“Following? The woman was stalking me like a huntress after a prized beast. If you hadn’t led her away and then spirited yourself up that orange tree, she might’ve compromised my virtue.”
Leandre snorted with laughter. “Your only virtue is that you suck at card play. And her desperation comes from her upbringing in her country of birth. Farfuckt’s population being predominantly women, they learn young to be bold in hunting down the man they want for a husband.”
“And I complain about my life here. I understand the invitations to the ball went out this morning.”
Leandre nodded. “Desdemona opened theirs after Charles left, and they were all atwitter.”
When Caresse had asked if anyone could attend, Poutina and Niebleht let her know that, with her diminished status in the house and lacking a well-established aristocratic pedigree, she was “unsuitable” to attend. He growled softly in his throat, recalling the hurt Caresse had tried to hide. She hadn’t even asked to go. They’d just wanted to rub her nose in it.
“Is your mystery woman from the Southern Kingdom?”
“In a manner of speaking, but if you asked her, she would tell you no.”
“More mystery. I should’ve known.”
“My mind is set on the bigger question of whether she’ll stay. She’s grown attached to my tangere, and I’m just biding my time to introduce myself to her.”
Surprise widened Sebastien’s eyes. “She hasn’t seen you yet?”
“Subtlety was called for. She was a little…shook up when she encountered me before she brought me back home.”
“Brought you back home?”
“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say that Charles invited her to stay for the time being.”
“So…is she pretty?”
Leandre grinned. “I guess you’ll see soon enough.”
“Horse’s ass.”
“Careful, you might need me to deflect Poutina Farkle’s pursuit next. Caresse has dubbed them Niblet and Poutine. I know what niblets are, but have no idea what poutine is. All I know is Caresse snickers every time she says it.”
“Caresse? If she’s anything like her name, you have me curious. And you said Charles invited her to stay with them? Do you think she might not want to stay?” He’d started off sounding uninterested in a meeting, but Leandre had noticed a change in his attitude, and that was without even having met her. Promising.
“That’s in Caresse’s hands. She misses her friends keenly, and I won’t hold her here if she truly wishes to return. My job is to introduce her to you and make her want to stay.”
“She likes your tangere?”
“Adores me. And it’s given me the chance to get to know her better. She’s even given me a nickname.”
“This I have to hear.”
Leandre told him, and the sound of Sebastien’s laughter faded as he spirited back to Le Maison de Rochambard, not trusting Desdemona and the conniving stepsisters. They bore watching.
He recalled his first moments with her holding him clutched to her bosom with relish. It was obvious from her descriptions of her friends and her home that she loved them. But her attraction to the orchard, and the way she’d kept sniffing his fur, told him that she was also noticing, or perhaps remembering, her tie to his world. He hoped it was enough.
Even though he was the fae, with magical powers, it was Caresse’s spell he was falling under.
Chapter Three
“You naughty widdle smooshkin. If you have any more, you will be sick,” fussed Marigold, Caresse’s jovial boss, as she tossed Doop-Doop another tidbit of the caramel fudge she was cutting into pieces for Desdemona and her daughters. He hopped up a few inches and caught it with a chomp, delight in his twinkling eyes as he scarfed it down. “Madame will be pissy to know that you have been eating her treats.” With a tiny growl of disgust, Marigold bent down to give him another tiny piece. “Serves her right.”
Doop-Doop gave a tiny woof as if agreeing, and Caresse giggled when he appeared to wink at Marigold, who just laughed. “Away with you, little scoundrel.” She turned her attention to Caresse. “Best hurry, ma petite. You don’t want those two put out with you. Here, take this. It will ease their tempers at being kept waiting.”
Caresse took the dish Marigold offered and hung her apron on the hook by the door and left the kitchen.
Niebleht and Poutina’s last lady’s maid had quit after complaining that they were too demanding, and Desdemona hadn’t found a replacement yet, claiming that Caresse could help them that evening. Lucky her.
She’d settled in the last few days, dividing her time between helping out in the kitchen and making inquiries of some of the staff about caves in the area and the possibility of getting a guide. Unfortunately, no one knew of any caves, and their descriptions of the land formations in the area led her to believe that wherever she’d entered this crazy land must be some distance away.
Inquiries to Desdemona about the use of transportation to explore had been met with incredulous laughter and a brush-off. She’d contented herself to wait until Charles returned, certain that she could prevail upon him to help her.
She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to liking the village, and Plaisir D’Or, wherever it was, and she kept descriptions of where she’d come from purposely vague. They’d think she was crazy at best or a witch at worst. Better to fly under the radar.
Doop-Doop trotted along, his tiny feet making leathery padding sounds as he kept up with her until they reached the staircase, when she lifted him up.
At the top of the stairs she made her way to the double doors of Poutina and Niebleht’s adjoining suite and slipped inside.
Niebleht eyed her in the mirror’s reflection as she applied her face powder with a heavy hand, making it fluff everywhere. “Ick! Why do you carry that creature around? It stinks!”
“It does!” Poutina said as she came out of the bathing room clad in her shift and foundation garments.
“I don’t think he stinks,” Caresse murmured as she cuddled him to her while he stared intensely at Niebleht. A second later she screeched when she jabbed herself in the eye with the liquid eyeliner.
Between the two of them, Caresse had her evening’s work cut out for her, but it was better than going upstairs and stewing over how much she missed her friends.
“Seriously,” Niebleht muttered as she rubbed beneath her watering eye, making an even bigger mess. “He smells as though he’s rolled in garbage. Aren’t you worried he’ll make you stink? I would.” She scrunched up her long nose as she eyed him, and he replied with a tiny growl.
Maybe it’s your upper lip, my equine-faced nemesis.
Caresse fought the urge to giggle as the thought raced through her mind almost without her thinking it. That seemed to happen a lot lately.
“He smells clean to me,” Caresse said as she placed him on his feet and went to Niebleht. “Here, let me help. You’re making it worse by rubbing. Maybe you’re coming down with a sinus infection.”
Orrrrr maybe it’s just your upper lip, Niblet Chowder-head.
She smashed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud because Niblet was looking right at her. She should never have given voice to that slight change-up to Niebleht’s odd name. Poutina’s was even worse. Who burdened their kids with such names?
Marigold had told her the girls and Desdemona were members of the famed Farkle family of Farfuckt, another overseas kingdom. So what should she expect from a Farfuktite?
She was bending over to correct the crooked line Niebleht had drawn with the liner when a sound behind her drew her attention.
Caresse glanced at Doop-Doop and caught him staring at her ass before he shifted his gaze to the ceiling in a decidedly nonchalant manner.
“My nose is perfectly fine. But whatever…can you fix this?” Niblet muttered as she pointed at the makeup caked on her face like a Kabuki mask. “I have to look perfect for the ball tonight.”
“And so do I, so you’d be
tter hurry!” Poutina ordered as she flopped down onto the chair in front of her vanity.
Honey, there isn’t time enough in the world.
Caresse cleared her throat to cover a laugh and nodded at Poutina before casting another glance at Doop-Doop, still sitting where she’d left him, gazing at the ceiling, the picture of canine innocence. He glanced at her to see if she was still watching him.
She did her best to deflect any more comments they made about Doop-Doop. The two of them were so wrapped up in themselves they soon forgot his presence as Caresse did her best to repair the damage that Niebleht had done with the makeup.
“I can’t breathe,” Poutina said as she put the back of her hand to her flushed face and flopped onto her bed.
“Your corset is probably laced too tight,” Caresse said as she helped her stand and began loosening the ties. “If your breasts are bent in half like that it’s a good indicator you need to be re-laced properly. Just hold still.”
Poutina jabbed a finger at Niebleht and sniffled. “She did it. She said my dress wouldn’t fit if I wasn’t laced up tight enough. I want an hourglass figure.”
Feeling slightly sympathetic for the buxom young woman, Caresse said, “You have an hourglass figure. That doesn’t mean your laces have to be so tight that you’re cut in half. Doesn’t that feel better?” she asked when she’d finally loosened the garment. “Corsets were meant to accentuate your curves, not make them disappear.”
“But this,” Poutina pouted as she held her hand over her tummy, which had been smashed down into a flap beneath the waist of the corset and had probably been cutting off her circulation, besides feeling horrible.
Caresse pulled her in front of the mirror and helped her adjust all her body parts into the corset in a more comfortable silhouette before lacing her back into the garment. By the time Caresse was done, her fingers were sore and red. “There. It looks more natural now, and it feels better, doesn’t it?”
Poutina stood in front of her mirror and angled from side to side perusing her silhouette. Her pouty frown turned her lips down until her chin puckered, cancelling any improvement in her appearance. “Mmm. It does.”
“And I’ve seen your dress. It will be fine. And you don’t look like you’re about to pass out anymore.”
“Hmm,” Poutina said, a smile returning her lips as she admired herself in the mirror. “I see what you mean.”
“Of course you’d know all about how to hide fat, wouldn’t you, Caresse?” Niebleht said offhandedly as she got up from her vanity, nearly tripping on Doop-Doop but thankfully not seeing the way he silently bared his teeth at her as she turned.
Caresse flared her eyes at him, and he sat with a distinctly frowny look on his adorable doggy face.
Caresse shrugged, refusing to take the bait. “Where I come from, women only wear those contraptions if they feel like it, and mostly for dress-up occasions or costume play. Nope, they tend to just starve themselves to look good.” She added the last part under her breath.
“Hmm,” Niebleht said as she spanned her wasp-thin, corseted waist and smiled at her reflection. “That’s evidently never something you’ve bothered with. But I would imagine there are just tons of men who adored all your…curvature.”
Oh shut up, would you! Haughty horse-faced hose beast.
“Let’s get you dressed, Niblet,” Caresse said, turning so Niblet wouldn’t see her amused expression, and lifted the gown from its hanger. Her inner devil was uninhibited tonight.
“What did you call me?”
“Niebleht? That’s your name, right? Niebleht Farkle of Farfuckt.” She actually said it with a straight face.
Niebleht scowled at her, and Poutina risked a snicker, but Caresse just blinked innocently. The closest she came to losing it was when she glanced at Doop-Doop and caught him rolling on his back with his mouth wide open and his tongue hanging out.
“You’re so touchy, Nibby,” Poutina sniped as she yanked her gown over her head and waited to be buttoned into it.
“Oh shut up, Pooty,” Niebleht needled.
Caresse ignored their bickering for the most part, wishing Elaina and Angel were with her but grateful at least she had her funny, furry friend.
She sighed, reminding herself that this was a distraction from the quiet in her attic room.
The sweet scent of oranges distracted her, but she had no idea where it came from because the windows in the stuffy room were all closed tight. The whole house was kept closed up, even on beautiful days. Wafting in at unexpected times, the scent had been a welcome distraction, reminding her of the orange orchard she’d awakened in. It gave her hope that she’d eventually find the cave and somehow return home.
Movement drew her eye, and she glanced at Doop-Doop, who sat watching her with his sweet, innocent puppy eyes. Oh, how she’d miss him if she succeeded in finding the cave. He tilted his head.
“Girls,” Desdemona intoned from the opened door. “It’s time to go. If we’re late, you might miss your chance to spend time with Prince Sebastien.”
Both young women cooed in a sickening fashion, and Doop-Doop sneezed.
“Ick!” Niblet said, pulling her skirts back as if afraid she might get doggy snot on her gown. “Make sure he isn’t left in my room when you leave.”
With a final frown in the mirror, Poutina said, “Too bad you have to stay here, Caresse.”
“Oh, well…I could probably find something to wear among the gowns I found in the attic.”
“Those old rags? They belonged to Charles’s first wife, and I’m sure none of them would be suitable. But I meant too bad you couldn’t come to help me and Nibby if we need a touch-up or something. Surely you didn’t think I was inviting you to the ball!”
“Surely not,” Desdemona muttered. “How ridiculous. Make sure to tidy this mess, Caresse.”
With that, all three of them were gone, without a thank-you, a good-bye, or a kiss-my-ass. She took several minutes straightening the disaster area they’d created at the vanities and in their closets.
Lifting Doop-Doop close, she stroked his head as she left the suite and took the servants’ stairs to the top floor. “It’s so quiet up here, but at least I don’t have to fend off their back-handed remarks or listen to them complain about you. You’re not stinky, by the way. I like the way you smell.”
He made a small sound and pressed his head against her chin. After lighting the sconces, she opened the windows, welcoming the gust of fresh air and the fragrance of flowers and citrus it carried into her spartan accommodations. She stood there, looking out at the palace of Plaisir D’Or, where the ball would soon be starting.
Torchlight flickered at intervals on the neatly maintained road and along the walls of the palace. The stained-glass windows decorating the palace glowed from within, giving it a jewel-like twinkle of color to contrast with the white stone walls.
How her friends would enjoy a view like this. Extroverted Elaina would be preparing to crash the party, and levelheaded Angel would be talking sense to her. A knot formed in her throat, and her cheeks grew hot.
Angel and Elaina had been with her through thick and thin since they were little. Her adoptive parents were friends with their families, and Caresse had developed her love for camping along with the girls on family trips to Mt. Rainier National Park.
She’d always been drawn to the area but hadn’t been back in recent years because her boyfriend hadn’t been the outdoorsy type. He’d needed so much of her time that she’d allowed her relationship to alienate her from almost everything she enjoyed.
He hadn’t succeeded in running Angel and Elaina off or in convincing her to move in with him. He’d wanted every bit of her attention, but he wasn’t willing to propose. He’d wanted her to give up the last of her independence—and privacy—and she’d balked at it.
Then, like Angel, she’d experienced her own broken heart when he’d left her for one of his coworkers, claiming she “understood” his needs better.
It had been a painful and lonely time, but her friends had helped to make it bearable. After Angel’s relationship had gone sour in an ugly and public way, Caresse’s ex had called her, wondering if maybe they’d made a mistake and wondering if they could “rekindle the old flame.”
After laughing at him and telling him she’d never be that desperate, she’d hung up on him and called the girls and suggested a camping trip. Elaina had told her she was no one’s “booty call” and “once a cheater always a cheater,” and Angel had agreed it was time to “get the hell out of Dodge!”
Caresse had cried and laughed and wanted to hug her friends through the phone.
And now, there she sat, the loneliness closing in around her like a shroud, and she had absolutely no idea how to get back to them.
Caresse’s furry confidante pulled back and looked up at her, cocking his little head at an angle the way he always did when he observed her, and then he surprised her when he licked the tear that slid down her cheek.
“It’s okay, sugar. I’m just lonely for my friends.” She cleared her throat as she watched the carriage carrying Desdemona, Niebleht, and Poutina exit through the mansion gates and merge with the others crowding the road leading to the palace.
She set Doop-Doop down so she could brush out her hair and undo her laces. “I did my best to help them tonight. Niblet and Poutine didn’t need to be so cruel, reminding me I wasn’t good enough to attend their stupid ball…with their stupid prince…in the stupid palace.”
Removing the outer dress, so she was clad only in the thin chemise and her undergarments, she hung up her clothing while she imagined what the inside of the palace looked like. Pale ivory and gold-veined marble floors and the rockwork inside probably glowed gold in the light of all the many chandeliers. Banners and tapestries featuring the royal family crest would hang on the walls in colors like jewels.
The cool breeze refreshed her as she stood at the window brushing her long blonde hair. She would’ve put it up in a simple but elegant twist with the pins she’d found along with the dresses, which had been carefully stored in a trunk in her room. They might’ve been a little dated but hardly unsuitable as Poutina had said.
Midnight of the Fae Page 4
