Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [48]
“Her maid skills seem to be improving,” Marianne said, fingering the pink rosettes on the bodice of her new gown. “Maybe she’s finally become resigned to being in service.”
“I really don’t think that’s it,” Poppy said, but declined to discuss it any further.
Christian would return to the Danelaw the week after the royal masked ball, and Lady Ella clearly had set her cap for the prince, which meant that something was likely to happen at that masked ball or soon after. But they had no idea what, and if Ellen wouldn’t talk to them, there was nothing they could do to prevent it.
Nothing but wait, and watch, and hope the foolish girl came to her senses and confided the secret of her enchantment to them, and soon.
“Who does she think she is?” Marianne was livid with rage. The flush made her look even prettier, but Poppy doubted that her friend would appreciate a compliment right now.
Lady Ella had indeed come to Marianne’s birthday ball, arriving late and in grand style in a large golden carriage pulled by a dozen gleaming white horses and attended by half a dozen handsome but mute servants. She had swept into the ballroom and gone immediately to Christian, who had dropped Marianne’s hand like a hot brick and instead squired Lady Ella during the opening dance.
The entire room, the entire manor, was silent with shock through most of that first dance. Then the babbling had broken out: the questions, the speculation, the compliments and insults. The gentlemen were even more enamored of Ellen than before, Poppy noticed, while the ladies were more vicious. But Poppy couldn’t blame them: not only was she stealing the limelight from Marianne, but she was dressed, purposely, to outshine her.
Rather than copying Poppy’s gown, this time Ella had copied Marianne’s.
“I don’t care how fond you are of her,” Poppy said to Roger as they stood to one side of the dance floor. Marianne whirled past them, partnered by her father now, her face red and eyes shining with unshed tears. “I might have to kill her.”
Lady Ella and Christian were leading the figures of the dance, a whirl of black suit and rose-satin gown. As Ella’s skirts swirled, tantalizing glimpses of her gleaming shoes were revealed. They were rose and gold, and once more looked like nothing so much as exquisitely blown glass. Her necklace and tiara were more opulent versions of Lady Seadown’s, worn by Marianne with such pride.
“This is not like her,” Roger said uneasily.
“No, this is not like your memory of her,” Poppy corrected him.
“I still can’t believe she would do something so deliberately cruel,” Roger said, shaking his head.
“People change,” Poppy said under her breath. “Let’s go have a look at her carriage. As soon as this dance ends, I want you to ask her to dance. Insist, if you must. And try to get some answers.”
Swallowing, Roger nodded and followed Poppy out into the night air to look at the carriage of gold with its silent coachmen and its even more eerily silent horses. As the cold air cooled Poppy’s hot cheeks, she tried to tell herself she was only upset on Marianne’s behalf, and not because Christian was making such a fool of himself.
Dizzy
Christian danced across the Seadowns’ ballroom with Lady Ella in his arms. Everyone was watching them, and he knew precisely why: Lady Ella was the most stunning young woman in all of Castleraugh—no, in all of Breton!
It was a pity that Marianne Seadown had tried to copy Lady Ella’s gown, but really, she couldn’t hope to compete. She looked quite sweet in her pink gown, but Lady Ella’s was so clearly of a richer fabric, the gold threads flashing boldly, that poor Marianne just looked washed out.
The only thing that dampened his enjoyment was that Lady Ella was being just as coy this evening as she had been at the royal gala. She would not tell him her family name or where she lived, and she wouldn’t make any plans to meet with him outside of the ball.
“Won’t you at least meet me in the park for a ride? Or if you do not ride, we could walk,” he wheedled.