Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [32]
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Her voice was light and caressing, and again very familiar. It taunted him, and he racked his brain for her identity. He had met so many young ladies during his stay in Breton, but surely he would remember one this beautiful, and with such striking coloring. She wasn’t a Casterton, and definitely not a Richmond. A Blythe?
There really had been far too many prospective brides paraded before him. They couldn’t possibly expect him to know all their names. He swallowed his pride as the figures of the dance moved them closer together.
“I’m quite sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name.”
“That’s because we were never formally introduced.” She gave a light tinkle of laughter. “My name is Lady El—Lady Ella.”
“Lady Ella … ?” He waited, but no family name was forthcoming.
“We’ve only seen each other in passing, it would hardly have been memorable.”
“Ah.”
Their conversation continued in this stilted fashion for the rest of the dance. Christian tried a few sallies: where had they met? Did he know her parents? But she replied only with mysterious smiles and increasingly forced laughter, even though none of his attempts were all that funny.
It was with great relief that he bowed to her at the end of the dance. She reached for his hand again, rather boldly, to encourage another dance, but another gentleman came up just then.
It was Roger Thwaite, and he was staring at Lady Ella with an expression of shock. “Eleanora?”
Lady Ella bubbled with laughter, but it sounded even more strained than her previous giggles. “Oh my! It seems that no one can remember my name this evening!” She tapped Roger’s arm with her folded fan, and then Christian’s for good measure.
Christian barely stopped himself from rubbing the spot where her ivory-and-silk fan had struck him, and hoped that she’d been a little gentler with Roger. Really, the girl was quite strange, stranger than Poppy even.
“I don’t know who this Eleanora is,” she babbled. “I’m Lady Ella.”
“Sorry.” Roger drew himself up, embarrassed. “For a moment I mistook you for an old friend.” He gallantly held out his hand. “Please say you will honor me with this next dance, so I may make up for my mistake?”
Lady Ella looked at Christian, who was tongue-tied. Roger clearly wanted to dance with this odd young woman, and Christian wanted to find Poppy, but Ella seemed to have set her cap for the prince.
The awkward moment was saved by a small hand being laid on Christian’s forearm, just where Lady Ella had slapped him with her fan. He looked down to see Marianne smiling up at him.
“I believe you promised me this dance,” she said, smiling.
“Ah, Marianne, sorry to make you wait,” Christian replied with relief, and whirled her away.
The dance had already begun, but it was a reel and anyone could join in. On the other hand, it was so fast that there was no way for them to talk. Christian wanted to ask where Poppy was, and Marianne kept questioning him about Lady Ella. In the end they excused themselves before the dance was finished, and went to one of the refreshment rooms to talk and drink lemonade.
“Where’s Poppy?”
“Watching the jugglers in the gardens,” Marianne said. “I came in to dance, and saw that girl and her gown.” Her cheerful expression darkened. “Mama will be so put out! She specially wanted Poppy and I to have unique dresses, but it looks like someone bribed our dressmaker to copy one of them. Who was she?”
“She said her name was Lady Ella, but she wouldn’t give me a family name. She looked familiar, and told me that we’d met in passing, but I just can’t remember where.”
“Ella?” Marianne’s brow creased. “Ella who?”
“Are you certain you don’t know her?” Christian simply could not put his finger on it, but there was something about Lady Ella that nagged him.
Carrying her glass in one hand and resting the other on Christian’s arm, Marianne steered them both back to the ballroom. She scanned the dancers until she spotted the lavish white and scarlet gown, watching the girl who wore it with narrowed eyes. Then she