Page 2 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
“I think that’s fine,” Ella offered. “I can’t imagine why not.”
“Brilliant. I’m sure he has so many stories to tell.”
“About his time in a library?” Ella asked, her voice catching. She couldn’t imagine Tatiana being entirely thrilled with those sorts of stories, although she could soak in them for hours.
“I’m sure he got up to more than reading a few books now and again,” Tatiana said.
Ella’s eyes snapped open. She peered up at her sister, marvelling at how glorious her smell was. She so often smelled exactly like the flowers that bloomed outside of Frederick’s estate, the ones they’d spent tireless afternoons amongst as girls.
But as Ella peered up at her, Tatiana’s face began to fall. Her smile curved downward; her eyebrows crinkled. She took a tiny step back and blinked at Ella, looking at her as though she’d never seen her before. This was, naturally, quite frightening.
Immediately, Ella smacked her hands across her cheeks, swirling back towards the mirror. She gaped at herself, at the fringe that was now crinkly and crooked across her forehead. She looked every bit a strange, scraggly boy, despite the wild red curls that still ran down her back and shoulders. She looked uneven, a crazed idiot. Her heart thudded, thudded, thudded. What on earth was she going to do?
“Ella, I’m terribly sorry,” Tatiana said, finally whispering it. “Ella, I suppose I wasn’t paying attention…”
“Tatiana…” Ella began, stuttering. “Tatiana, what – how – how could you possibly allow this to happen? Tatiana, my God. I don’t quite know what to say.”
“Ella, really. It wasn’t my intention.”
Ella popped up from the stool, storming towards the window. She felt as though she’d been punched in the face. Outside, one of the stable boys drew a horse around and around a fenced-off circle, training him. The horse cantered up and down, rollicking his head back and forth.
In just a few hours, Ella would see Frederick for the first time in months. All he had known of her was her rather brilliant letters, her ability with words. And now, now! He would see her as a complete disaster, as a product of this wretched hair.
And it was all Tatiana’s fault.
Tatiana hustled to Ella’s side, clearly distraught. “Ella, really. I don’t see why we can’t patch this up.”
“HOW, Tatiana?” Ella asked, her throat feeling parched. She blinked at her sister, aghast. This was a rather strange feeling, being angry with Tatiana. Ordinarily, her heart burst with love for her. “There’s nothing left to fix. It’s just empty. It’s just ratty bits of hair.”
Tatiana turned her hands one over the other, furrowing her eyebrows still more. There was a massive pit between her eyebrows, now: something that might have been used for storage. Ella longed to be alone.
“Ella, really. I can’t imagine a worse thing I did to you just now,” Tatiana murmured, her voice quivering. “I would never in a million years try to do something like this to you on purpose. You know you’re my favourite person on the planet, don’t you? You know I would do anything – anything – for you.”
Her words rollicked against Ella. Her soul felt like a boat stirring in wild waves. She longed to translate the true brevity of the situation: the fact that she wanted to appear the perfect life partner for Frederick, that she wanted to prove to him she wasn’t just brains, that she was beauty, too. But now, the fringe snuck up her forehead like a tree that had been whacked through during a storm.
“Ella, I can’t really describe how wretched I feel, just now…” Tatiana began.
Ella flashed her eyes towards her sister, suddenly awash with a memory. It had been perhaps two years ago, during a Season the girls had spent together. They’d been at a ball at the Braxton estate, although at the time, Frederick had been terribly ill and hadn’t been able to attend (he’d been sent to the sea at the time, a particularly wretched time of Ella’s life).
Tatiana was always the belle of the ball, the woman most sought-after, regardless of title or station. Throughout that Season, Ella had watched as man after man had danced with Tatiana, making her toss her head back with raucous laughter, causing her to grow dizzy with countless dances. Jealousy had stirred in Ella’s gut, but she’d assured herself, over and over again, that the man she truly wanted simply wasn’t available, at the moment: he was ill, cast toward the seaside, probably spending his hours latched to a brilliant book. How she longed to be beside him.
No, courting wasn’t necessarily Ella’s thing. But it was certainly Tatiana’s.
On this particular evening, Tatiana rushed towards Ella midway through the ball, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She twirled around, then swept her lips towards Ella’s ear, whispering, “The Duke of Cornwall just asked to be introduced to me, isn’t that grand?”
But in the midst of this encounter, Ella stepped forward, drawing her shoe across Tatiana’s gown. Ella and Tatiana both heard the mighty tear, the rush of the fabric towards the ground. Tatiana’s face had ghosted immediately, growing terribly, horribly white. Her hands rushed to her back, catching some of the fabric before it toiled to the ground.
“My goodness, Ella, what have you done?” Tatiana had hissed, anger flowing across her face.
Immediately, Ella had felt more wretched than she’d ever felt in her life. She’d never, in a billion years, wanted anything ill to befall her sister. And now, she’d been the cause of destruction to her gown, in the midst of a proper potential romance with the Duke.
Ella had reached out, latched her hand across Tatiana’s wrist, and led her towards the far end of the ballroom, out the hallway, and towards the dressing room in the back. Her heart rabbit-raced in her throat.
“Where are you taking me?” Tatiana had hissed. Between words, Ella recognised that she was crying. “There’s nothing to be done, now.”
But Ella drew the door closed behind them, turned Tatiana around, gazed at the evidence of the assault. She blinked several times, trying to wage an inner war she had with herself. How on earth had she allowed herself to do such a wretched thing?
“You’ll wear my dress tonight,” Ella said. “I’ll take it off just now. Yes, you’re a bit thinner, a bit taller, but it will have to do.”
