Page 38 of A Waltz with Lord Death
“Would you like me to escort you back to the castle?” he urged.
“Go,” Betha said softly. “It won’t be long before he recovers. He’s in capable hands.”
She bit her lip and stood, gazing down at the man she loved.
Her heart gave a start as she looked into his deep gray eyes. She hadn’t realized it before, but she loved him. She loved Lord Death. And she swore to herself she would accept his proposal and become Lady Life, but only after she made good on one last promise.
Straightening, she picked up her skirts and followed the stable hand out into the cold, bitter air, but not before glancing back at Death one last time.
He will be all right, she told herself.After tonight, everything will change.
Chapter 16
Meira breathed in sharply when her maidservant finally turned her around to face the mirror. White velvet draped from her long sleeves to the hem of her skirts. The lacy gold trim was exquisite. White beads dripped in waves on her bodice and lined the overskirt. The triangle of fabric peeking out from the overskirt at the front had a beautiful, intricate gold and white design in the fabric.
The gown itself must have cost a fortune. It had been a gift from the king himself for her work in the castle.
Her favorite part of the ensemble was her hair. She wore white beads to match her dress in her coiffed hairstyle, her curls dripping down her back. What would Death think if he saw her?
Worry gnawed at her stomach, churning inside out for the dozenth time. She should not have left the stables. How was he? Could he stand yet? Had his power returned to him? Betha hadn’t seemed worried about his recovery, but now she beat herself up over leaving him.
She turned toward the door with the intent to check on him when it opened, and Elise burst inside.
“There you are!” she cried, looking exquisite in her own attire. She wore a deep red dress and gold accents, with a revealing neckline and a tight corset. If the intent was not to seduce her own husband, then Meira didn’t know what it was.
“Is something the matter?”
Elise shook her head. Then nodded. “Gerard did not come to escort me to the ball. I…” Her chin trembled. “I cannot go in alone.”
“Be happy,” she said with a smile. “For you will be the most beautiful woman at the ball. Your husband is sure to come to his senses.”
With a nod, Elise threaded her arm through hers. “I am so nervous.”
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair with her free hand and stepped out into the hall with her friend on her arm. Thinking of Death and her decision tonight, she said, “So am I.”
Music wafted through the castle long before they reached the ballroom. Lords and ladies milled about. The aroma of sweets and pastries pulsed in the hallways like a beckoning finger. And when the two of them stepped foot in the ballroom, all the breath fled from her lungs.
Beautiful, rich colors filled the spacious room, from twirling skirts to flirting fans to sparkling jewels. Wards circled everyone’s necks, from large wooden structures to small silver ornaments. She wore one around her own neck for pretense, which rested just below the strand of pearls.
Glancing to the front of the room, she noticed the king wore several wards. He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the lord he was speaking with.
“There he is, that scoundrel,” Elise muttered. Her husband stood next to another woman with brunette hair, leaning far closer than what was appropriate in not only a public setting, but in front of his wife as well.
“May I steal you for a dance, Lady Farrington?” Lord Rupert asked as he held his hand out to Elise. The sympathy in his smile spoke volumes of his knowledge of her husband’s affair.
“You may.”
While her friend was whisked across the ballroom, she stood on her toes to look over the sea of ball-goers in a vain hope to find a head of dark brown hair and gray eyes. Death was nowhere to be seen, which only managed to amplify her worry. Was he still in the stables? Was he hurt? Had he recovered?
Just as she began to move toward the exit, a deep voice sounded behind her.
“Leaving the party so soon?”
She spun around, her heart beating wildly as she came face to face with the man she had yearned to see. Death wore a frilly little hat with black trousers and tunic to match. His sleeves puffed out from his elbow to his wrist, revealing the gold material beneath.
“What are you wearing?” she giggled, brazen enough to touch the ridiculous sleeves she was not accustomed to seeing him in.
“Exactly what he’s wearing.” He nodded his head to another gentleman in the exact same attire, who was slumped in an armchair with folded arms and a bowed head. Likely sleeping. “I copied his style. What do you think? Does it suit me?”
