Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [49]
“Oh, no, Your Highness,” she said with a flirtatious smile.“I’m afraid that my guardian is so very strict, she will not let me go anywhere!”
“She let you come here tonight,” Christian said with a burst of inspiration. “And without a chaperone!” He looked at her in triumph.
“Well, the Seadowns are old friends,” she replied evasively. “So of course I’m permitted to come to La—Marianne’s ball.”
Something about this nagged at Christian’s brain. If she and Marianne were friends, why did Marianne look so upset? And why had none of the Seadowns greeted Ella when she arrived? It all seemed quite irregular.
“I do wish people weren’t giving me such awful looks,” Lady Ella fretted.
“They’re just jealous because you are so beautiful,” Christian assured her.
Something silver and lavender flashed in the corner of his eye. Blinking rapidly, he had the unpleasant reminder of all those green flashes he had been seeing since he arrived in Breton. They had, thank the heavens, stopped a week or two ago, but the silver and lavender flash brought back the strange feeling of being watched.
He turned to see where it had come from, and saw Poppy standing at the doorway of the ballroom. She gave him a brief look of something—pity? Annoyance? It was hard to say. Then she went out with Roger Thwaite on her heels.
Where were they going? Christian stumbled a little, trying to crane his neck to watch. Surely if they were sneaking off for a tryst they wouldn’t have left the ballroom together? He stumbled again, and stepped on one of Lady Ella’s feet. Letting out a faint scream, she collapsed against him.
Christian leaped back in embarrassment, holding the sagging Lady Ella by her elbows. “I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
Several of the other dancers bumped into them, causing confusion and laughter from those watching. Mortified, Christian half-carried Lady Ella from the dance floor to a chair where she could rest.
“Did I break your foot?” Christian hadn’t stepped on the toes of a dance partner since his first ball at the age of twelve, and now he had probably crippled poor Lady Ella! What had he been thinking, letting his attention wander off after Poppy? As though Poppy’s relationship with Roger Thwaite was anything to do with him!
Dragging his attention back to Lady Ella, he knelt by her feet. “May I look?”
She was slumped back in the chair. “You must think I’m such a goose,” she said faintly.
“Not at all.” Feeling very daring, Christian delicately folded back the hem of her pink gown.
“What happened to your feet?” he asked in a hushed voice.
It made him blush even more, but he couldn’t help himself. Lady Ella wasn’t wearing stockings, which was rather embarrassing in and of itself. All along the edge of the shoes her feet were white, and not just the white of pale skin. But white like marble, and equally slick-looking.
“What is wrong with them?”
Lady Ella seemed to come to herself. She gasped and straightened in her chair, shaking down her skirts. Her pale cheeks turned as pink as her gown.
“Oh, Your Highness! Really, I am quite all right! There is no need for you to worry,” she babbled.
“If there is no need for you to worry, Prince Christian, then perhaps you had better go find your next partner,” Lady Margaret said sternly as she glided up to them. She gave Lady Ella a hard look.
“I think I should stay with Lady Ella,” Christian said staunchly as he stood. He smoothed his jacket and smiled at Lady Margaret, but she didn’t return the smile.
“Really, Your Highness,” Lady Margaret said, voice tight. “You don’t want the other young ladies to feel neglected! And all the young men want a dance with Lady Ella. Mustn’t be selfish.” This last comment should have sounded teasing, but coming through gritted teeth it sounded rather menacing instead.
“But His Highness has insisted on filling my dance card,” Lady Ella said, her eyes lowered demurely.
“But if you cannot dance,” Lady Margaret said with that same edge to her voice, “it is hardly fair.”
By now Christian was so uncomfortable he was fighting an urge to flee the ballroom. But