Page 87 of Disenchanted
“You must believe the same as your sister does,” he said in a voice thickened by hurt. “That I am part ogre, a most rigid, stiff-necked, unfeeling kind of brute.”
“No, of course not! I would never believe that!”
“I hope not. Because I would do anything for you, Ella. Anything within my power.”
He gathered my hand into the warmth of his own, but I could not even bring myself to look him in the eye. If I had felt guilty about deceiving him before, I was now utterly wretched.
“If you ever find yourself in such difficulty again, you must promise to come to me.”
I hung my head and mumbled, “You are very kind, but I could not take advantage of—”
He pressed my hand. “Promise me!”
I forced myself to look up at him and the earnest intensity in his eyes was more than I could bear.
“Very well. I promise.”
“Good.” He rewarded me with a tender smile that I did not deserve.
The only way I could assuage my guilt was by vowing that from now on, I would do my utmost to be Arcady’s most respectable law-abiding subject. No more teasing Mrs. Biddlesworth that I might be an unlicensed witch. No more harassing royal heralds and above all else, no more involvement in Mal’s dangerous schemes.
“Unfortunately, I must leave you now,” Horatio said, although he made no move to release my hand. “I really do need to find Mercato and speak to him.”
“Because you have other Midtown citizens to rescue from the consequences of their follies. You need not have any more worries about me. As soon as I have gathered up my stepmother and my other sister—”
I broke off in dismay. “Netta! I hardly caught sight of her all evening. I have no idea where she is. What a horrible sister I am! I should have been looking out for both girls instead of dancing with those silly princes and—”
“Calm yourself, Ella. Netta is fine.” Horatio squeezed my hand reassuringly. “I chanced to see her myself earlier out walking the gardens. I believe she has been accompanying Sergeant Wharton while he makes his rounds.”
Sergeant Wharton? The name sounded familiar. I recollected that he was the exceedingly tall young sentry that had comforted Netta when we had first arrived. My sister had seemed quite smitten with him, but I hardly thought my shy Netta would dare to seek him out. Exactly what had Mal put in that elixir he had given my sisters?
“You need have no fear for your sister in the company of Ned Wharton,” Horatio said. “He was under my command before he transferred to the palace guard. I found him to be a most estimable and honorable man. But I will go find your sister and fetch her here at once.”
“You have done more than enough for my family already. It is more important for you to seek out Mercato. I am sure I can manage to locate Netta without getting into any more trouble.”
“I hope so.” Horatio arched one brow dubiously. “It is nearly midnight. Finding your sister in the crowd after the fireworks start might prove more difficult.”
“Nearly midnight?” I gasped. “No! It surely cannot be as late as that?”
“I fear that it is.” Horatio gestured toward a clock ticking upon the mantelpiece.
Twenty minutes until twelve, the hour that I had agreed to meet Mal to hand over the stolen orb. Our last words as he had climbed out my bedchamber window echoed through my mind.
Midnight. Do not forget. If you are not there at the rendezvous, I will assume something has gone wrong and come looking for you.
And walk straight into the arms of the palace guard? Don’t be ridiculous, Mal. Just be patient and wait for me. I will be there.
But patience had never been one of Malcolm Hawkridge’s virtues.
“Ella?” Horatio’s voice cut into my panicked thoughts. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh no. I had just forgotten about… the fireworks,” I lied, wishing my face were not so transparent. “I will be sorry that I have to miss them.”
To my relief, Horatio accepted that reason for my consternation. He emitted a rueful sigh. “I confess that when I came here this evening, I had hoped to watch the fireworks with you and perhaps take you to supper afterward. Presumptuous of me, I know. I have no reason to suppose you would—”
“I would have liked that very much,” I said, adding with genuine regret, “We never even had our dance.”
“Perhaps there will be another occasion. I hope you will permit me to call upon you again.”
