Page 14 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I do not like any of them, but I will take the watery nose of Lord Boreham any day over one like Alsbee.

“I found her at last!” cries Agatha. “She was late because of that worthless horse of hers. But she is here now!”

The laughter quiets, and Lord Boreham grunts as he gets to his feet. He bows to me. “Lady Vandermore.”

I curtsy. “Lord Boreham.”

“I had to fight hordes of men to get her for you,” says Agatha, patting Boreham’s arm. “Use your time wisely.”

Oh dear.

“Oh, you look lovely Kat!” cries one of my stepsisters from behind us.

We’re turning around when Agatha says, “It’sKatherine,Bridget. Do be proper in public, my darling.”

Bridget grins at me when I curtsy to her. She flaps her fan, making her golden ringlets flutter. She looks me up and down. “I like the pearls. Did they belong to your mother?”

I pretend I don’t stiffen at the mention of Mama. “Mary found them at the market on a discount. It was a peddler trying to pawn off the last of his wares before he died or something. I cannot remember the story exactly.” I shrug one shoulder.

Bridget chortles, glancing between me and Lord Boreham while Agatha sighs and closes her eyes.

“That,” I say, glancing at my stepmother who looks like she is trying to restrain the urge to murder me, “was not very proper of me, now was it, Lord Boreham?”

“I’m afraid it wasn’t,” he agrees.

I smile. “But you don’t mind too much, do you?”

“Um, well—” Lord Boreham starts to say.

Agatha interrupts him before he can say something too damaging. “He finds your liveliness charming, I am sure. I can see the way you look at her, Lord Boreham.”

One look at the mottled color in the gentleman’s cheeks and the way his eyes shift around uneasily, andcharmedis definitely—definitely—the word that comes to mind.

“Where’s Edith?” I ask, glancing around for my other stepsister to end this uncomfortable turn of conversation.

Bridget waves her fan, ruffling the lacy trimmings on the square neckline of her rose-colored bodice. “Oh, in some back room banging on an abandoned harpsichord. I think she feels sorry for any instrument that goes five minutes without being played.”

“Darling,” hisses Agatha under her breath, before smiling at Boreham and I. “The music is starting. Off you two go!”

As Boreham leads me to the dance floor, I cannot fathom for what possible reason Agatha has decided that he is the gentleman I ought to marry. Sheisfrom Aursailles originally, as is Lord Boreham, so perhaps she feels a kinship to him and thinks I ought to feel the same.

I glance at my partner, whose arms are not long enough to put a comfortable distance between us while we dance. It’s just a waltz, yet he is breathing hard not even halfway into the dance. To be fair, my breath isn’t even either—but that’s because I was tearing around fae forests only an hour ago. A girl’s legs can only take so much in one night.

What strikes me as strangest about this arrangement is that, of all the young men at this ball, Boreham seems the least interested in me. He doesn’t even attempt to make conversation, and his eyes are dancing around over the top of my head, very occasionally flitting to mine and then away.

“Did you travel from Commington today for the ball?” I ask just before he sends me into a twirl.

“Yes.”

“And how long are you staying in Ashbourne?”

“A few days.”

“Ah! What is keeping you here? If I remember correctly, you usually return home very quickly.”

His shifty gaze finds mine. He swallows and clears his throat. Then his gaze is back to staring at my forehead. “Well, your mother and I—”

My reply comes out far too vehemently than it should. “She isnotmy mother.”

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