Regrettably, for the second time that night, I found myself using my drunken sister as a distraction. I gestured toward the settee.
“Amy?” My stepmother frowned as she took in the sight of Amy’s inert, disheveled form.
Amy roused at the sound of her mother’s voice, enough to open one bleary eye. My sister had reached that stage when the ebullience produced by the wine had been replaced by the inevitable drinker’s remorse.
She moaned, “Don’t feel good, Mama.”
“Oh, my dearest girl!” Em fluttered over to the settee. She bent down to caress Amy’s brow only to reel back in shock at the strong whiff of spirits emanating from my sister’s breath.
I exchanged a rueful look with Horatio before hastening toward Em to explain. I would have preferred to do so without Lord Redmond present. I knew nothing about Chuffy other than he was Em’s former suitor and an accomplished flirt. He seemed fond of my stepmother, but I had no idea whether his discretion was to be trusted.
His Lordship appeared discomfited by our little family drama, enough that I hoped he would make his excuses and leave. When he did not do so, I was obliged to proceed.
I told Em what had happened as succinctly as possible, all the while conscious of that clock ticking away. I braced myself for anything from a bout of tears to complete hysterics. I was surprised when Em only clucked her tongue at Amy.
“To be sure, Amy and Prince Dall did behave imprudently—”
“Dashie,” Amy mumbled.
“But if there is a possibility the young man has fallen in love with her and intends to make her his princess…”
“Won’t live that long,” Amy groaned. “Think I am dying, Mama.”
From the gleam in my stepmother’s eye, I surmised that she was already planning a royal wedding. Em could be rather foolish at times and indulge in the most preposterous fantasies, but this was a bit much, even for her.
“Em! Prince Dall’s intentions toward Amy were completely dishonorable,” I said.
“Indeed!” Lord Redmond had listened to my account in grave silence. He startled me when he spoke up. “Young rascal ought to be thrashed.”
“Chuffy!” Em protested. “You are speaking of a prince.”
“Who did his best to ruin Amy’s reputation and he would have succeeded if not for Commander Crushington. You must thank him…” I trailed off as I realized that at some point Horatio had stolen quietly out of the room.
“Of course, I shall express my gratitude to the commander,” Em said. “I shall send him a note in the morning.”
“A note? No, you must do it up proper and invite the young man to tea,” Lord Redmond insisted.
“But, Chuffy!” Em lowered her voice and muttered something about not wanting to encourage the commander’s attentions to me.
“Eh? Why not?”
“For one thing, the man is very likely a foundling,” Em whispered.
“What of it? I never judge a man by his parentage or lack thereof. The commander appears to be a splendid, sensible fellow, honorable and all that.” Chuffy winked at me. “And quite handsome.”
My opinion of Em’s old beau soared by a great many notches. I would be pleased to know him better, but now was not the time.
Quarter ’til midnight, the clock ticked. I backed away toward the door.
Em looked a little chastened and ashamed enough to concede, “I am sure Commander Crushington is a worthy young man, if you say so, Chuffy. I will invite him to call in order to express my gratitude.” She added with a sigh, “If only he were a prince.”
I made no retort, merely stated my intention to fetch Netta. But as I bolted out of the sitting room I reflected that from what I had seen of the behavior of princes, I was very glad that Horatio was not one.
As I hurried down the palace steps toward the garden, I felt the blister on my heel break. I pulled up short, sucking in my breath at the pain, but I had to keep going. Above the ornate arch leading into the garden was a clock tower. The hands of the massive timepiece clicked up a notch.
Five minutes until midnight. I was never going to make the rendezvous in time. As I hobbled beneath the arch and down the flagstone walkway set between the colorful flower beds, I prayed, “I am coming, Mal. Please, please, please don’t do anything stupid.”
My sore heel prevented me from breaking into a run. My progress was also impeded by the number of other guests strolling the garden paths in anticipation of the fireworks. Ordinarily, I would have attracted too much attention, a wild-eyed limping woman, muttering to herself.
But everyone that I dodged past appeared to be young couples, entirely lost in each other. Some held hands, some walked arm in arm, heads bent close together while others playfully chased each other through the hedges, giggling and stealing kisses.
The palace gardens were a lovers’ paradise, the moon shining softly overhead, the night sky spangled with stars, the air perfumed with the mingled scents of lilac, roses and sweet honeysuckle. So many private nooks to choose from, wooden benches tucked in the shadows of tall yew hedges, hidden away from the glare of the lighted torches. The hushed burble of the fountains seemed to echo all the lovers’ sighs.
I was surrounded by the sort of romance that Em had promised this ball would be. But not for me, I thought with a pang. I wondered how differently this evening might have gone, if I had not had to steal the orb for Mal, if I had never crossed paths with Harper again, rekindling poignant memories and tearing open that old wound. If I could have had my dance with Horatio and walked those garden paths with him…would my bruised heart have finally been open to the prospect of a new love?
I would never know. Nor did I have the time for such repining and speculation. I expected to hear the clock strike midnight at any moment and I had only gotten as far as the green roundel of grass at the very center of the garden. As I paused to catch my breath, I spotted my missing sister.
The golden yews had been clipped to form a pediment and just beyond that, Netta and Sergeant Wharton perched demurely side by side on a stone bench, an ugly aura cat curled up at the sergeant’s feet. My sister leaned down and petted the fearsome beast.
Was this how Netta had spent the entire ball, in the company of this handsome young guard? Em would be horrified, but I had never seen our shy Netta look more animated or happier, not even when she was playing her harp. I recognized that starry-eyed expression. I had seen it reflected in the mirror the summer I had fallen in love with Harper.
Netta’s tall young swain appeared equally smitten. Neither of them noticed me observing them between the branches of the yew. Even the aura cat did no more than lift its head, peer lazily in my direction, before settling back down onto its huge paws.
Em would have expected me to limp over there and order Netta back to the palace forthwith. My stepmother would never consent to Netta pursuing an acquaintance with a lowly Scutcheon even if he did work at the castle. His Majesty deemed it a privilege to serve in his palace guard, but everyone knew that was simply the king’s excuse not to pay his sentries anything beyond bed and board. None of them could afford to take a wife.
There would be plenty of time to pry Netta away from her new admirer after I found Mal. Let my sister enjoy whatever moments remained of her romantic idyll, I thought sadly as I limped off in the opposite direction.
As Mal had instructed me, I headed deeper into the palace grounds where the garden had been fashioned to resemble a pretty wilderness, the shrubs and hedges less well trimmed. It was quiet and deserted here, not a good location for viewing the fireworks. No charming nooks with benches here, the towering oaks blocked any vista of open sky.
The path was rougher as well, pebbles instead of flagstones. I swore when a particularly sharp stone poked the bottom of my dancing slipper. But there at long last, bathed in a ray of moonlight, was the old vine-covered gate that would lead me beyond the palace grounds to the woodland. I might just manage to make my rendezvous with Mal on time after all.
Heartened, I picked up my pace, despite my aching feet. I was feeling so jubilant, it took me a moment to realize I was being followed. I heard the crunch of pebbles dislodged. Before I could react, someone slung his arm over my shoulders. I let out a frightened squeak as I was yanked back against a hard wall of chest.
Horatio, was my alarmed thought, but I knew the commander would never have grabbed me so roughly. If this was one of the palace guards, he was far exceeding his authority to be manhandling a guest in such fashion and so I would tell him.
“Bella.” My skin prickled at the feel of hot breath on my neck as a familiar voice rasped in my ear.
I froze for a moment and then managed to squirm free. Spinning around, I came face-to-face with Prince Florian. His golden mane hung wildly about the chiseled planes of his face.
“Aha, there you are,” he cried.
Yes, there I was. Unfortunately. Recovering from the fright he had given me, I bobbed a curtsy.
“I have been looking for you everywhere, beautiful Bella,” he said.
“You have?”
Something about the way he smiled disquieted me. I took a wary step back only to have him follow.
“Yes. You stole something from me.”
My heart stopped. He knew. Prince Florian knew I had taken the orb. How was that even possible?
The blood drained from my face. “No, Your Highness. I have taken nothing, I assure you.”
“You have, you enchanting little thief.” Florian almost tipped over backward as he struck one fist dramatically against his chest. “You stole my heart.”
I went almost limp with relief. As soon as I could breathe again, I gave a nervous titter and tried to jest. “Oh, that. Well, if you will just leave your heart lying about like that. I found it dropped along the herbaceous border. But I am happy to return it to you.”
Florian flung back his head and emitted a…I could not really call it a laugh, more like a bizarre high-pitched giggle.
“You are amusing. I like that in a girl,” he said as he teetered toward me.
Wonderful, I thought in disgust. The prince was as drunk as my sister.
But when a shaft of moonlight pierced the branches of the trees, I caught a glimmer of a silvery powder near his nostrils. As he moved closer, his pupils were so wide, they threatened to swallow up the rest of his eyes.
Not drunk. Even worse, the man was totally pixified.
“Keep my heart. Don’t want it, don’t need it,” he declared in a singsong tone. “I have decided that you are the one, Bella. The one destined to be my bride.”
“What!” I was so stunned, it took me a moment to gather my wits enough to protest.
“Oh, no, no, no. I am quite certain I am not.”
“I have danced with many lovely ladies, but none compare to you.” He lunged, trying to take me into his arms. His movements were so clumsy, I evaded his grasp.
“There are a lot of women here tonight. You can’t possibly have danced with all of them,” I said. “You should go back to the ballroom and have another look around.”
“Don’t need to. I knew from the moment I saw you, you were the one.”
Was that before or after he had started sniffing the pixie dust? I wondered. I retreated until my back struck up against the trunk of a massive oak, leaving me nowhere else to go. Florian leaned in, bracing one arm on either side of me.
“Will you be my princess, Bella? May I sweep you off to my castle to live happily ever after?”
“Frap, no! I…I mean, I am deeply sensible of the honor and all that, but—”
His mouth crashed down hard against mine. I issued a muffled protest, but that was a huge mistake. When my lips parted, Florian thrust his tongue in my mouth.
It was like a warm wet eel darting about, trying to slither its way down my throat. I gagged, feeling like I was going to be sick or suffocate. I pounded on his back in a futile effort to make him stop. When that did not work, I seized two handfuls of his hair and pulled as hard as I could.
He ended the kiss with a gasp. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
As he struggled to pry my hands out of his hair, he stumbled back and kept right on going until he fell, landing on his rump. I saw my chance and made a break for it. Florian rolled to his side and snagged hold of my skirt.
“Let go before you rip my gown” I cried, trying to disengage the fabric from his grasp.
Florian struggled to his knees and gazed up at me with a vacuous grin. “You’re feisty. I like that in a girl.” He lifted up my skirt.
“Stop it, you great frapping oaf!” By this time, I was far beyond worrying about the respect due to royalty. I struck out wildly, kicking him in the chest. My blows might have been far more effective if I had been wearing the glass slippers instead of soft leather.
Florian only giggled. He released my skirt and grabbed hold of my foot. I jerked as hard as I could to pull free. My shoe came off in his hand and I went flying backward into a shrub. Florian flew in the opposite direction, smacking his head against a tree root.
The branches scraped my hands and I heard my gown tear as I fought to regain my footing. From a great distance, I could hear the castle clock toll midnight, followed by a shrill whistle and the first burst of fireworks. I swore as I limped to my feet, bracing myself for another assault from Florian.
The prince had not moved from where he had fallen beneath the tree. My first impulse was to flee toward the gate, but I was held back by a sense of uneasiness. The prince was still. Far too still.
“Your Highness?” I ventured.
No response. As another barrage of fireworks lit up the night sky, I called more loudly, “Prince Florian?”
I could discern no movement of the prince whatsoever, not even the rise and fall of his chest. I groaned. Could this night possibly get any worse? So much for all my vows to become Arcady’s most respectable law-abiding subject. So much for my promise to Horatio to keep out of trouble.
I imagined myself going to him and saying, Remember how you told me I should come to you if I found myself in difficulty? Well, I think I might have accidentally killed the heir to the throne.
The thought almost caused me to break into hysterical laughter. I clapped my hand to my mouth to stifle the mad sound. Gathering up my nerve, I crept closer to the prince.
“Florian?” I tried again.
To my relief, he moaned and his eyes fluttered open. Not dead, only dazed. He stared upward, a blank look on his face as another cascade of fireworks erupted above us, a shower of golden sparks visible through the foliage of the tree.
“What happened? Is the castle under attack?” he mumbled. “I should go get my sword.”
“Yes, you do that and I…I will go rally the guards,” I said, backing away. The idiot was still clutching my slipper, but I was not about to risk getting close enough to wrestle it away from him.
I turned and made for the gate as fast as I could hobble. The latch was rusted shut and I had to shove with all my strength. In my current state of mind, I think I could have kicked my way through a solid brick wall to get away.
The latch gave with a loud creak. I thrust the gate open and hopped through it into the parkland beyond. I could have moved faster if I had paused to shed my other shoe. I did not dare. I did not think that Prince Florian could rouse himself to pursue me, but I was not taking any chances.
During the days of Queen Anthea, the area beyond the castle had been designated common land, shared by cottagers for grazing their sheep. After King Cuthbert had claimed the throne, he had not wanted any peasants or their livestock that close to his palace. He had appropriated the commons to add to his hunting grounds and evicted the shepherds from their cottages.
Consequently, the meadow had become so overgrown, the tall grasses impeded my flight as though I waded through a stagnant pond. I shot a nervous look over my shoulder and was relieved that there was no Prince Florian lumbering after me. I appeared to be safe…for now.
I turned to disc
over a dark shadow looming over me. Before I could let out an alarmed shriek, another blaze of fireworks lit up the night sky and I realized it was Mal.
Clad all in black with a scarf knotted around his head and a cutlass strapped to his side, Mal looked more like a river pirate than ever. Recovering from my fright, I snapped at him, “Hawkridge! What the blazes do you think you are doing this close to the castle?”
“Coming for you. Where have you been?”
“I can’t be more than ten minutes late. Why didn’t you wait for me at the rendezvous?”
“I told you that if you weren’t there by midnight, I would assume you were in trouble and come to help.”
“Because getting yourself captured or killed would be so helpful. Idiot!” I socked him as hard as I could in the arm.
“Ow!” Mal rubbed his shoulder, eyeing me reproachfully.
I did not care. I had had all I could tolerate of masculine stupidity for one evening. I seized Mal’s hand and dragged him along in my wake.
“Come on! Before you trigger some sort of magical alarm or one of those horrid aura cats get a sense of Hawkridge aura.”
“All right. I’m coming. But why are you limping? And why do you look as though you are fleeing from a horde of goblins?”
“Worse than a goblin. Prince Florian.”
“Florian? Why would the hair apparent be chasing after you?”
“Because he wants to marry me.”
“What!”
I pulled up short and punched Mal again. He gasped. “What was that for?”
“That was for telling me that I had nothing to worry about, that there was no chance he would choose me for his bride.”
“He shouldn’t have, not if you gave him the sharp end of your tongue like you usually do me. Never tell me you were actually sweet to the man.”
“No! When he proposed to me, I pulled his hair and I kicked him and called him names.”
“Not the usual response a fellow expects when he asks a girl to marry him. Perhaps it is a good thing I never tried to propose to you.”
I was in no humor for any of Mal’s jesting. I was too distressed by my recent encounter with Prince Florian. When I related the whole incident to Mal, I was infuriated to see his shoulders shake with suppressed mirth.
Disenchanted Page 29
