Page 48 of Fragile Wicked Things
Edward quickened to leave me, making his way through the crowd, nodding to several acquaintances, never stopping to speak to anyone, but then the dull Mr. Dowd and his equally dull daughter, Sara, stopped him and held him hostage. Edward was a true gentleman, polite in how he spoke to them, and it wasn't long before the father thought of an excuse to leave the two alone. Sara was not pretty or intelligent and had no friends in that society, as far as I could tell. When I think of it, Sara was shunned by our group, and I was equally guilty of the despicable manner in which we treated her. Yet, Edward spoke to her as if enraptured, her face flushing each time he uttered something. I'm certain he complimented her dress and hair, not to make fun or to be mean. Quite the contrary. What he did was something that had always escaped me up to that moment, the act of benevolence—he performed a small act of kindness towards her. Then, he offered her his hand and led her to the dance floor.
At that moment, I noticed a stranger with a handsome face staring at me, and when I caught him in the act, he didn't look away from embarrassment; instead, he smiled. I didn't smile back and turned away, pretending to be flabbergasted by his arrogance, remembering the advice from a friend that a proper lady should not engage in destructive behavior. And what type of bad behavior was he engaging in? Flirtation was genuinely inappropriate unless properly introduced. Yet, I couldn't help myself and glanced over in his general direction, taking in the sights and sounds around him—a young lady in a pink and white striped gown speaking to a girl no older than fourteen, a man with a bushy mustache which kept dipping into his drink, the roar of laughter that came from a group of men. In a very casual manner, I would glance his way. His blonde hair was short and neat, and I hoped to make out the color of his eyes, but I couldn't do so at such a distance. He looked to be of a slight build, shorter than Edward, but then again, most men were.
He came towards me! I looked about myself, wondering where to turn and whom to speak to. I stood up. Sat back down. Up again, then I took one step forward and walked straight into him.
"Excuse me," he said. He spoke in a southern accent that sounded polite despite being forward. "I couldn't help but notice your father left you unattended."
"He's not my father," I blurted out.
"Brother then?" he said. "Or am I about to hear the unfortunate news that he's your husband?"
"Husband!" I laughed. "He is…was… my guardian."
"Well, I noticed you sitting alone, and a pretty girl like you should be on the dance floor. May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?"
"You speak French?"
"Un petit peu," he said, his southern accent slipping in. He held out his hand, and I took it, never once taking my eyes off him. Blue. His eyes were a beautiful light blue. While we danced, I felt his frame, strong yet graceful, his voice soft-spoken yet direct with his words. He spun me around, and I laughed out loud, too loud. When I nearly fell back, he grabbed me, holding me, his hands wound tight around my waist. It was such intimacy with a man who hadn't yet given me his name.
"James Kilbarry, III, of the Carolina Kilbarrys. I'm sure you've heard of us," he said.
"Oh, yes." Which was the truth. I had heard of the Kilbarry name, but they only had daughters if memory served me correctly.
"My cousins," James explained. "Let's not speak more of our families. I'd like to know you, Miss Catherine Adele Cousins."
"How do you know my name?" I asked.
He laughed at my naivety. "You were introduced at the beginning of the evening."
I looked down, embarrassed by my silliness, lost my footing, and fell into his arms. However, he remained focused and led while I followed; dancing with him was effortless.
"Well, this evening has greatly improved. I promised myself from the moment you entered that I would have a dance with you, even if I had to steal one."
"A thief, Mr. Kilbarry, will not do."
"What will you have me be, Miss Cousins? Remain as an admirer from afar, when I hope to be much more. A suitor, perhaps?"
"Perhaps. As you know, Mr. Kilbarry, we need a proper introduction as is customary..."
"Let's defy custom. You blush at the notion of doing something that differs from the norm." James leaned in close, his musky scent filling my nostrils. I was insatiable. I tilted my head, exposing my neck, a move I had read about in a love story. His breath tickled my neck as he spoke.
"Meet me tomorrow evening at eight at the St. Louis Cemetery. Look for Boré."
The dance ended. James bowed and disappeared without an answer, abandoning me in the middle of the dance floor. What a sight I was! A forlorn young girl peering over the heads of the dancers as they paired up for the next dance, spinning around me. I took a step to escape the dance floor but was cut off by a man twirling a woman. I took another step in the opposite direction and was met with more of the same. Suddenly, I became trapped in a swirling sea of white, black, yellow, and purple, unable to find my way to safety or find James. I turned, and there stood Edward, a look of displeasure on his face, his lips taut.
"It's late," he said. We're leaving." His tone was rather severe, and I didn't wish to risk upsetting him further.
With our things gathered, Edward and I waited by the front door for our carriage. Never before that night had we had such long stretches of silence.
"Edward!" a man said as he passed. "I must say, you are aging at an alarmingly slower rate than the rest of us! What is your secret?"
Edward shook the man's outstretched hand. "Malcolm, my secret is quite embarrassing and no different from what the women do." He leaned in and whispered, "A little bit of honey in the bath water."
Malcolm's eyes widened in bewilderment. "That's it? I thought it would be something quite salacious, like selling your soul to a she-devil."
He laughed the way old men his age snigger at their own words, thinking themselves witty, sounding off in a loud chuckle. Malcolm was still laughing when we left him to go home. The ride back was equally awkward, and it became apparent what had caused the anger within Edward. He disapproved of James Kilbarry.
"Of the Carolina Kilbarrys? They have daughters," he said.
