Page 56 of Disenchanted
“Well, I would hardly think that—” Rhufawn looked up from the document and realized I was merely giving him a hard time. He eyed me reproachfully. “Why must you always be so difficult, Miss Upton? I am only a poor herald, striving to earn an honest living and—”
He broke off as a magnificent carriage lumbered down the lane. Unlike the others that had swept on by, this one drew to a halt before my house. Rhufawn’s jaw dropped and mine did as well because the equipage looked as though royalty had come to call, or at the very least a grand duke. Moonlight spilled over a team of snowy white horses sporting golden plumes. They were a perfect match for the coach, which was all ivory and gold, even the wheels picked out with gilt trimming. The carriage boasted no less than four running lamps, a bewigged coachman, and a footman in blue livery riding on the back.
The footman scrambled from his perch, but the coach door was already opening. The herald and I watched breathlessly, but there was more of the pirate than prince about the man who appeared. Mal leapt down, not waiting for the footman to lowerthe steps. Clad all in black, he would have blended with the night except for the gleam of the running lamps.
Whistling a jaunty tune, Mal opened the garden gate and sauntered down the path. Relieved as I was to see him, I wanted to clout him upside the head for the anxiety he had caused me. Before I could utter a word of reproach, Mal greeted the herald with a cheerful grin.
“Hallo, Ruffy.”
Rhufawn flushed as red as his hair. The little man stammered something incoherent and slunk away as quickly as his plump legs would carry him.
“You know the herald?” I asked.
“Of course. Who do you think I bribed to get an invitation so I could buy the tickets? The little weasel charged me five galoons.”
“No wonder he looked guilty. So much for all his whining about being just a poor, honest herald,” I said. My indignation veered in Mal’s direction. “Where have you been, Hawkridge? You should have been here hours ago.”
“I know I am sorry, but I had a last-minute disagreement with Delphine about where the hidden pocket on the gown should go. She had stitched it inside the sleeve, but I told her that would never do because what if one of your dancing partners—”
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “What do you mean about Delphine? She is the one who helped you with my gown?”
“Perhaps just a bit.”
“How much of abit?”
“Well, actually she designed and sewed all of it.”
“And you are just telling me this now?”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be happy about it, but truly, Ella you are going to be thrilled with the gown. Delphine is a brilliant seamstress.”
“She is also a witch who despises me! I believe she has trained that evil cat of hers to hiss and spit at me, so who knows what she might have done to that gown? Am I going to break out into boils or explode into flames when I put it on?”
“Of course not. I admit that Delphine does not much care for you, but she adores me, and she knows how important it is for you to acquire that orb for me.” Mal rested his hands on my shoulders and gave me a coaxing smile. “Take a deep breath and relax, Ella. Everything is going to be fine.”
I thrust his hands away, but before I could retort, the footman approached, toting several bandboxes and a large linen garment carrier. The man was so short, I could only make out his tricorne hat and his eyes peering over the top of the bag. When the stack wobbled, I hastily stepped aside, allowing him to enter the vestibule. Mal followed, performing introductions as he helped the little man set down his burden.
“Ella, this is Long Louie. Louie, this is Ella.”
The little man doffed his tricorne, beaming at me from beneath his powdered white wig. He was a plain-featured man, but he had a charming gap-toothed smile.
“Truly a pleasure, Miss Ella.” He bowed to me before turning to Mal. “Shall I have Harry take the carriage around the town square a time or two? It appears to me that Miss Upton might be awhile, and you know how Harry hates to keep his horses standing.”
Mal nodded. “Better give Ella ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes!” I squawked.
“Fifteen then.”
Before I could protest further, Long Louie swept another elaborate bow before he backed out of the door and was gone. Mal turned to me, wearing an expression of deep satisfaction.
“Didn’t I tell you I would send you off to the ball in grand style? Louie makes a most excellent footman.”
“Yes, although he is rather short. Why do you call him Long Louie?”
“I didn’t give him the nickname.” Mal hemmed and hawed a bit before continuing, “It was bestowed upon him by some of his— er— lady admirers. The ‘long’ doesn’t refer to his height but to— um—”
“Stop!” I flung up one hand. “That is much more information than I needed.”
