

The musicians started once again and the other ladies were paired off. Ashley's smug smile as she fell into step across from Andrew was unmistakable. I could hardly fault him for she was easily the most stunningly decked out of the seven debutantes and given her family's connections, an easy first choice for Andrew. Ella was paired with a nervous looking man of about the prince's age. He blinked rapidly, clearly flustered to be dancing with a lady as fine as my cousin.

"William Weatherington," Rosanna leaned over to whisper when she followed my eyes, "His father is Lord Admiral of the Royal Navy,"

"He hardly looks the son of an admiral," I whispered back. Rosanna's lips twitched before she could arrange them into a thin line once again, but the smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.

"Easily the most timid of the bunch," she said, before straightening to watch the dance. Ashley spent the bulk of the dance twirling in the prince's arms, elated, before they switched off. Ella danced with him for a few mere seconds, barely able to lift her long-lashed eyes to look at him. I could hear Emily's frustrated grunt from across Rosanna.

"Patience," Rosanna hissed when Emily crossed her arms, scowling.

"Look at the competition," Emily hissed back, nodding her head as Andrew caught Ashley again, her blond head thrown back in laughter, the light glinting off the jewels in her hair, "She has to be aggressive, not demure!"

"Tis but the first dance," Rosanna chided gently, to which Emily clucked impatiently. I turned my attention to the royal family up on the dais. The king had leaned over to say something to the queen, a polite smile on her face as she nodded, watching her son twirl around the dance floor. Next to her, Thomas' face was screwed up in concentration as he stared up at the chandelier. I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing aloud. He was counting the candles in the chandelier, a technique my older brother Xavier had taught me as a way to spend the time when bored at a ball or dinner function. Next to him, Princess Anne sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, her razor sharp eyes still running over the dancing debutantes. My gaze must have drawn hers for our eyes met for a few seconds before she returned to the perusal of the candidates, apparently satisfied that I was of little importance.

When the dance still hadn't ended, I sighed, discreetly looking up and sideways in an attempt to count the candles in the nearest chandelier. Next to me, Rosanna seemed perfectly comfortable to stand by and watch the ball unfold, whereas my heeled slippers were setting my feet to ache and I longed to wrap my fingers around a glass of champagne or a plate of roasted quail.

I hadn't realized the music had ended until Emily had crossed onto the dance floor, heedless of Rosanna's hissed warning. Other ladies in waiting had made their way onto the floor as well, casting looks around for a partner, eager to participate. A surge of well dressed noblemen of varying ages and stations met them as the band drew up for the next song.

"A dance, my lady?"

My eyes had been seeking out the nearest servant with a tray of glasses and I had to whip my head around to see a man bowing before me. Rosanna cleared her throat as if to say something, but I spoke first.

"Of course," I smiled, placing my gloved hand into his outstretched one. He was fair haired and a few inches taller than me, but when he smiled his two front teeth protruded to give him the semblance of a braying horse. Rosanna made a displeased noise beside me, but I ignored her as my partner maneuvered me onto the dance floor, the band tuning up for a cotillion. I arranged my skirts as the rest of the dancers took their places, praying that I would remember all those dance lessons I'd giggled my way through in finishing school. I could feel Rosanna's watchful eyes boring a hole in my back.

Three couples down from us, the prince had partnered with Mary Marquette for his second dance, the two exchanging easy smiles, apparently also not newly acquainted. The dance started up and I stepped towards my partner, turning around him and resuming my place, only to come face to face with the prince as we switched partners. He offered me a polite smile as our hands met, only to have his brow crease into a frown.

"You're not a maid," he said, a statement instead of a question. I felt my cheeks flame as I completed my circle around him.

"No, your Highness," I replied, before we separated. He threw a quizzical look at me over his shoulder before turning to meet his new partner. I swallowed, pasting a smile into place as I spun around my next partner, the darkly handsome man who'd asked Ella to dance. He glanced down at me but briefly before looking away, no doubt searching for a more attractive partner to look at.

I twirled around one more partner until I returned to the horse-faced man who had asked me to dance. He introduced himself as Oliver Pendleton as we moved through the steps of the dance. I had just enough time to introduce myself before we broke away again.

This time, the prince's look was determined as his hand clasped mine again.

"And you're not a debutante," he said, once again a statement rather than a question. I fought a smile. Was our prince this dim-witted?

"No, your Highness," I repeated.

"Then who are you?" he asked, thoroughly confused. I didn't have the time to answer him before we turned away from each other. This time, the dark-haired man paid me little heed as his eyes followed Penelope Roxton over my shoulder. We ran through the steps until I joined up with Oliver once again, finishing the dance with a curtsey and a bow.

As I rose, I caught the prince's eyes on me, but a circle of women had arranged themselves around him, cocking their heads prettily in an attempt to entice him into an invitation to dance. The band started into a sarabande when I felt a slender hand close roughly around my elbow.

"You'd do well to remember your place," Emily hissed in my ear, leading me from the dance floor to where Rosanna was wringing her hands, watching us.

"And how exactly must I do so? By leaping onto the dance floor the second they open it up to non-debutantes?" I fired back at her, satisfied with the pink heat that rose into her cheeks.

"That was unacceptable, Elizabeth," Rosanna said, still wringing her hands, "I think you should no longer be permitted to dance tonight,"

"Why?" I demanded, "Am I really that terrible a dancer?"

"You danced with the prince! And you spoke to him!" Emily hissed, assuming her place next to Rosanna as the prince bowed to Penelope Roxton, selecting her for his next dance.

"How was I supposed to know I'd be in the prince's formation?" I demanded, crossing my arms with a huff.

"You are a lady in waiting, not a debutante. Your place is as an ornament, not as competition," Rosanna said smoothly, the words brittle and cold. I clenched my teeth, turning my eyes toward the chandelier.

"I highly doubt that I'd be considered as competition by any of these ladies," I managed through my teeth. Rosanna's scowl deepened as I cursed my luck; I'd managed my first dance at court so successfully that I'd stepped on toes that weren't even my partner's.

"I think we would be best aided by some refreshments," Rosanna said finally, after we had watched two more dances, the prince selecting a new partner each time. Ella remained one of only two debutantes who hadn't danced with him yet.

"I certainly agree," I said, relieved to finally be able to move from my sentry post beside the dance floor. Rosanna led the way towards the refreshment tables at the side of the room. She spooned us each a glass of punch before leading us to stand by the wall. As I sipped, I glanced up at the royal family.

The younger prince and princess had long since adjourned, too young to participate this season. The king and queen had joined in for the courante, but had resumed their places afterwards, various attendants now seated around them, talking in low murmurs. The queen's eyes rarely left her son as she spoke with some of her ladies in waiting, eyeing each of his partners in turn.

"Will there be enough dances for Ella to dance with the prince?" Emily asked archly, her question meant as a barb to me.

"Of course! There are only seven debutantes after all," Rosanna said, the corners of her mouth drooping as Andrew bowed to Ashley Mayfair once again. I squirmed, praying that he would finally ask my cousin to dance, for surely if I was the only one of the group to have spoken with the prince that night it wouldn't bode well for my remaining a lady in waiting.

Our punch finished, we moved as a trio to stand between the marble columns that lined the room. Once again, we watched as Ella danced with yet another partner, her smile still in place despite the looks she kept shooting the prince's way. When the dance ended, her partner very chivalrously offered to fetch her some punch, at which point Rosanna led the charge towards them. We hovered a polite distance away, until she curtseyed to her parter and he bowed, moving away from her.

"You danced marvellously, Ella!" Rosanna clapped as my cousin sipped her punch.

"It is quite exerting," was her only reply. I fought hard not to roll my eyes. Ella had always been the darling child of the family, the delicate young thing too pretty to damage. It vexed me to the core that she would be satisfied being so fragile, feigning exhaustion from simple dancing.

"Dorian Fletcher asked you for the first dance as well!" Emily enthused, finally coaxing a small smile from Ella.

"But alas, not the prince," she said, looking down in to her punch. I wanted to shake the melancholy look from her face and was of half a mind to spin her around and shove her back out towards the dance floor. Rosanna and Emily tittered comforts to her as my eyes wandered anew, only to settle on the alarming sight of the prince headed our way.

He was looking at me, that same amused determination in his eyes as he wove through the crowd toward us. Panicked, I turned to Ella, attempting to look extremely interested in her overdramatized sadness. To my horror, he pulled up behind her, pausing to clear his throat. Emily's eyes grew as she noticed him, dropping into a deep curtsey. Startled, Ella turned around before dropping her own curtsey. I took advantage of the reverence to hide my face, hoping he would think to address Ella first.

"I was hoping to present myself," Prince Andrew said, as the other three rose from their curtseys. Rosanna gave me a not-so-subtle nudge with her foot when I didn't rise.

"Of course, your Highness," Ella smiled, dimpling prettily as she extended her hand to his, "Ella Canterbury,"

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ella," he said, bending his head to kiss the back of her gloved hand. As he straightened, I didn't miss the look he shot me.

"Shall we dance?" he asked her, offering his elbow. Ella accepted it instantly, something flowery fluttering from her lips as he led her towards the dance floor. I sagged with relief against the marble column.

"Well that was certainly something," Rosanna said, flipping open her fan to bat it vigorously, "He is so impossibly handsome,"

I snorted before I could stop myself, winning me withering looks from both ladies.