Page 77 of Disenchanted
The tailor’s son swept me a deep bow, trying to put some swagger into it. “Miss Ella Upton, may I have the great honor of leading you into the next dance?”
“No, you may not.”
His swagger vanished in an instant. He looked so deflated that I hastened to add, “I am sorry. I am finished with dancing this evening, but I am sure there are many other ladies here eager to stand up with you.”
“No, there are not. No one wants to dance with me.”
He looked almost ready to cry. I sighed, unable to handle the prospect of reducing another man to tears.
“Oh, very well,” I said. Realizing this was not the most gracious acceptance, I added, “I would be honored to dance with you, Mr. Bafton.”
Fortescue’s mouth tipped upward in a broad smile. I thought Em might have tried to raise some objection to me dancing with the tailor’s son, but she was so enraptured with Lord Redmond’s attentions, she hardly seemed to notice Fortescue leading me away.
I grimaced when I realized the next dance was to be another waltz. Fortescue took me woodenly in his arms. He had no ability to keep time with the music and we did far more swaying than twirling.
As we danced past that tantalizing arch, I noticed that the king was no longer ensconced upon his throne. But the two formidable guards had not shifted an inch from their positions. One of them smothered a yawn, both men looking mightily bored with their sentry duty. Nonetheless, they remained at their posts.
There was no way I would ever be able to retrieve that orb for Mal. He was going to be dreadfully disappointed, but I knew he would not reproach me for my failure. Delphine, on the other hand, would likely enact some horrible retribution, either cursing me with boils or turning me into a slug worm.
I felt too despondent to care. I moved halfheartedly through the steps of the waltz, but it did not matter because Fortescue was not dancing with much enthusiasm either. I doubted anyone could have found a more miserable couple in the entire ballroom than the pair of us.
We danced in silence until I finally ventured, “So you are not enjoying the ball?”
“Not at all,” he replied. “It has turned out nothing like I expected.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
He took my wry comment as an invitation to air his complaints. “All of these grand ladies from the Heights are so conceited and arrogant. They sneered at me when I approached them to dance. Some of them even behaved as though my mere asking was an insult.”
“Pay no heed to any of those affected snobs,” I began but was cut off when another couple bumped into us.
We were sadly in the way of the more graceful couples. I managed to take the lead and guide Fortescue to the fringes of the ballroom before I continued, “I am sure there are plenty of girls here from Midtown who would be flattered by your attentions.”
“Usually they would be, but not tonight. They are all too busy chasing after lords and knights and princes to have any time for me. But do you know what, Miss Ella? I don’t even care,” Fortescue declared stoutly. “Because I realized something important. There is only one girl in the world that I will ever love and that is your sister Amy.
“Oh, I know what you must be thinking,” he rushed on before I could reply. “That I am not good enough for that divine creature and you would be right. After all, I am a bit of an ass.”
I winced when Fortescue trod on my toe. Although I entirely agreed with him, I tried to demur. “Mr. Bafton, I am sure that—”
“No, you need not attempt to be kind. I am not an intelligent man. I always blurt out the first thought that comes into my head and it is always something foolish. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it, including Amy, but this is the wonderful thing about your sister. Amy has never minded me being an ass. She liked me anyway. I believe I was her favorite beau until this cursed ball.”
Fortescue emitted a heavy sigh as he twirled me in a circle that nearly caused us both to stumble. “Now all these handsome, clever wealthy men have clapped eyes on my lovely Amy and realized how amazing she is. Even several of the princes are smitten with her. No doubt she will end up a princess, and I have lost my chance with her forever.”
I refrained from telling him that there never had been any chance of him wedding Amy. My stepmother would not have allowed it, not unless our family had become completely destitute and faced with the prospect of moving to Misty Bottoms. I had never been keen on the notion of Fortescue Bafton as a brother-in-law either.
But the poor man looked so downcast, I could not help feeling sorry for him. I was struggling to come up with some sort of consoling remark when Prince Florian waltzed past us withthe youngest Miss Hanson clasped in his arms. I could tell the prince was subjecting her to the full barrage of his charms just as he had done with me, only Ivy was lapping it up. She did not appear under the prince’s spell enough to remain unaware of the envy of other ladies who had been obliged to settle for less noble partners. She directed a particularly smug smile at her older sister, Myrtle, who was without a partner and watching wistfully from the sidelines.
As Fortescue and I shuffled past Myrtle, I saw her face flush bright red. I could have sworn she gnashed her teeth with jealousy and the most calculating look transformed her face. Myrtle pressed one hand dramatically to her brow and it was as if I could read her mind. She had gained the prince’s attention once before by swooning. Why not try it again?
I recalled that the herald had not reached the Hanson household before they set out for the ball. Myrtle could not be aware of the king’s new edict against swooning in the presence of royalty. I tried to call out a warning, but Fortescue and I danced out of range of her hearing.
Caught up in his own misery, Fortescue was oblivious to his surroundings. He almost tripped over me when I came to an abrupt halt. I pulled away from him, my intent being to stop Myrtle, but I was already too late.
Myrtle staggered out onto the dance floor, directly in front of Prince Florian. She gave a pitiful moan and sank down into a graceful swoon. Unable to check his steps, the prince tripped over the recumbent girl and fell, taking the startled Ivy with him. Several other couples followed suit and tumbled into the flurry of tangled petticoats and flailing legs. I managed to avoid the collision by shoving Fortescue out of the way.
The music came to an abrupt halt. The dancers disentangled themselves and regained their footing. Some of them laughed, amused by the incident, while others cursed, rubbing sore kneesand elbows. Florian was one of the last to rise. His queue had come undone, his long blond hair tumbling about his face and there was a boot print on the sleeve of his pristine white uniform.
Despite all the chaos she had caused, Myrtle maintained the pretense of her swoon, much to my amazement (although I did notice her furtively adjusting her body to a more comfortable angle on the floor). If she expected the prince to sweep her up in his arms as he had done that day in the lane, the girl was to be disappointed.
