Page 75 of Disenchanted
My spirits lifted only to plummet when I realized he was leading a girl forward to dance. I could not blame him for that. After I had proved to be so unreliable, he had every right to dance with someone else. I still would have been jealous except for the partner Horatio had chosen.
I thought I recognized her. The girl was from Midtown, one of the butcher’s daughters, I believed. Her mustard-colored gown was truly hideous and only accented the flaws of her plump, pear-shaped figure. Carrot-red hair framed a youthful face suffering from an attack of blotchy red spots.
I had little doubt that this poor girl would have spent the entire ball huddled in a chair in the corner, wistfully watching everyone else dance and feeling miserable. Certainly not one of these so-called charming princes would have ever bothered to ask for her hand.
I knew Horatio well enough to guess how carefully he would have framed his invitation. He would not have made her feel as though he was merely being kind or pitied her. No, he wouldhave been solemnly gallant, convincing her that she was favoring him.
Small wonder that shy girl was gazing up at Horatio so adoringly. I tried to steer Prince Kendrick toward the same set. If I could not dance with Horatio myself, as we circled through the movements and changed partners, I might at least be able to touch his hand. Maybe I could even find a moment to whisper how sorry I was, try to explain away that foolish kiss.
But Horatio’s set already had eight couples. The other sets were filling rapidly as well. Prince Kendrick and I did not find an opening until we were completely on the opposite side of the ballroom.
The prince and I faced each other as the orchestra struck up the music. He bowed and I curtsied. The promenade was a slow and formal dance. It consisted of a lot of stepping forward, stepping back, holding hands, circling, switching partners with the couple next to you, more circling, returning to your own partner, repeating the same steps all over again as you moved farther down the line. A simple dance, it did not require much by way of concentration, but it was interminably long, lasting nearly twenty minutes.
Although Prince Kendrick seemed to be an amiable young man, he was not a scintillating conversationalist, most of his remarks either dealing with the fine spring weather or how splendid the ball was. He continued to beam at me throughout the dance. When someone smiles at you that much, you feel peculiarly obliged to smile back. We were not even halfway through the dance before my face muscles began to ache and I could feel the blister on my left heel getting worse.
I could not run away from another prince, but I was seriously considering faking a sprained ankle when it occurred to me that I might be wasting an opportunity to learn more about the royal family. Kendrick was far too young to know anything about theking and his dealings with my parents, but he could provide me with a different perspective regarding his brothers.
The next time the movement of the dance drew us closer, I said, “I had the honor of dancing the waltz with your oldest brother.”
“Oh yes, Florian. He’s a very good dancer.” Kendrick grinned. “All the girls are quite mad for him.”
I sashayed forward and back. “And I had the privilege of dancing with your brother Ryland as well.”
“Oh yes, indeed! Good old Ry. He is a very fine fellow.”
As we joined hands and circled, I leaned closer and said in lowered voice, “I was so shocked to learn about his injury.”
“Injury?” Kendrick started but managed to keep his smile fixed in place. “What injury?”
“His missing hand?”
“Oh, that.” Kendrick’s smile finally dimmed. “I am surprised Ry told you about that. He does not like anyone outside the family to know of it.”
“I discovered it by accident, but I assure you the prince’s secret is safe with me. I was just so saddened to learn of his loss.”
“Yes, yes, indeed. Terrible beasts, dragons. It was all so very sad.” Kendrick gulped, but then rallied, recovering his beaming smile. “But that was a long time ago. Ry has completely recovered. He’s fine now.”
We were separated again as we switched partners. As I went through the motions with a bored-looking baronet, I gave up the idea of getting more information from Kendrick. There was no breaking through his barrier of impenetrable cheerfulness.
When the dance brought us back together, I was therefore astonished to see his face completely clouded over. Tears welled in his eyes as he confessed to me, “My brother is not fine. Ry will never be fine again. Losing his hand devastated him. Y-you see, he loved music. He used to p-play the lute so b-b-beautifully.”
To my horror, two fat droplets escaped and rolled down the prince’s cheeks. He moaned, “Oh, this is far too painful. I cannot talk about this.”
“No, no, of course not,” I said hastily, aware that we were drawing odd looks from the other couples in our set. “Please. Please don’t cry. We will change the subject and speak of something less mournful.”
He gave a heroic nod, but once he started to cry, Prince Kendrick seemed unable to stop. I made soothing noises, tried to jest with him, but to no avail. Although he attempted to smile, his tears continued to flow. As usual, I had forgotten to bring a handkerchief and he did not have one either. A few of the other dancers cast accusing glares at me, but most of them just averted their gaze in embarrassment, trying to ignore the weeping prince. That was all but impossible as we danced down the line. Kendrick sniffed loudly to keep snot from dripping onto the collar of his uniform. He still managed to curve his lips upward. It disconcerted me; this ability to smile and cry at the same time. Besides a penchant for deception, I wondered if there was also a strain of madness in the Helavalerian family.
When the dance finally ended, Kendrick wiped his nose on the back of his glove. His eyes were raw and red, but he appeared to have finally regained control of himself as he bowed over my hand.
“Thank you for the dance, miss. It has been a great p-pleasure.” His voice broke with a sob, and he started crying all over again. He was still weeping as he staggered away from me. I became aware of the other dancers giving me a wide berth as though I had contracted the plague. The staring, the pointing and the whispers started up all over again.
So much for my reputation. By this time tomorrow, I would be known throughout the kingdom as the woman who had run away from one prince and reduced another one to tears.
I consoled myself with the thought that at least I would not be pestered by more offers to dance, but I soon discovered I was mistaken. Perhaps for some men, infamy only adds to a woman’s allure. I was still pursued by a few intrepid souls. Two noblemen, Lord Ludlow and Sir Eustace, were especially persistent.
I finally discouraged them by declaring loudly that I had twisted my ankle and needed to rest. Because of my sore heel, I was able to produce a very creditable limp. My two admirers withdrew and left me in peace, or at least as much peace as I was likely to find at this infernal ball.
I did a quick scan of the room and was dismayed to discover that I had once more lost sight of Horatio. More alarming still, Amy had also disappeared, and it occurred to me that I had not seen Netta or my stepmother since the presentation of the princes. Adding to these worries was the fact that I was no nearer to figuring out a way to get past those guards to steal the orb.
