Page 58 of Disenchanted
As I donned the final layer of petticoat, Mal complained, “Aren’t you ready yet?”
“No, as I have often explained to you, it takes women longer to dress because we wear more.”
“A fact I have always lamented,” Mal murmured wickedly.
At last, I slipped into the gown, and it was like plunging into a waterfall of silk. The cool fabric whispered against my skin as I worked my arms into the sleeves.
“You can turn around now—” I began, but then realized at some point Mal had already done so. He leaned against the wall, studying me through the thickness of his lashes, the hint of a smile on his face.
I refused to let him make me blush, merely shaking my head at him in an admonishing fashion. Turning my back to him, I ordered him to close the gown. He proceeded to do so with alacrity, demonstrating that he was far too familiar with the fastenings of a woman’s garment.
As he deftly worked the tiny hooks and eyes, I had to sweep my hair out of the way. When he reached the top rows of fastenings, his fingers brushed against the skin of my upper back. I experienced an odd flutter in the pit of my stomach, and I heard Mal catch his breath.
Desperately seeking to ignore both of our reactions, I fanned out my skirts, admiring the way the color shifted between light and shadow, like the sun shimmering on a flowing stream. “The gown is truly enchanting,” I said. “But I thought the idea was for me not to attract any attention.”
Mal chuckled, although his fingers were no longer quite as steady as he fumbled with the last hook. “The only way you would ever escape notice is if that lovely face of yours was masked. Your best disguise tonight is to appear as a carefree beauty come to the ball to steal hearts, not a magic orb. Now let’s have a good look at you.”
I turned around slowly. Mal stepped back to study me. He was silent for so long, I grew nervous. I thought I was good at reading his expressions, but never had I seen such a stillness come into his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked. “Is something wrong? Does the gown not fit right?”
“See for yourself.”
He took my arm and positioned me in front of the full-length cheval glass next to my wardrobe. I froze, for one stunned moment thinking my mother’s spirit had risen before me. I reached out to her. When my image in the mirror reached back to me, I noticed the subtle differences. My mother’s eyes had been green. The stranger in the looking glass had deep blue eyes, the same color as my father’s. Her features were not as gentle as Mama’s, the mirror woman’s cheekbones more sharply defined, but the cascade of golden hair was the same.
I stared, pressing my hand to my lips and my image did likewise, her eyes soft with wonder. Could that lovely, fey creature trapped within the glass truly be me? I have never set great value upon my appearance, but I stammered, “I don’t wish to sound vain, but I suppose I am rather… rather…”
“Beautiful,” Mal said hoarsely as he stepped alongside me. He slipped his arm about my waist. “I would give my life to be going with you tonight.”
“I daresay you would enjoy all the intrigue of stealing the orb far more than I will.”
“I wasn’t thinking of the orb.” His eyes met mine in the glass. “I wish I could be the man at your side, the one who will lead you into your first dance.”
“Oh.” I lowered my gaze, feeling strangely guilty. I could not bring myself to tell Mal that man was going to be Horatio Crushington. Instead, I forced a laugh. “You would hate all the flummery that goes along with a royal ball, the etiquette, the idle chatter, the bowing, and curtsying. After five minutes, you would be as bored with it as Waldo the Wharf Rat’s daughters.”
“I fear you are right.” His hand fell away from my waist. “But sometimes I wish I was a very different kind of man.”
“What kind of man would that be?”
His expression waxed pensive, almost sad. “Someone more noble and heroic, the kind of man who—”
“Who what?”
“I don’t know. I am talking utter nonsense.” He tried to smile but could not quite manage it.
I regarded him with surprise. This sort of brooding introspection was so unlike Mal. Usually the man brimmed over with bravado and self-confidence.
“I happen to like you just fine the way you are,” I said. “In fact, I quite adore you. Especially because of this.”
I held up my hair on one side to reveal the emerald glittering in my ear. “Recovering my mother’s emeralds was the sweetest, most wonderful thing you have ever done for me. I was so surprised when your young messenger turned up at my gate. I thought he was a beggar at first.
“I am afraid I insulted him. He wasted little time informing me that he was a ‘man of means with reg’lar employment.’” I chuckled as I imitated the boy’s indignant voice.
“That was Tom Piper. Quite an enterprising young rogue. It wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up as the wealthiest man in the kingdom one day.”
I closed the distance between Mal and me, draping my arms around his neck. “I should scold you for lavishing so much money on me, but I am far too grateful. I hardly know how to thank you.”
I expected Mal to come back with some sort of wicked suggestion, perhaps even try to steal a kiss. He patted my back awkwardly and eased me away from him.
