She tried to keep up with Liam and pretended she didn’t feel horribly exposed. She’d never danced in public without the Princess’s mask to hide behind. “Relax, Lainie,” Liam said, grinning at her, and his comical expression made her laugh.
She tried a variation on the steps, and Liam matched her, his smile widening. He was right; it was easy. And fun. No one was watching her perform, no one was judging her dress or her hair, and for the first time in her life she could dance just for herself. She threw back her head and laughed, and Liam laughed with her.
When they finished, both of them out of breath, Liam said, “Not so hard, right?”
“No,” Telaine said, “but—”
“Dance with me, Lainie?” said Ed Decker, emerging from the crowd with his hand outstretched. Startled, Telaine took it, and he drew her back into the dance with no time to say yes.
For an hour, two hours, she was never without a partner. Friends from the tavern and men she barely knew presented themselves one after another, and she learned new dances, and laughed at her mistakes, and danced again.
Finally, her feet sore, she cried mercy and went to draw herself another mug of the delicious dark brew before sitting down at an empty table. Men and women flew past, their bright colors like a moving tapestry, or like oils swirled together by an unseen artist. The empty, lonely feeling had vanished. How fortunate she hadn’t given in to her impulse to leave. She hadn’t had this much fun in years. Or ever.
“Will you dance with me?”
Surprised, Telaine turned to face Garrett, who’d come up quietly behind her. Her heart, which had slowed from the rapid pace of the dance, began beating harder again. She made herself look at him, afraid of what she might see, but met only his usual calm gaze. It threw her into more confusion than if he’d once again had that intimate, questioning look in his eyes.
“The next dance hasn’t started yet,” she pointed out. It was inane, but better than asking Why did you sing to me? She was afraid of what he might say if she did.
“I know,” Garrett said, pulling out a chair to sit next to her. “I thought, seeing as how you were so popular, happen I should ask before someone else swooped down on you.”
The image of a predatory bird winging down and carrying her off made her smile. “I guess that’s true,” she said. “I didn’t know—” She paused. “I didn’t know how many friends I had.”
“More than you know,” he said, and the way he said it made her blush, as if he’d said something far more intimate. “There, that’s the next dance. Do you know it?”
“I don’t,” Telaine said. Then, daring, she stretched out her hand. “Teach me?”
He smiled at that, a familiar smile that made her cheeks go hot. Taking her hand in his callused one, he led her away from the tables and demonstrated. Telaine was conscious for the first time of not wearing gloves, how his hands held hers gently but firmly, not letting her fall when she nearly tripped because she could barely hear his instructions over the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears. “I think we’re ready,” he finally said.
They stepped into an opening made by the other dancers, and now Telaine did stumble, and strong hands kept her from falling. “Steady on,” Garrett said, and guided her until she regained her poise.
He was an excellent dancer, leading her without making her feel dragged through the rapid pace of the dance. When she finally reminded herself don’t look at your feet, your Highness, give your partner your attention, which was what her first dance instructor had told her constantly when she was thirteen, she could look at him without embarrassment. His eyes never left her face, though he didn’t smile, just gazed at her with that direct, calm look she’d thought she was so familiar with. It was as if she’d never seen him before.
The music came to an end, but Garrett didn’t release her. She didn’t want him to, didn’t want to let go of his hands that clasped hers, firm and gentle. She took a step toward him, wishing she could think of something to say that would let this moment go on.
“Lainie! Teach us one of your dances!”
Telaine half-turned, still holding Garrett’s hands, toward Blythe Bradford. “One of my what?”
“A dance from the city! I want my wedding to be on the front edge of fashion!”
Telaine looked at Garrett. Did she dare…? No one but she would know what it meant that they danced twice in a row, but was that kind of declaration what she wanted?
“Will you dance with me again?” she said, all in a rush, and Garrett smiled and nodded. She let go of his hands and ran to where the musicians waited. “Will you play something not very fast, in 3/4 time?”
“Sure,” the bass player said. “Happen it’ll set a new trend.”
“Happen it might,” Telaine said, and ran back to where Garrett stood. He hadn’t moved at all. “Put your hand on my waist—right—and take my hand with your other one. It’s a steady one-two-three beat,” she said in a louder voice. “Just follow me and pretend you know what you’re doing. It’s not hard,” she added with a wink, and Garrett laughed, a rich, warm sound that thrilled through her.
The music started, and Telaine began counting one-two-three, one-two-three, and saw other couples imitating them. “Now,” she said, and handed off the lead to Garrett, who swept her across the clearing as if he’d been doing it his whole life.
Telaine had chosen the dance because it was the simplest one she knew. She hadn’t considered it was also the most intimate. Garrett pulled her closer to him until she could feel his breath on her face; it smelled pleasantly of what he’d been eating, ham and cake and beer, which combined with the fresh scent of his soap made her feel dizzy.
She couldn’t stop looking at his face, at the sweep of his brow and his dark brown eyes and his strong chin. He’s so handsome, she thought, and wondered that she’d never realized it before. He never took his eyes off her, though he didn’t smile, only slid his arm around her waist in a way that made her shiver with delight.
When the dance ended—far too soon; she should have specified a long song—he once again didn’t release her. Telaine stood in the circle of his arm, breathless, waiting for him to speak. Then he let her go, and bowed to her, just a bob of the head. “Miss Bricker,” he said, and walked away without another word.
Telaine stared after him, dumbfounded. What was that?
“Lainie, dance with me,” a man said, and she mumbled something he probably took for assent. She was grateful that this was one of the men who didn’t feel talking was necessary during a dance, because she couldn’t have maintained a conversation after that.
Garrett had sung to her, he’d danced twice with her—granted, he probably didn’t know that by high society’s rules, dancing twice in a row with the same person was a declaration of intent to court, but it was still one more dance than anyone else had got from her—he’d been so close to her, and then he’d just walked away? What was he thinking? Maybe she’d been wrong about his feelings, or maybe he’d changed his mind, but in any case that hollow, empty feeling was back, and she didn’t think dancing, or beer, would do anything to fill it.
She danced, and drank, pretending to enjoy herself, until the crowd dissipated, then she walked home, alone even in the middle of the crowd. Halfway to Aunt Weaver’s house, she remembered the tent of lights and cursed. She could leave it up until tomorrow, but she knew she would only find excuses to delay if she didn’t take it down immediately, and it was a magnificent Device that didn’t deserve to be left out in the cold all night.
Telaine turned around and went back to the clearing, where men were taking down tables and hauling wooden folding chairs to wherever they were stored. Wearily, she began tugging at the strands. She’d set it up so a gentle pull would bring down a string of lights, but there were a lot of strings, and as she wound them back onto their spool, she thought of her narrow, thin mattress with longing for the first time since she’d arrived.
She wound some more, tugged harder to get one stra
nd to come down, wound again. The chair-carrying and table-toting men had vanished, leaving her alone in the clearing with only the light of the moon and the glow of the long strands to guide her hands. It was late, and the night was cold, and she wished she’d left it until the next day after all.
“Happen you could use a hand with that,” Garrett said. She squeaked and dropped the spool, where it rolled to fetch up against his feet. “Sorry. Thought you heard me coming.”
“I was thinking of something else. You could start pulling down those strands while I wind. Thanks.” Her voice sounded as shaky as her hands, which had begun to tremble.
“No problem.” Strands of still-glowing lights fell down in curlicues around her. Telaine wound and wound and wished she hadn’t drunk so much, because maybe then she’d be able to think straight. He’d left, and then he’d come back—did he mean to confuse her? If so, it was working. Her head ached with confusion and beer.
“That’s the last of it,” Garrett said, handing her the loose end. She wrapped the string a few more times around the spool, then tucked away the loose end, banishing a vision of the whole thing unwinding and having to wind it all up again, over and over.
Garrett held out his hand, and she gazed at it dully. He wasn’t asking her to dance, was he? “I’ll carry it for you,” he said after a long moment, and Telaine, coming to herself, handed it to him.
“What happens to it now?” he said as they walked back through the forest, side by side.
“Tomorrow I’ll remove all the motive forces and store everything in Aunt Weaver’s spare room.” He was almost as close as he’d been during their dances, close enough that she could smell the clean scent of his soap again.
“Sounds complicated.”
“Just tedious.” Why had he come back? Was he interested in her, or not?
“I’d help if I could.” The back of his hand brushed hers. Then, tentatively, his finger stroked the back of her hand just before his hand slid around hers, holding her again with that firm but gentle touch.
All the nerves in her hand went off at once, burning a path up her arm and lighting up her brain. It was the oldest gambit of all, one a hundred men had tried on her, and she’d always teasingly but firmly rebuffed them. That was the Princess, she thought, that’s not me, and she squeezed his hand lightly and felt him squeeze back.
They walked like that, hand in hand, through the woods until they reached the outskirts of Longbourne, and Telaine, unable to bear it any longer, said, “I don’t understand.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Wasted a lot of effort tonight if that’s so.”
“I mean—I didn’t even know you were interested in me.” He was a shadowy figure beside her and a warm, electric hand in hers.
“Never knew what to say. And you always had so many other men after you, like moths courting a lantern.”
She blushed. How to explain she’d only flirted with them to protect her alter ego? “They weren’t—it didn’t mean anything. Just having fun. There’s no one else.”
She heard him let out a deep breath. “I didn’t know how to compete with them on their ground. So I decided to compete on mine.”
“It worked.” Not that you had any competition. How blind have I been?
She turned her head to look at him and saw him smile, not a fleeting one, but a wide, brilliant smile that struck her to the heart. She’d never have guessed he had that in him.
They reached Aunt Weaver’s yard, and Telaine held out her hand for the spool, wishing the night didn’t have to end. Who knew if this could even last past sunrise, whatever it was? But Garrett set the spool down on the ground behind him and said, “Just one thing. I’d like to kiss you, Miss Bricker, if you don’t mind.”
It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. She nodded, afraid to speak.
Garrett stepped close and brushed his lips against hers. It was almost too light to feel, tender and sweeter than honey, and she felt as if she’d never truly been kissed before, as if all her flirtations had been nothing more than preparation for this moment. He moved as if to step away from her, and she made a noise of protest, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.
He was only startled for a second, then his arms were around her waist and he pulled her close, kissing her with an intensity that set her body burning with her desire for more. His hand slid up her back and under her hair to caress the soft skin at the nape of her neck, his gentleness a stark contrast to his kiss. She leaned into him and let everything else slip away, the chill of the night, the distant cries of an owl, the weeds growing at the edge of Aunt Weaver’s shed. There was nothing but the two of them holding each other close and kissing as if nothing else in the world mattered.
When they finally separated, Garrett—Ben—brushed a strand of hair away from her face, touching her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, as if her beauty might fly away if he spoke too loudly. “Miss Bricker—”
Telaine laughed. “After that, I think you’re allowed to call me Lainie.”
There was that wide, brilliant smile again. “Lainie,” he said, making her shiver at how his magnificent voice caressed her name. “Lainie, will you walk out with me tomorrow?”
She didn’t know what that meant, but at the moment she would have promised him anything. “Yes.”
“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, and kissed her again, slow and tender, like a promise. Then he walked away, looking back only once before rounding the corner of Aunt Weaver’s house and disappearing from sight.
Telaine let out a slow, deep breath, and bent to pick up the spool. She was going to take the memory of those kisses to bed with her. She touched her lips, and smiled. How beautiful, and how unexpected. She strolled toward the back door. What a tomorrow it would be.
When she opened the door, Aunt Weaver sat at the table in the darkness, waiting for her.
Chapter Fifteen
“What was that,” Aunt Weaver said. It was not a question. She sat at the kitchen table with her arms crossed and her face at its most forbidding.
“That was private,” Telaine said, feeling defensive of her kisses and the young man who’d given them to her.
“Wasn’t talking about the canoodling, though that’s a question too,” Aunt Weaver said. “You told me you’d stop interfering with the people of this town. You forget who you are?”
Her words had the effect of an icy dip in the lake. Telaine dropped the spool on the floor and sagged into a chair. She had completely forgotten who she was. For the last several hours, she’d been nothing more than a girl named Lainie Bricker who’d danced and laughed and started to fall in love for the first time. Yes, falling in love. All things Telaine North Hunter had no business doing in Longbourne.
“I forgot,” she said in a hollow voice. “I forgot everything.”
“You got no business fooling around with that young man when you can’t give him what he wants,” said Aunt Weaver. “Not fair to him. He’s a good man who never done anything to you ’cept have no common sense where women is concerned.”
“I didn’t lead him on.”
“Not sayin’ you did.”
“I was caught off guard. Did you hear him sing to me?”
“I did.”
“I didn’t know how I felt about him. I swear it.”
“Not sayin’ you did.”
Telaine knocked her forehead gently against the table. “How could I have let this happen?”
“Happen you played a part got too real,” said Aunt Weaver. “You never let yourself be too much like the Princess?”
Telaine shook her head. “I hate the Princess,” she said, and stopped. It was a revelation. The Princess was vain, and shallow, and treated people like things, and she’d always known this about her alter ego, but until that moment Telaine hadn’t realized she hated having anything to do with her.
“I like Lainie Bricker,” she went on. “I like the life she has. Maybe—maybe on some level, I want her l
ife. I know if I had to choose a role to play I’d pick Lainie over the Princess in a heartbeat.”
Aunt Weaver shook her head. “You’re not seeing it clear. Lainie isn’t a role. Lainie is you.”
Telaine, caught in the middle of a protest, went silent. Lainie was her. She’d been thinking of her as a separate person, but now she realized that, unlike the Princess, she hadn’t ever had to tell herself how Lainie Bricker would behave. She hadn’t seen the people around her as part of the game, to be manipulated toward her goal, practically since her arrival. She had been…herself, the self that hid behind the Princess’s cosmetics and clothing and laughed at everyone who couldn’t see through the disguise. Lainie Bricker was just another name for Telaine North Hunter.
But it was cold comfort. She might be Lainie Bricker in spirit, but she was still a Princess of Tremontane and an agent of the Crown, neither of which she could reveal to the people she was growing to love. She was lying to them even as she showed them her true self.
“What am I going to do?” she groaned, laying her face on the table again. Her head ached from all the beer, all the revelations.
“Finish the job fast. Start detaching yourself from Longbourne. Remind yourself every day what your real name is.” Aunt Weaver paused for a long moment. “Break with that young man.”
Telaine felt sick. The memory of Ben’s kisses turned sour in her mind. Tears rose in her eyes. “I don’t even know how to begin,” she said, which was a lie. She knew all too well how to break a man’s heart. The Princess had certainly done it often enough.
“Tell him it was the beer. Certain sure you put away enough of it.” Aunt Weaver stood, and Telaine looked up at her. At this angle, her nose was a sharper, straighter line, her expression more imperious—and Telaine knew exactly where she’d seen her before.
She was older, of course, but even so Telaine couldn’t imagine how she hadn’t recognized the woman before. Well, of course she wouldn’t have; why look for someone who was dead? No, it was impossible. She looked again. Not impossible, then, just mindboggling. The surprise drove the tears from her eyes.
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