The air was very cold, smoke hung low over Bath, and the light from carriage lamps and linkboys’ torches was muted as society arrived at the Assembly Rooms. But there was nothing muted about the military band that played with gusto outside the main entrance, ready to play the national anthem as soon as the Duke and Duchess of York’s cavalcade was in the offing. Not that the royal party’s approach would be unhindered, for the press of people and vehicles that had gathered in this one small comer of Bath had to be seen to be believed. In Polly’s opinion, a snail would get there quicker! She sat in Lord Benjamin’s carriage, keeping as far into the corner of the seat as she could, because his lordship had plumped himself right next to her, his thigh almost touching hers. Her uncle seemed blissfully unaware of the situation; indeed if she was not mistaken he was doing his utmost to ignore it! She fiddled with her fan and reticule and tried to think of something more pleasant than Lord Benjamin Beddem.
